Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Beep. Beep.

Vox wasn’t quite sure why he kept an alarm clock anymore. Other than to drive home how much he hated waking up every fucking morning. A metallic clawed hand slapped against the device to silence it,while the sleeping mountainous body of his partner slept on. The sound of his sleeping breaths was soft for such a wrathful man. When he slept, Valentino almost looked even gentle. The morning came too soon, and the nights were too short. The indicator for his battery indicated 84%. Enough to last the day. But he wasn’t at 100. The cable which acted as his lifeblood retracted with a zipping noise.

At the edge of the bed, a long standing mirror reflected his bare body. A gift from Valentino; for the same illicit reasons that came to one's mind. With it, a whole new wave of dysphoria of the unnatural inhuman body he had. A testament to how he had forsaken his flesh and therefore would never possess it again even as he haunted the afterlife. Something he learned to ignore, along with everything else. Vox dressed, went to work, followed the curated schedule for the day on the Vee’s ever-marching approach to take over all of hell. Each day his metallic hands were closing around the pentagram. A regency would give way to an oligarchy. No longer would an impotent and cowering king affect the lives of all those he failed. They’d belong to Vox! And then, at last. People would have to recognize him!

Wherever his old mother’s old sack of bones rotted in hell, he hoped she was watching. Even now the old tales she spoke always upstaging him, be it in tragedy or victory in the face of adversity. He could not even begin to reach the lofty heights of his father or his perfect brother.  Yet, they too would unequivocally be under his foot! Everyone would! But it was becoming a rat race without end.

It used to be fun taking over hell. There used to be chaos, excitement, danger, and far more to his life than sex and violence. These days it felt more like a vignette of sleeping, eating, putting on a face for the camera, entertaining the moth. Some nights he would disappear to be under some new whore. Vox didn't even miss him anymore.

He’d be back. Valentino was never gone long and the absence long stopped to bother Vox. What did bother him was what he might be saying in his absence. Sure most on the surface would praise and love the Vee’s. Vox’s artificial face is a homemade icon recognized by everyone who has lived in Pentagram City for longer than a week. But the fulfillment… was gone.

Morning would pass and by the time Vox had finished the never ending train of work that filled his schedule, he still couldn’t relax. It was only with a glass of brandy in his hand, staring out the window pane on the top of his tower that brought him any peace. Lost in some sepia colored memory or another, or a vision of the future when he’d want no longer.

If that ever happened.

Oftentimes the memory of the poorly insulated apartments he shivered in would surface. The scraps of food he pulled out of the garbage can to stave off hunger, and the humiliation he faced when he was a nobody were a reminder of how far he’d come. Stepping over so many bodies and souls to reach the top. He kept these memories fresh, because it kept him cold. It kept him hard. When he needed to make the cruel and necessary decisions to end a life, he did. Closed off his heart, because he couldn’t harden it no matter how he tried.

Valentino was thirty minutes late. Not an egregious amount of time but the text message had reassured him multiple times that he would be there. That he hadn’t found other company that night. These days he hardly cared, finding the sooner Valentino flitted around other whores and company the more time he got to himself. This little meeting was only by his own demand. An incessant stream of complaints about his whores demanding reasonable things.

Like intimacy coordinators. Weekends. STD screening, and fluffers who aren’t coked out on meth all the time. Any recommendations for them to give weight to their words only brought the moth to further anger to being contradicted, so to soothe his ill temper he offered the one thing he knew that worked: A strong drink and a good fuck.

The reflection of the man against the window stared back at him, showing the old and weary face with a man whose brow had bent so heavy he was feeling his age. A sigh left his body, and the dread he tried to chase away with his drink. A single drink wouldn’t be near enough to fake the masquerade of a lover Valentino wanted of him, even when he never wanted to give his heart in return. The burn of whiskey down his throat would at least numb him, let him forget so many nights of manic mood swings and crooning words of adoration that in the drug haze reminded him what it felt like to be loved.

Even if most days, he felt like he’d been made into something nobody could love. Not truly anyway.

BAM.

The doors swung wide open by Valentino’s hand, impatient for the women who minded the door. The heavy steps against the carpet warned him to turn around long before the moth uttered the first word. Those long legs could cross a room in only a couple strides. When Vox had spun around, he already found him looming over his body snatching the glass of brandy from his hand without so much as a how do you do, chugged it, and threw it against the wall. The glass shattered, soaking the wall with the dregs of the amber liquid.

“Whose FUCKING side are you on anyway, Vox?” Shoulders rose, mouth turned into a sneer, Vox impassively stared at that face of anger as he had numerous times in the past. Getting upset or angry would only make him scream louder until it drowned out his voice. Arguing back would only get him into a cyclical argument where reality only fit his purview. So he smiled. A trick many had thought he learned from Alastor, like he was some newborn innocent babe who didn’t learn any tricks of his own on how to manipulate people. In reality? He’d been pulling this same trick since he was a child under two digits.

“Val!” But Vox? He knew how to fake empathy, unlike the man who found the charade unnecessary. “You know I’m on your side. As I have said, isn’t it exhausting to replace whores time after time after time? Training them? Breaking them down? Only to toss them out over something that could be avoided over a test once in a while?”

There were only two things that appealed to his logic he could understand. Maintaining the bottom line, and power. The large wings on his back vibrated, his eyes wild and dancing behind his eyes. It was hard to tell with the rosy shades he wore, but Vox knew the signs well enough when he couldn’t sit still. The flash of that golden teeth among his lavender teeth cinched it, that man was high as a kite. That was his idea of calming down tonight, LOVELY.

“Alright, so I can do the testing bullshit. Have you met the new girl? Garnet? Fucking mouthy cunt, been up my ASS about everything. Must be new in hell. But I’m not getting no fucking intimacy coordinator! They can do their god damn job. And WEEKENDS? You and I don’t get weekends and we do just fine. Lazy bitches.” Valentino scoffed, falling onto the couch. Two arms spread across the back of the sofa, his glower still hard on Vox as he beckoned the other man to come forward with a lower hand.

With his hand feeling awfully empty, Vox strode over to acquiesce. As soon as he was within reach, Valentino’s hand seized his wrist and pulled Vox onto the couch. The lights and colors in the room spun with Valentino blocking the overhead lamp only moments later as he straddled Vox’s lap. A cage of four arms surrounded him, which may have been exciting and hot, years ago. The smile on his face twitched, maintaining the smile as he welcomed that kiss full of toxin. The feel of that long tongue down his throat brought a pleasant mind-numbing haze, making the long night… bearable.

And wake up feeling so hollow…

“Ginger! May I have a moment of your time?” The woman had been easy enough to spot, a fiery rabbit sinner with a spotted pattern on her thighs that she liked to show off. The long legs were another key feature that everyone liked to point out, what they neglected to talk about was the sight of those ears. Star-shaped sunglasses covered her eyes, rejecting any notion one could wear them even indoors. Her footsteps stopped, turning her head long enough to regard Vox pulling the glasses down.

“Garnet.” She corrected, swinging her hip to the side. “And that’ll cost ya. Fifty for fifteen minutes.” Her wrist flicked back one of the large heavy ears. The multicolored bracelets around her wrist caught Vox’s eye.

“Garnet.” Vox repeated. “I believe there’s a misunderstanding here. I’m not here to hire you, I am here to have a chat with you about your… recent behavior with Valentino. I--”

Two fingers jabbed against Vox’s lips, silencing him. So shocked by the gesture, his right eye spun with a hypnotic swirl.

“Yeah- what I’m hearing is you’re not my Pimp. So if you want time alone with me, you pay like everyone else. Can the fake ass TV personality too bitch, I ain’t born yesterday.” Garnet pulled down her glasses and held out her hand in a universal sign for money. Vox’s perfect smile began to crack, head jerking with a twitch. Vox clasped his hands together, refusing to give her so much as a damn penny.

“Garnet. You’ve been making demands of Valentino and he won’t listen to you. Don’t you think it’d be in your interest too to be able to speak to one of the men capable of bending his ear? You know he doesn’t listen to anyone else.” Despite his years of practice, Vox couldn’t temper the clip in his voice. Truth be told, Valentino barely listened to him. But Velvette and everyone else were so convinced he had far more control over the man than they thought. The binds on the moth were tenuous and he was stuck in a web much like Angel Dust.

Garnet clicked her tongue, rapping her painted fingertips against her hip as she continued the deal. The bracelets clattered with each pull of the tendon, and flashed colorfully when at long last she turned up her wrist in a flashy gesture.

“Tch-- Fine! Lead the way plasma. But we’re ONLY talking. If you want me to put out or suck your dick, you pay like EVERYBODY else. Valentino will have my hide if I give any freebies even for you.”

“I can agree to those terms.” Vox agreed easily, hovering a hand just over the woman’s back as he guided her through Valentino’s studio and into the elevator. Garnet scowled, initially wary of the cold metallic hand coming so close to her skin. The overlord gave her goosebumps, her instincts cried for her to find some excuse to leave and ignore his deal. She swallowed that bad feeling, rationalizing it was only because he was so… creepy looking. Steel elevator doors hissed closed leaving the two completely alone. Vox quickly hit the button for the fifth floor, where the conference rooms for interviews. Just a couple floors above the rooms open to the public. Garnet leaned against the walls in the corner, arms folded over her chest in a way that emphasized the size of her chest. The short shorts she wore did well to show off the rest of her assets. It only took a glance to see why Valentino dealt with her despite the aggravations she caused. That wasn’t to say her face wasn’t nice, but the deep scowl made her feel unapproachable.

“This ain’t gonna take too long is it? I wanted to get Chinese tonight, and my favorite place closes in an hour.” Garnet asked. An idle finger wound around a brunette curl, weaving into thicker and thicker circles that almost cut off the circulation.

“Order the food to be delivered here and I’ll pay for it.”

“So you’re fine paying for my food, but paying for ass is your limit?” Garnet laughed, flashing a smile. The golden tooth that linked her soul to Valentino shone in the light. Vox felt a little relief that the woman was at least capable of laughing around him. There weren’t many people in the Vee tower who still could smile. Genuinely anyway.

“I prefer… enthusiastic consent. And I don’t need you misconstruing what this is, I’m not here to lay a single hand on you Miss Garnet.”

“Huh-- well your boyfriend sure likes to help himself.” Garnet clicked her tongue, with a healthy dose of doubt in her gaze.

“Business partner. There’s nothing romantic between us, Miss Garnet. I assure you we are two entirely separate individuals. In any case… Here's our stop.” With an air of indifference, Vox motioned for his companion to exit the elevator. 

Waiting on the other side was his assistant, Papermint. The eel bowed his head in greeting. Sparing Garnet only a momentary glance, she was beneath his notice and only worthy thanks to be standing by his side in his eyes.

“Good afternoon Sir. We’ve gotten communication from your associate Mr. A. He’s settled in comfortably in the Doomsday District and has sent a formal request for necessities. Would you like me to transcribe and forward the list or fulfill it?”

A sheaf of paper presented what amounted to children’s scrawling if Vox were to be generous. Curiosity won over. Most of the demands were… ridiculous. Hard ‘necessities’, but when nothing stood out as unreasonable he thrust it back on Papermint.

“Fulfill it. Follow the standard procedure of forwarding it as a donation to Velvette’s women shelter. How’s progress on the Proxy project?”

“The first prototype will be ready for demonstration within the week according to the engineers. Would you like for me to fit it into next week's schedule?”

Garnet was quickly becoming impatient, glancing between Vox and his assistant. The two had a strange efficiency, nothing superfluous passed between the two like they’d done this dance for years. Didn’t keep her from getting bored. She took out her phone, listening in on the two while she scrolled through Sinstagram. But not before she reminded Vox she was waiting with a forcible clearing of her throat.

“Do so. Make it a priority in fact, but only if the engineers can keep to the deadline. And it’s good that you’re here, Papermint. I need you to pick up food from Garnet’s favorite restaurant. You’re to get her whatever she wants.” Garnet raised her head to the sound of her own name. The protest of her stomach reminded her of her initial plans.

“Get me an order of the Ginger chicken, side of fried rice, two shrimp rolls, and the steam dumplings!” She repeated the order with the familiarity of an old favorite. Vox arched a brow, more to the volume of the food than anything.

“Get me the orange chicken and fried rice.” Vox added. Papermint nervously jotted down the order on his clipboard, repeating it out loud for both their benefit and his own. When he wasn’t contradicted he bowed his head.

“Right away sir! Where should I bring the food when I’m done?” Papermint asked.

“Conference room 3. Knock before you enter.”

Bits of color and personality were splashed about in the conference rooms for the sake of not driving Vox utterly mad with how uniform the rest of the building was. Themed even, so Vox could enjoy something new in his routine life. This one had a little Alice in Wonderland motif, colorful caterpillars, cats, white and black rabbits, whimsical mushroom tables. But Garnet seemed unimpressed, bored even with her chin propped up on the back of her hand waiting.

“So Miss Garnet. Valentino has mentioned that you’ve had many complaints about the way he does business. Understandable grievances even, many include your own safety and comfort. After speaking with him, he’s even agreed for the STD testing, but the other two are...”

“What are you? The fucking bearer of bad news? Val can tell me himself, if he ain’t coked out of his damn mind!” Garnet cut him, snapping forward immediately. Vox pressed on as if he didn’t hear her.

“Not happening. What I am here for, Miss Garnet is something to save us both a lot of trouble. You see, when Valentino has a bad day? I have a bad day. And I don’t like having bad days Ms. Garnet so what can I do for you to help you settle in without these… ridiculous demands?”

Garnet’s mouth hung wide open, then shut with a flare of her nostrils.

“Bitch unless you’re getting Val to pay me an extra five dollars an hour? You can STUFF it and have all the bad days. I don’t care bout’ you. You ain’t his man, you his business partner. Tell him to take a hike, ain’t my problem.”

With a stern twist of his head, Vox sucked through his teeth. He didn’t expect it to be that easy. But it was easy to forget how mouthy whores could be.

“Unfortunately, we can’t sign off on such a large salary bump. Especially for somebody with so little experience and seniority within the company. And this isn’t a negotiation. This is an offer for you to get a little something for quietly doing what you’re going to do anyway. Save me and Valentino some headache, and at least make off with a nice gift-card or a complimentary jacket.” Vox stretched his smile to the limits, pushing the limits of his customer service voice.

“Fuck that shit! You can deal with the fucking headache asshole. Only reason I’m sticking around is cause you OWE me lunch for wasting my time like this.” Garnet scoffed, kicking one leg over the other. Still enraged, she muttered under her breath in a language Vox couldn’t quite understand. 

Well, this was to be expected! If she was giving Valentino this much trouble in the first place, it was never going to be easy. Vox simply had to be sure to cross his t’s and dot his I’s. The Overlord rose from his seat, crossing the distance of the room paying no mind when his guest grew weary from the growing proximity. Garnet immediately went on guard, baring a scowl at the approaching businessman. But it was too late, as soon as she made eye contact the swirl of his eye had already enraptured her.

The once beautiful chocolate colored eyes became a mirror of Vox’s, his body bent over hers on the couch keeping his word. Not a hand laid on her as his screen came closer. Hand propped on the couch as he spoke the command.

“You will forget this nonsense you’re bugging Valentino with and do your job. Won’t you?”

“I will for--” But the strength of Garnet’s will had been severely underestimated. She snapped out of it mid-sentence and slid her way to the other side of the couch with a screech. “The fuck I ain’t! I don’t know what fucking shit you’re trying to pull but you ain’t smooth!”

So shocked by the turn of events, Vox lost his words for a heartbeat. Without a single soul to her name, she would be terrifying Overlord if she hadn’t been so unlucky.

Unfortunately, she would continue to be so.

“I’m starting to see why Valentino is having such a problem with you.” Vox stated. “Well, fuck me I guess. You’re about to make my life a living hell for the next couple months.” So the mask dropped with his shoulders, the trace of his claws gliding across the glass on his face never touching.

“Again. He’s not your boyfriend, he’s your business partner. Why the hell is the fuckhead giving you trouble? Tell him to take a hike.” Garnet regarded this sudden change in personality with confusion, and admittedly a little curiosity. It was far better than the fake TV personality she dismissed from the very start.

“Because.” Vox began, forcing another smile. “If I don’t calm him down after he has a fit he starts killing employees and trashing the place. And you know who is first on the chopping block sweetheart? Because I’m thinking you’ll become his fun little new stress toy.” A glittering cyan claw shone as its treacherous point indicated right toward her breast. 

“Oh hooow noble you are. Guarding us poor helpless whores from the piss babies temper tantrums. You’re just enabling him, dumb ass. If he didn’t get what he wanted, maybe he’d learn how to fucking act like an adult for once in his life.” Garnet brushed her hands through her hair, heaving a sigh. Already reaching for the phone as she grew disinterested in the conversation.

If she had belonged to him, he would be teaching her what it meant to be smart with him. An Overlord needed to be cold and merciless, self-serving above all. But she didn’t belong to him. She belonged to Valentino. Then there was the matter of her words. The claws tapped against the back of the couch, while they weighed on his mind.

“You’re new to hell, aren’t you Garnet? You still have a fire in you. Like you have something resembling hope in you. It’s… something rare to see, usually when Valentino finds whores on the street they’re already beaten. Tired. What keeps you going?” So… he tried a new tactic, easing the expression on his face into something almost gentle, curious. Taking on the illusion of somebody who had taken a strong interest in somebody.

Cautious, Garnet eased the tension of her body language. But she remained skeptical. The mix of a compliment and somebody taking interest in her was too tempting for her to not answer.

“You wouldn’t understand, rich asshole like you. I had to EARN every damn penny I worked for. Caring for a baby sister, a sick mother, and kicking my useless father into gear. I learned quickly to not deal with nonsense. Won’t take it from you, won’t take it from a pimp. I’ll do my job well, so I expect to be paid and treated well.” She tried to remain indifferent, scrolling through Sinstagram. But nothing truly grabbed her. Her eyes kept flicking to the CEO who helped himself sitting on the couch across from her. Garnet scooted her hips until it hit the other end of the couch to put as much distance between them as possible and was deliberate about it. 

“I understand better than you might think. I’ve lived a pretty rough childhood myself. Parents were more interested in raising my older brother than I. They didn’t even make sure I was fed or washed. Told me to figure everything out myself. So I did. So I know what it means to be independent, but you had it harder. Having to care for somebody else too, growing up without ever knowing a childhood.” Vox sighed, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “And you were rewarded for all that hard work, ending up here.”

Vox threw his arms up, motioning around him indicating all of Hell. In reality, he meant that she had found herself stuck in the webs of the Vee’s, and would be eviscerated before she escaped. Hook, line, and sinker, Garnet sat up shoving her phone face down onto the cushion as she was brought to excitement.

“Tch, yeah because it’s all a load of bull that’s why! Fuck up once or twice in your life and you have to live eternity in hell, suffering under a fucking pimp?! After I sacrificed and gave everything for everyone else’s sake. I was selfish once or twice in my life, and that makes me a horrible person!”

“What kind of selfish act got you down here?”

“I… murdered my cheating ex. And his gal too. I don’t regret offing the asshole. But… I do regret killing the gal. She probably didn’t know. If she did? Well she deserves the cunt, I say. But I was too young and emotional. And in the moment? It’s not like you’re thinking rationally.” Garnet shrugged, she could forgive herself for her transgression, but it wasn’t as if the heavens ever would. “Why… am I even telling you this shit? You don’t care.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t care.” Vox reassured her, while his hand slid across the bottom of his screen as the closest thing he had for a chin. “I can see how it got you in hell, but I understand why you did it. Betrayal hurts, it runs deep. A wound that… leaves a mark on your soul. The closer this person was to your heart, the deeper the scar. When somebody hurts you like that, it’s natural. I’d want them dead too.” In fact, he was still in the middle of machinations for exactly that purpose.

“Yeah! It fucking does!” Garnet agreed, her short fluffy tail wagging with excitement. Her fist smacked the edge of the couch. “I TRUSTED that man! I gave him everything and sacrificed so much because I wanted a future with him! And he throws it away to get his fucking DICK soaked!”

Vox sat up, finding himself wrapped up in her energy, matching.

“Right?! It’s like he didn’t VALUE you at all! Didn’t appreciate you even when he meant everything to you! Just tossed you away like garbage, so why shouldn’t you get mad?! Why should you simply gracefully take it?” Vox may have put far too much of himself in righteous anger, but it paid off. Garnet herself stood up, grasping one of Vox’s hands between hers. The sudden action surprised even her, when the shock of how cold his hand was compared to hers made her yelp and yank her hands back.

Vox’s eyes darkened momentarily, the energy he once had sapping away as he pulled his hand back to rest over his knee. He would never lay a hand on her. Because he was hoping to avoid that kind of situation. Garnet opened her mouth, feeling a pang of guilt. But a knock at the door interrupted her before she could open her mouth.

Vox shot her a smile and rose up, striding over to the door. Garnet fell back onto the sofa, gazing at her hand which was still feeling ice cold thanks to only a momentary grasp. Papermint was waiting on the other side of the door, handing Vox two bags with the ordered Chinese food.

“Thank you Papermint, you are dismissed.”

The eel shut the door behind him. Vox acted as if nothing happened, as he casually returned to the seating area. He put the bags of food on the table and took his place on the opposite couch. He pulled over the closest bag, checking the items inside. When he ascertained the contents, he pushed the bag back over to Garnet and took the other one.

“Here you are! That should have your food. I’m going to take mine back to my office, we can consider our little… chit chat done here. I had hoped we could come to an understanding, but sometimes two people can’t meet in the middle. It happens.” Vox made a motion to rise again, but Garnet shot up and snatched his wrist before he could get too far.

“Wait.” Garnet gripped that wrist tighter, now that she knew what to expect she didn’t shy away from it. Out of a professional pride of course, nothing more. “Thank you, for listening. I kinda built you up as a dickhead without a heart in my head but… I guess you’re disturbingly more human than you appear.”

Vox’s cyan eyes danced toward the door, showing his desire to escape and back to Garnet herself. With a sigh of resignation he sat back down and plopped the food back on the table. Pulling out his order one by one.

“I don’t look very human, do I?” Vox stated it as what it was, simply a statement. “Well we’re demons so nobody does. But none so… utterly devoid of something owning a soul I suppose?” Vox looked at his own hands, clicking the cyan blue claws together. Garnet watched his musing, swallowing anything that might resemble sympathy.

“Fits you. You're an overlord, you ought to look like a heartless machine. But-- sure you can stay and eat with me. Not that it was an invitation. But uh… who the fuck cheated on you? Was that something that happened to ya when you were alive?”

Vox had stabbed a piece of orange chicken with his fork and brought it halfway to his mouth when the question stopped him with his mouth gaping open. He shut it and set the fork down as laughter easily came out trying to distract her from the subject.

“Why are you assuming I was cheated on? That’s quite an assumption Garnet. I was sympathizing with you. It’s called having empathy!”

“Something… I’m honestly shocked you have.” Garnet mumbled, taking the first bite of her food. The wide spread of food she prepared felt far larger once it had taken up more than half the table compared to Vox’s meager one dish with a side. But he survived off brandy and spite, more than food anyway. “And to me it sounded really personal. Like you’ve been betrayed.”

Vox took a bite of food, giving him a few precious moments to keep himself from answering. Garnet stared at his lips, waiting for him to no longer have an excuse dancing around the subject.

“I’m an Overlord Garnet. Everyone’s out to tear me from my position. Everyone’s ready to stab me in the back to take everything I own and worked for. So no, treachery isn’t anything new to me. Nobody worth mentioning betrayed me! Just a bunch of… hacks and nobodies.” The chicken danced around the plate as his form smacked against a ball of meat. He refused to speak the name that surfaced to his mind, that meant giving power. Admitting that some part of him still belonged to him.

“Hmmmm sounds rough.” Garnet answered noncommittally, sampling from each of her dishes in turn. She hummed happily with each bite, a long way working meant she was always feeling exhausted and starving by the end of the day. “This person who betrayed you, did they also flinch when they touched your hand?”

The perfect mask Vox wore was starting to crack from Garnet’s line of questioning. A blue bolt danced around his body, with an artificial tone layered with his voice like it came straight out of an old television.

“He doesn’t exist, so no.”

“He.” Garnet immediately latched onto that pronoun, twirling the fork in her hand. “Doesn’t narrow it down much. A female overlord would be much easier. Well Vox, it’s… not the weakness that you think it is. It takes a lot of courage to trust somebody. The true cowards are those too chicken shit to tell you they’re unhappy with something. Or couldn’t extend the same trust to you.”

The words hit a lot deeper than Vox would have liked to admit. His fork spun around, until he took a bite of rice instead. Fragments of that night surfaced to his mind, the memory had grown mostly hazy, black in most places as his mind tried to block it out. Forget. But the wound never left. Nor the ache. The worst part was the questions that would never have answers.

“Well, it’s a good thing there’s nobody like that. If talking about you makes you uncomfortable Garnet, there are far better things I could tell you about! My life as an overlord I’m sure is exciting but there’s only so much I can talk about it.”

“No, it’s alright. You just got a lot more interesting is all. I’ll… consider your request Vox. But in return, you’re paying for my lunch once a week. A cheap price for a little peace of mind every night, yeah?” Garnet smirked, taking another bite of her large meal. Vox had a strong suspicion these weekly meals would all be equally indulgent.

“Alright. Deal. So glad we could come to an understanding Garnet!”

It was an unexpected but not unwelcome friendship Vox built with Garnet. It wasn’t in his plans, but before long it became something Vox almost looked forward to week after week. The rabbit’s keen instinct to see past the veil was dangerous, but you had to make risks sometimes for great payouts. The temper tantrums that Valentino threw decreased by an exponential amount. Dropping to a number that was less than when Valentino first captured her soul.

The constant stream of work and exhaustion he felt afterwards and finally getting a moment to rest and enjoy himself for a few hours every day told him to simply not think about it. No use looking a gift horse in the mouth, and those few extra hours of sleep did AMAZING for his mood. Who knew taking care of your own body was so crucial to happiness?!

A month in they even ended up taking place outside of the tower, after her insisting every week. Vox never felt safe outside the tower, even with the hundreds of camera’s letting him know if there was even a whisper of red where he didn’t want it. Still his screen would look over his shoulder, watching the shadows if they were too lively.

“You’re jumpy as shit, aren’t you like… the self-proclaimed most powerful Overlord in hell?” Garnet asked, bumping Vox’s arm with her elbow. That same toothy smile with the golden tooth that reminded Vox every time of whom her soul belonged to shone.

“Exactly. I’m the most powerful Overlord in hell, which means I have a big target on my back Garnet. I’ll be fine if I’m attacked, but you on the other hand...” Vox trailed off, motioning over Garnet. The woman bumped her hip against his playfully.

“Don’t worry big guy, I can take care of myself. I’m hardier than I look! I’m one of Val’s gals! But how sweet of you, looking out for me. I guess that little steel heart of yours DOES have a soft spot.” Garnet jabbed against Vox’s with both fingers lightly. Vox bat away her hands, making it a point that she saw how hard he rolled his eyes.

“Sorry Garnet! But my heart is completely metal through and through! Val would simply get mad at me if you got hurt.” He easily reasoned away, patting the top of her head.

The two had been strolling around an artificial river in the entertainment district. Lil’ Italy they called it, and it once was beautiful but the constant trash and pollution had made it less charming than it’d been in its heyday. There were still tables lining the river, a scenic view when Hell was lacking many of them.

Their destination was a pizzeria, the absolute best in town according to Garnet with calzones worth dying again for. There was a lot more pep in Garnet’s step today than the cold language he got initially. She was having fun dancing along the raised step by the river’s edge, balancing herself with her arms held out.

“True, I am his best gal! Nobody knows how to ride a dick better than I can! If you ever open that purse of yours so the moths can fly out, maybe you’ll get to find out.” There it was again, that cheeky smile. Those propositions seemed to be coming in with increased frequency too, but Vox… was wary about new partners.

Especially ones who flinched when they touched his hand.

“That’s alright Garnet, I have plenty of men and women willing to sleep with me without paying them. I also have the Overlord of porn himself ready to ride my dick at any time, don’t forget.” Vox raised his brows, putting on that cheesy smirk. Garnet huffed, pushing up her chest fluff.

“Huh, that so? Coulda surprised me. You’ve got a shitty personality, but… I guess anyone will jump a man’s bones if he’s rich and powerful enough.” Garnet sighed, stepping off the raised curb. Her arms didn’t lower, eyes straight forward as all the whimsy left her face.

“Gee… I'm glad you and Valentino are always so ready to remind me nobody actually likes me.” Vox rolled his eyes, speaking sarcastically. Garnet’s face twisted momentarily into regret, scratching her cheek mindlessly. But silence reigned between the two of them. When they reached the restaurant, Vox opened the door for her.

“Such a gentleman. I guess you really are from the fifties, men stopped opening doors for women decades ago grandpa.”

“You’ve made the ‘I’m old joke’ like fifteen times already. It’s started to… well, get old.”

Like every week, Garnet ate a lot. Two large calzones and Garnet ended up eating one and a half of them. Vox was so generously given half of one and the greater share of garlic knots to sweeten the pot. It started as a simple deal, but when he was surrounded only by sycophants, Valentino, or Velvette? It was a rare chance for Vox to talk about.. other things. Like Vark, the books he wished he could read, the guitar that collected dust in his closet, and the embarrassing collection of vinyls he had sitting in storage somewhere. Only because they’d be worth something, one day.

Garnet turned out to be an open book, once she got started. She talked a lot about work, things Vox was already aware of thanks to Valentino but he got to know the work from the other side of the equation. The life of a whore never interested Vox much before, but the woman had enough wit she was a kind of company he could enjoy while not being threatening thanks to her not having any true power.

In truth, he was even having fun. In the rare moments when Garnet thought he wasn’t looking, she always seemed to be smiling as well. When was the last time anyone was happy to have his company…?

On the path back to the tower, instead of heading straight back to the tower, Garnet grabbed Vox’s sleeve and insisted on taking a roundabout path to grab ice cream. A stall with cartoonish ice cream pops for sale made for an easy treat to enjoy while they walked around. Garnet got an ice cream pop of a colorful character Vox couldn’t recognize for the life of him. His own choice was a boring soft serve that Garnet wasted no time in calling as old fashioned as him.

“I don’t think that your own good qualities are your… money and your power by the way Vox.” Garnet brought up the subject just as the street lamps started to flicker on for the evening. The once busy streets became sparse as everyone was in a rush to head home. The tower an increasingly looming construct in the distance. “What does… Valentino tell you exactly?”

This conversation was uncomfortable. Vox ended up tossing the rest of his ice cream into a nearby trash bin, having lost his taste for sweetness when he never cared for them in the first place. His hands thrust into his pocket, Vox weighed his words while his tongue traced the back of his teeth.

“Not much different than what you told me earlier. Nothing I don’t already know. People like me because of who I am on the TV screen, but they don’t care for the real me. They like the rich, powerful, charismatic Vox. The dour, sarcastic, cynical man beneath is… exhausting.” Vox’s voice oozed with self loathing. His shoulders raised, it was something he took in strides with acceptance. “That’s what we do in Showbiz though, Garnet. We sell people a dream, and I’m old hat in this business. You give people the dream of a woman who can take care of them or at least the illusion of making you break for them. And they can buy it for a night. You got lucky though, the real woman beneath is pretty cute.”

A shade of color came over Garnet’s cheeks, a color she tried to hide by smacking her elbow into Vox’s side. Vox yelped, giving a look as if asking her why she did that. Instead of a reason, she pulled his arm free from his pocket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“Shut up. First, I’m not cute! I’m a Goddamn whore, call me sexy or gorgeous. Second,  I’m cold after the ice cream. Third: Valentino is a fucking liar. He just wants to keep you all to himself, he’s scared of somebody taking you away from him.”

Vox laughed, rolling his eyes.

“Please, the only one Valentino wants all to himself is Angel Dust. Or whatever new toy he has, the only thing he wants from me is to--”

“Valentino loves you but he’s too stupid to admit it.”

An awkward silence fell between the two, crickets chirping filling the silence between them. Beyond all expectations, Vox started to laugh. It wasn’t a gentle laughter, it was a whooping one full of disbelief as if he’d been told the greatest joke he ever heard.

“Garnet, Garnet, Garnet! You tell some FUNNY jokes! Valentino! In love! And Hell is green!” Vox brushed a finger over his eyes miming the action of wiping away a tear. In truth, it was only a digital display. But you don’t get by in the entertainment industry without some theatrics.

“It’s not a joke. But-- fine. I can see why he’s so pissed all the time. You’re oblivious as fuck. But you also obviously don’t love him. Maybe it’s better this way,. I doubt he even realizes it himself, honestly.”

Vox sighed, not wanting to entertain this conversation. Once the two arrive at the tower, he steps through the threshold into the main lobby expecting Garnet to dismiss herself. But to his surprise, she keeps following him as far as the elevator. With a lofted brow, he took his usual spot at one corner of the elevator while Garnet settled in the opposite.

“Let’s entertain this hypothetical that Valentino is in love with me. Why does it matter to you?”

Garnet sucked through her teeth, shooting Vox a narrow eyed look. She looked so annoyed, for a reason that escaped Vox’s ability to recognize why. He dismissed it out of hand as her period bugging her.

“Do you have somebody in your life that’s special to you?” Garnet asked.

“Yeah, Vark.”

“I mean like a lover. Not your pet.” Garnet was not amused, groaning as she ran her hand through her hair. “Men...”

“You can have people special to you that aren’t lovers. Sometimes a good friend can mean more to you than a lover. Blame your poor choice of words Garnet. And no, I don’t have a lover. I don’t have time for one. I can barely make time for our lunches once a week.”

Vox briskly walked out of the elevator on the floor to his bedroom, expecting that to be the end. Still Garnet clung to his side, following by his side. He only got as far as halfway down the hall to his bedroom when he stopped and spun around to face her.

“Why are you following me?”

Garnet rolled her heads, leaning her head back as she mumbled to herself under her breath. Her fingertips pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Like I said. You’re oblivious as fuck.” Before Vox could question her on what she meant, her body pressed suddenly flush against his. Vox took one step back, arms held out far from her to keep his hands from touching her. The action made her snort and roll her eyes. “I want to spend the night with you, Vox. I’ve been flirting with you all day.”

Vox opened his mouth to speak, shut it tight. While he mentally revisited the day over his head, he almost felt like a complete moron for missing it in retrospect. He inhaled deeply and settled his hands on her shoulders, pushing her off of him.

“Garnet, I already told you. I have no interest in paying for sex. If you’re struggling for customers that’s what Valentino is for--”

“Shut the fuck up! I’m not struggling for clients, and screw the money. I want a night with you, not as Garnet but Ashley. And I want a night with you as Vox, not the overlord but the cynical stupid asshole who can’t tell when somebody is flirting with him.” Garnet snatched his blazer, crinkling the jacket underneath her fingers. A blush rose up on her cheeks, eyes misty with frustration. Vox stared at her, in silence for several seconds. When he didn’t answer, Garnet shook his whole body.

“Say something!”

“O-ok...” Vox quietly answered.

“Yeah I know I’m a whore but-- wait-- what did you say?”

“I said, ‘O.k, Ashley.”

Ashley, the aforementioned Garnet buried her face into his chest, crying tears of frustration and relief. Those hands came around to gently hug the woman bursting into tears. What started as a soft hiccup became a stream of tears as her arms came around his waist. Normally such intimacy, the warmth of body like this against Vox sent off all his warning signals.

Streams of evenings in a radio tower, the memory of his antennae being bent, black sclera, so much blood, and old jazz playing accompanied by the visceral memories of claws and teeth. And Pain. So much pain that he ended up pushing her away again as he gasped for air. The flashbacks intruding in his head, never clear and only in such fragments as he intentionally blocked out those decades long ago.

In order to avoid any prying eyes from catching the awkward situation, Vox snatched Ashley’s wrist and tugged her into his bedroom. Glancing over his shoulder to reassure himself nobody was watching and stepped inside. It was moments like these that Vox felt almost embarrassed by the opulence his room possessed. What stood out most in the room was the massive aquarium from above and a loft that was specifically for the extravagance of eating next to the tank. The bed was tucked against the loft with bookshelves carrying mostly books ghostwritten by writers hired to write biographies and phony advice about success. Still for a touch of class there were the classics that had somehow been able to draw him lining the shelves.

A station in one of the corners for repairs, the paranoid man always preferring to fix himself by his own hand. A large flat-screen TV and sofa the perfect size for two, or one man who didn’t know how to close his legs when he sat. Posters of old movies that were once passion projects that Vox directed for personal touches, and a poor neglected game system collected dust on a coffee table.

“I’ve never seen a single man’s room look so clean before. I don’t even see any clothes on the floor. Got a maid?” Garnet asked.

“Yes, they come every day at noon, usually to make the bed and handle the laundry. Change the sheets if necessary.”

Ashley broke away from Vox, stepping into the room ahead of him with her hands behind her back. Gone were the tears, more interested in glancing hints of the man she had followed into his own bedroom. Vox on the other hand kept his eyes on her like a hawk, finally catching up with the reality that Ashley was here to sleep with him. For reasons he couldn’t understand.

Ashley threw out her hands and smacked her thighs as they came back down, spinning on her heel as she sat on top of the large king size bed. Her body bounced, yelping when she came right back up. Her fingers ran through her dark hair as a clear and energetic laughter rang out.

“Your bed is so bouncy! Sex must be so much fun on this!”

Vox hummed his assent, slowly closing the distance between the two. He’d agreed at the moment, but going through with the action still felt almost unnatural. He had not even realized she was attracted to him in that way, somehow he’d missed all the signs.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Ashley tucked one leg over the other, tucking a lock of hair behind her ears. It only fell back over her face, drawing his attention to how long and beautiful her hair really was. It was only minutes away from being spread out on his bed, if he could find the courage to go through with it.

“Why do you want to sleep with me?”

Ashley sighed heavily, falling back and catching herself by the palms of her hand.

“You’re kinda helpless aren’t you? To be honest, I don’t really know myself. I know that you’d never have a relationship with a hooker. That would be bad for your image, and frankly I hate the idea of being thought of as some gold digger. But I still kind of like the dream y’know? That I could maybe mean something to you, for a little while. I spend every day feeling like a piece of meat but you’re one of the men who I feel actually… looks at me. Ashley. Not who you want to see.”

That’s because she never could be what he wanted to see. There was not even a shade of the man who still haunted his nightmares in her. Save the snarky tongue, but she was far too pliable and vulnerable to be… him. Silently Vox boxed her in, pinning her down into the bed. Ashley fell back, her hair spread out in a dark halo around her head as her misty eyes gazed up at him with an affection he couldn’t recognize. He thought-- This must be what it’s like to truly be wanted. Vox felt… nothing for her. But the promise of what she offered guided him forward.

Vox felt nothing, but he knew how to move his hands exactly how a lover would. Ashley didn’t flinch, anticipating even the awkward bump of his metal hand cradling the back of her head. Little whimpers not of lust but a craving far deeper and vulnerable being fulfilled as his lips met with hers over and over again. Her body clung to his, molded to his cold unyielding shape. She grasped for him for all she had, cried for him, shivered and welcomed him to take from her in a sweet dance that dreams were made of.

Her soft body was furred, not much but a thin coat that felt familiar when it brushed against his bare hands. It was the only thing that could shake him to the core. And that bit of hesitation was all it took for that dewy eyed woman to embrace him as if she could sense the ache in his soul. The fracture that had left him feeling an emptiness he could not fill beyond the endless climb for power and influence. He could even play the part of a man moved by her empathetic heart, yet another actor in a play.

Vox couldn’t make… the emptiness go away. Nothing filled it. Like an animatronic left on auto-pilot, he only felt more empty as he lay in the bed staring at the tank above as the sharks in the tank massive shadows shrouding their bodies. Ashley’s body curled against him sweet and tender, stretching with satisfaction that was proof he had played his part to perfection. And he was… still fully clothed save for the flaccid dick that rested against his leg.

“So… who were thinking of?” Ashley asked, her cheek nestled against his chest. Vox’s claws played with her hair, scratching behind her ear.

“Hm? I wasn’t thinking of anything Ash. I was just basking in the moment.”

“No. Who were you thinking of when you thinking of when you were fucking me?”

Vox rolled onto his side, using the pillow as a support for his head, rolling his eyes at the accusation.

“Who said I was thinking about anyone else? You’re beautiful Ash. Gorgeous even.” Vox wove a claw through her hair, weaving it around his fingers and pressed it against her cheek. It was a buffer from the cold, something he meant to be sweet but Ashley rejected the sentiment, pulling her face away.

“I’ve been working this business long enough to know when I’m a proxy Vox. Unfortunately you came on a little too strong there, it made it easy to tell. I’m not mad though, it was nice.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. Ashley closed her eyes, taking his hand into hers and laid it out on the bed. Her fingertips did a slow gentle exploration tracing the shape of his claws, the bones, the many bones that made up the tools that had covered themselves in so much blood and built an empire.

“There’s… nobody like that. I thought there was, once. But it was… all manipulation on their part. It was a way to keep a hold on me. And they always had full intentions of stabbing me in the back once they got their use out of me.” Vox’s tone turned sour. The tension in his hand grew until one claw pushed back the thin fabric of the sheets and tore into the mattress. He hissed with annoyance. But one more bandage to throw under the sheets, mended by the maids.

“So that’s who betrayed you huh… it takes a while to heal from that. I don’t even think I’m ready to actually entrust my heart to anyone either but-- I do like you Vox. I wouldn’t mind something casual and fun. The weekly lunches and sex after, if… you’re up for it.” Ashley ran her hand down his arm. Vox rolled over, hovering over her with his palms catching him on either side of her head. Her face flushed with color, looking like she had entrusted more than a casual piece of her heart.

Vox suspected she was lying. But he couldn’t understand-- why. Vox bent down, stealing her lips in a soft kiss. Patient, soft, one that had her body arching into his with need. She clung to him, pulled him down on top of her, and tugged on the clothes he refused to take off. He kept pushing off her hands whenever she tried, only for her to push him away frustrated.

“Why won’t you at least remove the damn vest? Do you always fuck with only your dick out?”

A light blue color covered Vox’s screen, filling just under his eyes. He pulled himself away, sitting on the edge of the bed to put distance between the two of them. The overlord’s leg bounced, feeling discomfort settle in. Ashley still was far too damn perceptive.

“You’re imagining things.” Vox argued. Ashley sat up, crawling over to wrap her arms around his back. His first instinct was to push her off, but he fought it. Only locking up and gripping his knees harder.

“Vox? Is there some kind of scar or tattoo you don’t want me to see? Cause I’ve slept with MUCH worse I promise no matter what you got under there. I bet you are beautiful, so why not just the vest? You can keep the shirt on.”

“No, there’s no tattoo or scar under there Ash. I just feel more comfortable with the clothes on. I don’t-- want to feel the fur on your body. Alright?”

Never given a reason to feel so self conscious before, her hands ran across her own body feeling the thin layer of fur that covered her. People always complimented her on how velvety and soft it was, how it made sex pleasant and addicting. Her smile faded from her lips, turning away to grab her clothes, throwing them all on.

“Alright-- fine asshole.”

“Wait-- Ash!” Vox clicked his tongue, chiding himself. “It’s not that—mm!”

“It’s not WHAT Vox? That you hate it? Because it sounds like you do.”

“Yeaah… but it’s not your fault, it’s me. I didn’t mean to make you feel ba--”

FWUMP.

Ashley picked up one of the nearby pillows, throwing it at his head hard. The impact sent him back, smacking the offending item to the floor beside him. Large grit teeth flashed across his face in a momentary anger, then he kicked it aside turning his back to her.

“Alright- fine. I’m sorry you feel so upset Ashley. I thought you’d understand.” Vox couldn’t hold back the venom in his voice. Incredulous, Ashley threw up her hands and shook her head in disbelief.

“Sorry I FEEL that way? Shoulda known you were a fucking narcissist.” With a click of her tongue, Ashley picked up her purse last, making her way to the door. Something in Vox snapped in that instant, turning into an arc of lightning that blocked her path to the door. His hands clamped down on her forearms, his large face looming close to hers while his red eyes seemed to dominate her whole view. His voice was dark when he spoke.

“What. Did you call me?”

Normally when Valentino got aggressive and angry with her, she knew how to handle it. But Vox was somebody she had not quite… figured out yet. Refusing to let him cow her, she glared and repeated herself loud and clear.

“A narcissist.”

Arcs of blue electricity covered his body, claws dug into his flesh leaving welts in their path. The rabbit’s fur stood on end while dark laughter rumbled from the inhuman sinner who looked at it in that moment.

“I’ll give you a narcissist, Ashley.” He lifted her up from the floor, slamming her hard against the steel door. A blaring red light showed it had no intention of opening. The cold unyielding steel hurt, eliciting a pained squeak from the whore. 

A narcissist?

A NARCISSIST?!

“Poor sweet ASHLEY. Wants to be the one to save me! Feels pity for little ol’ Vox. Well NEWSFLASH.”

He pulled her free from the door and slammed her against it harder. Her head smacked against the steel door, sending stars to her eyes from the hard impact. The bravado she had melted, with true genuine fear reflecting in her eyes.

“I was playing along with this little farce because you were starting to behave nicely. Even Valentino was happier, I don’t know what you were doing but I imagine you were even taking my lumps for me weren’t you?” A rare bit of sweetness mixed into his voice, eyes narrowing into soft affectionate squints. “What a sweet, hardworking, independent Ashley! And you were hoping I’d fall for you too, once you showed me that womanly side of you too? So soft, so yielding, waiting for somebody to save you.”

“W-what the fuck is wrong with you?” Ashley whispered, eyes wet and dewy with tears. “Why are you doing this? What have I done to you to deserve this?” Her voice cracked, with real genuine tears staining her face. If Vox had something resembling a heart, he may even feel bad. But-- he was empty.

SO FRUSTRATINGLY EMPTY.

“Nothing. You did nothing wrong Ashley, you were simply useful. Now that you are no longer useful… you’re being cast aside. That’s all. But I had fun, that was genuine. And you were even a fun lay, a little boring. But it felt nice to see you throw away that pride begging me to fuck you.” Red strips ran down the manic smile, this was the best part. Always the best part when they realized what Vox truly was.

A monster.

“Have anything you want to say before I hand you back over to Valentino, Ash?” Vox asked, letting her body slowly slide down the metal door until her feet reached the ground. He hooked a claw underneath her chin, inclining her head back to look up at him.

“You got what you deserve. I pray whoever broke you gets your hopes up again and breaks you all over again.” Ashley spat that curse, spat in his face even. The glob of saliva tricked down his screen with a low hanging scowl lingering near the bottom of his frame. The movement was quick, practiced. He’d done it so many times before. A cut across her throat that wouldn’t regenerate in time. Silenced, aware of her impending death, Ashley covered her slit throat trying to hold in the blood as her body bent over.

Vox stepped back, avoiding getting as much blood on his clothes as possible. He removed the phone from his pocket, hit a name on the speed dial and held the phone up to his face. Papermints face appeared moments later.

“Yes sir?” The eel stood to attention.

Vision turning black, Ashley’s body collapsed onto the floor feeling her body first go intensely cold. Then… a slow comforting daze watching the retreating feet wander further into the room. A stretching pool of blood covering her body.

“We have a dead body needing retrieval in my room. Have a team ready to extract and clean the scene. Yes, rush job. I’d like to sleep in a few hours.”

…

..

.

“Papermint. What I am about to speak to you about will ABSOLUTELY not leave this room. And that’s an order, you got it?”

It had only been a day since that event with Garnet. And he’d not slept, nor could he. The thin line of his sanity was fraying at the edges, and he could only handle this nightmare for so much longer before he fell apart. Valentino was thankfully out thanks to his current binge. Velvette was also consumed with her newest seasonal show that Vox had some time to work on a project that had been long in the making for months now.

“Y-yes sir...” Papermint clutched the clipboard in his hands, shivering with nerves as he followed Vox into the large office with his most beloved tank. The large sharks in the tank may have been menacing to most, but to Papermint? They were beloved creatures he also spent a great amount of time taking care of. Far less nerve wracking than his boss who looked somehow even more haunted than usual.

Considering how thin he was, that back wasn’t large but he managed to loom all the same. More in the intense amount of souls he had locked away in his body and the charisma a man like him had to possess to get that far in the first place. An exhausted sigh fell from the overlord’s lips, eyes narrowed as he looked at the simpering yes man. Until he wasn’t a yes man in the most baffling and annoying ways. Gentle clicks of his claws rapped against the table, tugging over a contract that he’d slowly been working away on for weeks. Once Papermint had come close enough he shoved over by the back to get a closer look.

The eel bucked forward, catching himself with one palm smacking the table. The neat fine lettering was written in that obtuse legalese that his long years working under Vox made as legible as anything written in plain English. Papermint had consigned people to terrible fates with these same contracts knowing exactly what was waiting for them within.

But as his eyes poured over the contract, the more mystified he became. He clutched the paper, glancing over to Vox and then the contract. Again and again. The man remained patient, only arching a brow as if to encourage him to speak instead of leaving him guessing what his questions might be.

“But-- sir? Why me?” Papermint asked.

Vox chuckled darkly, his cyan claws affectionately ran through the teal hair. Try as he might, the eel hated how easily he leaned into that touch knowing it was anything but sweet. That same kind of manipulation that Garnet fell prey to? It was one and the same and he recognized it for what it was. But he… liked that part of the man he worked for.

“You know why. If you were too stupid to figure it out, I would have thrown you out long ago. And if you’re trying to be obtuse to be cute...” A pointed end jut against his nose. “It’s not working. You’re the man most capable who understands most of what goes on under my part of the empire. That leaves you the most capable when I take my extended vacation.”

“Surely we can keep things working fine for a couple weeks without you Sir! I don’t see why you need to temporarily give power to me. I’m not… I can’t handle that much power! It’s--” Papermint was quick to argue, but the press of his claw against his lips shut him up. Vox sat on the edge of the desk, drawing Papermints attention with a beguiling light from his monitor.

“You are far more capable than you realize, little Minty. I believe in you, and you believe in me… don’t you?” The hiss of that claw tracing along Papermint’s chin, so sweet and coaxing with the husky voice was everything he wanted. Eyes shut tight, he fought against the initial disbelief he wanted to spit. Those technicolor eyes drawing closer and closer until at least he cried out,

“You can TRUST me SIR!”

With a dark chuckle, Vox pat the eel’s back.

“What a PERFECT answer, Mint! Now… sign here.” With a lingering brush against Papermint’s arm, he took the wrist and guided it over to the contract. Putting a pen directly into his hand and motioning a dotted line.

There was a breath of hesitation, until the same claw came brushing against his back. A squeak erupted from him as he hastily scrawled out his name onto the parchment. The name didn’t even have time to dry when Vox hugged Papermint close to him with a bright gleaming smile.

“Excellent! I know you will do a fantastic job!”

“I-I’ll endeavor to not disappoint you sir...”

“Vox, what the FUCK were you thinking when you killed my whore?” The roar of Valentino was to be expected, and it was exactly why Vox had preempted him by meeting him in his room. If he was going to trash a room, he’d much prefer it was Valentino’s. The glass in his room was thick, but the brutality of Valentino’s was unnerving sometimes. A table went soaring past his head, splintering into a mess. He’d grown numb to things being thrown at him, stepping past the mess with a roll of his cyan pupils. Arms crossed behind his back, slightly forward with a swirl in his right eye he spoke to Valentino as he always did when the two were alone. Shed of the mask.

“It was unavoidable Valentino. She was growing attached to me and was trying to get close to me. She even slept with me for that purpose.”

Valentino squeaked, the fur around his neck ruffled. The bright pink eyes blinked, as genuine surprise overcame him. The feelers on his head puffed out as he strode across the room to grab hold of Vox’s screen, forcing its light to stare up at him. He pressed his face against the screen, connecting their foreheads. The light of the monitor drew him, the wings on his back opening wide and fluttering before settling again in anticipation.

“Garnet was fond of you, was she? And you rejected her? Good.” Valentino chuckled darkly, sliding his palm across the frame affectionately. A kiss laid across the screen, once between his eyes, another under his eyes, then he connected their lips. Holding the man in place until electricity coursed through his body sending his fur poofing out. The golden tooth glinted, peeking between the rose pink teeth. “Why did you reject her, Voxxy?”

The affectionate coo in Valentino’s voice already told Vox exactly what he wanted to hear. The little draw of that gray fingertip on the bottom of his screen was a telltale sign. Vox mustered his biggest smile, cradling Valentino’s face between his cold claws.

“Because YOU are the one who is most important to me, Valentino. I couldn’t let her turn me against you. So… I had to show her how devoted I was to you.”

Another happy squeak left the mouth, pressing two of his own hands over Vox’s hands, leaning into him. The second set tugging on the lapels of his blazer to pull him forward. The solid feel of the other man’s body against his was familiar and appreciated in a way no other was. Brushing over his waist, his hips, holding them tight against his.

“Mmn~ Then I can forgive you amorcito if that’s why you did it! I’ll have that puta punished for her foolishness don’t you worry. But still… She's one of my best workers. This will cut into my bottom line Voxxy!”

“I’ll take you shopping this weekend, how about that? We’ll get dinner at the High Rise and then when we get back I’ll brush your wings for you and I’ll even let you decide on top of bottom. How about that?” Vox drew his fingers through the fluff on Valentino’s neck, tracing it with his claws affectionately. He was summarily lifted, carried by his massive business partner(with benefits).

“Oh Voxxy! You understand me! Still…” After spinning the man around in his arms, he let him down with a dark color flashing over his face. “Garnet’s been acting weird for the past month. She was acting so well-behaved lately and I thought she was starting to understand her place. I might have to re-educate her if she returns to her old ways. I don’t want to deal with an ornery bitch.”

Vox brushed down his coat, feeling relieved he’d been spared most of a temper. It meant throwing Garnet to the lions, something that came to him quite easily these days. Was there guilt? A little prick. But he wouldn’t have risen to the top if hetruly had a heart.

“Trust me, I think she’s learned her lesson about messing with us. So if that settles our grievances with Garnet I do have a meeting to get to in thir--”

A hand snatched Vox’s wrist, locking him in place before he could make his retreat. Valentino loomed over Vox, blocking out the lights from overheard.

“Oh, we’re not done yet. I don’t want you for the weekend. I want you now.” Valentino yanked Vox back, pressing the smaller Overlords’ body flush against his. The dark light in the moth’s eyes spoke of what he wanted. A fuck, and a brutal one.

“Val, I still have work. I can’t drop everything on a dime you know that. When I have time I’ll give you a call. Then I’ll fuck your bra-”

Before he could finish that sentence, Valentino’s mouth crashed hard against his. The intrusion of that moth’s tongue forced entry into his mouth, filling him with that mind numbing poison that made sex pleasant, even enjoyable. Dulled his sentences until nothing but fire filled his body. The pheromones thick in the air trapped with nowhere to go while Vox lingered in his realm.

“Oh no no, amorcito. I want you tonight. Have your little twink call off your next meeting. Tell him you’re busy with me. You were so sweet getting that needy little whore off of you. I’m the one you truly want, aren’t I?” Valentino cooed.

The room spun, it was nothing more than a flashing array of colors and swirls. He wasn’t even sure where Valentino’s voice came from, but he could feel his heat everywhere. He could feel a warm soft bed beneath him, or what he thought was a bed, and so many hands undressing him. Shedding the clothes that he protectively wore. But the poison? The poison made him not even care anymore.

“Of course Val. You’re the only man in Hell who has stuck by me for so long. You forgave me all those years ago and we’ve been through thick and thin. You care...” Vox meant those words. The two had been through the worst Hell had to offer together. The gentle touch of those hands cradling his screen, running over his bare body made him sigh and relax.

“Nobody will ever stand by your side like I do Vox.” Valentino cooed, drawing patterns on Vox’s screen. “Nobody will love the way you light up the way I do. And your weird little TV head. But I love it.” Lips pressed between his eyes, leaving a soft wet residue painted in the same color lipstick he wore.

“You’re right...”

“I’m the only one who knows the real you, Vox. The nasty little cunt who plays with people's feelings like toys and breaks them. You’re such a horrible, horrible, hoooooorrible fake. But I accept you, and I’m the only one who ever will.”

The lights above shut off. It was dark, but it was soooo warm. Carmine wings covered his whole world, and the warmth and soft feel of Valentino’s body covering his wrapped thick around his body. Half of him was suspended, he felt split down the middle, but he didn’t feel empty. Not like this, especially when the intoxicating drug filling his system made everything tingle. He couldn’t remember what he’d been doing or why he was here. Not that it mattered anymore.

“I’m broken.” Vox mumbled.

“That’s right! You’re broken Vox. I’m broken too, but you’re broken in a way that you fit perfectly with me. Nobody will complete you like I do. My beautiful, broken, nasty little Vox. Alastor threw you away, but I will always, always want you Vox.”

Like he was deep under the ocean, he felt an odd sense of peace as the warmth and pleasure washed over his body in waves. The heady breaths of the man above him, the feel of those four hands wandering across his body was addicting. It made him feel...something. What? He didn’t care. It was far better than the emptiness that made up the rest of his existence.

“You love me, don’t you Vox?” Valentino’s breath tickled his screen.

Love?

Love.

Yeah, this wasn’t love. This was just a… distraction. He’d long since stopped believing in love, but he refused to let the words pass from his lips. When the silence stretched, the pleasant haze he experienced faded. Valentino’s hazy face hand above his, but he couldn’t read the face. Not through the fog.

“You love me, RIGHT?” Valentino spoke more firmly, holding Vox’s screen tight. Pressing his thumb against the glass it began to bend. Pain assaulted the overlord, and his hands were far too weak to relieve the pressure.

“Val-- you’re hurting me!”

“YOU LOVE ME, DON’T YOU?!” Valentino screamed, applying more pressure as his teeth grit. “SAY IT! Say you love me damn it! Nobody will ever want your ass besides me! They’ll throw you away, like Alastor. Like your MOTHER.”

Crick.

Cracks formed in the glass, forming a river in the fractures while sparks from the gaps on the screen. Vox pawed at the wrists, applying pressure with his claws trying to force Valentino to loosen his grip.

“Val! Stop…!”

“You UNGRATEFUL prick! You don’t know what I suffered for your ASS! When Alastor threatened to kill me because you made him aware of me. And worse, he found where I LIVED because of you. I risked death to pick your pathetic sorry ass off the street because I felt sorry for you. And you can’t even love me!”

A pair of hands wrapped around Vox’s throat, creaking against the various thick wires that made up his neck. But Valentino knew exactly where to squeeze to suffocate his windpipe. The pleasure had turned into a screaming pain as his inside felt like they were on fire. Fire and needles in his lungs, a fire in his rear, and his vision distorted as the fractures in the glass traveled further and further across his face until the webbing had reached the center of his face.

The howling of Valentino’s throat became incomprehensible while his vision became black. Yet instead of fear, all Vox felt was… relief. The drug had left his body weak and helpless, a leaf in a violent storm. Purple flowers bloomed over his skin, fire burned his lungs, filth and blackness filled him from the inside out. He’d been thrown undertow– Valentino’s voice so far away.

He wanted this. He asked for this. This was…

This was….

Wanted.

He deserved this. He betrayed Garnet. He betrayed Valentino by his inability to love him, even if it’s what he needed. Because he was broken beyond repair. It was as if a monster was tearing him open, devouring everything inside and he couldn’t only watch and wait for it all to be over soon. Then… 

Vox's consciousness shifted. There was no darkness, no nothing. One moment he felt as if death was filling him from the inside out lost in a roaring waterfall of sheets twisting around his powerless body and the undulating monster looming over him screaming of love. The next, there was a crisp twenty dollar bill sat by his head, a blanket haphazardly tossed over his waist. As if modesty had any worth anymore.

The faint noise of a Verosika Mayday song played in a low volume on the radio. Not that infernal bastard's station, of course. Voxify’s radio stations. That which catered to the world at large and its various tastes. The overhead fan spun and spun long after the inertia that once carried it was gone. Valentino was long gone, but he could taste the lingering poison of Valentino’s on his tongue. Like acid in the back of his throat and the rosy smell of his perfume.

I thought I could stomp you out

Like a fire

Like a flame

It’s done but I’m covered in ashes

And I still feel the same

I guess if I get rid of every sign of what we ever did

There’d be no one left to blame

Baby I’m not over it

I’m over you

I’m over you

Chapter Text

They say Love is but a form of obsession

And you once filled me to the utter brink

Then when it came time to exorcise you, I had to tear out my entire heart

You’ve turned me into a monster, and only now do you see me

Six months after the battle with the angels and Alastor’s festering wound still burned in his chest. Leaving a webbing welt of yellow that refused to go away no matter how many times he tried to seal it back up. It didn’t interfere with his work, and most were too foolish to even dare a confrontation with The Radio Demon. But that niggling little weakness hung there in the back of his mind, making his fingers itch that same spot again and again right over his black and shriveled heart. A walk on the town at least promised a nice distraction, while his mind continued to cycle over potential avenues of healing the wound.

Rosie was his first stop! Pinky fingers, coffee, and naturally the tea! Her ear always on the heartbeat of the Pentagram city, information aplenty was ready to be traded to keep him appraised of opportunity. A crucial trait for an overlord! The next stop was a stop with his favorite watchmaker. The pretty thing sitting snugly in his breast-pocket had given up the ghost. The usual man in Cannibal Town had mysteriously disappeared.

The fault of which if the rumors Rosie gave were to be true; he’d dared to import one of those detestable digital watches to add to his repertoire! After some playful jab’s lamenting that he’d not been invited to the feast, Alastor had to dismiss himself earlier than usual so he could find the next closest artisan. An increasingly rarer thing to find as the ages pass.

It had the ill fortune of taking him far deeper into Vox’s territory than Alastor would have preferred. On every corner, hidden beneath neon signs and sometimes right in the wide open cameras watched his every step. Panning and turning to follow the blurry outline he impressed to the man who was surely watching. Yet vanity had tempted him to stop and make eye contact with one camera, removing the interference long enough to taunt his former friend on the other end.

The memory, the brand he’d etched on that man’s very body and soul would never release if he had anything to say about it. If he dared to forget, he’d dig the scalpel until it scratched the bone or steel beneath with his initials.

Many had deemed him dismissive and even unaffected by the former protege. But his pride would never allow him to confess that the name still rankled him. That he had some power over him. Pretending he was nobody and ignoring him because the sight of him always created this fury in his heart he wanted nobody to perceive. And Vox was… everywhere. On the billboards, on the screens, in advertisements. The famous moniker, ‘Trust Us’ plastered so many times the meaning of the words ceased to be.

The streets were filthy, littered with garbage thanks to the dense population that had no care for the community they lived in. Litterbugs were always promptly taken care of in Cannibal Town, there people had manners, and taste! It rankled the deer’s fur, making the hair stand on the back of his neck. But one more tick to add to the wall of offenses he felt for Vox’s ways of handling things.

It was then that he noticed: It had gotten awfully quiet.

The streets should be bustling, but Alastor only saw the occasional addict strung out in an alleyway, a corpse, or a rare scurrying sinner making themselves scarce. It was quiet. Only the hum of multiple televisions kept the silence at bay, when the thrum of city life ought to be drowning out his senses. A half peeled advertisement plastered over a brick wall caught his attention. The artificial showman’s smile of the face of the Vee’s displayed for a new movie.

A remake of Casablanca. In color.

Alastor turned his head, making sure there was not a soul in sight. In a flash, the corner of the advertisement caught on fire, burning away until only soot painted the brick. The fading remnants of the last corner smoldered on the concrete, crushed beneath his heel. To the onlooker it may even look ridiculous how offensive this one poster was, that it had to be ripped over and burned until not a scrap remained. There were countless no doubt draped over the city. All equally offensive.

The whine of the camera’s followed his every footstep, with shadows flickering in the places outside of his peripheral. Alastor wasn’t alone, but nor did he live with fear. Head held high, he ignored the alarm bells in his head screaming about how impossibly quiet the area had become. When he turned a corner, he found where everyone had been hiding. A line of sinners, hundreds of them with red swirling eyes blocked his way with a sea of bodies. The shop was right past these throng of people, barricading the way.

Alastor’s fingers twitched, an issue he had no issues dealing with the fun way. Yet, the words of his mother always encouraging him to at least treat women with dignity meant he couldn’t quite become indiscriminate. When he turned on his heel to search for another way they were already circling around him. Each and every soul with that same vacant drooling stare. The row of televisions in front of the store display all flickered on at once. The familiar face of Alastor’s face drooling with excitement.

“Alastor! Don’t see you in my neck of the woods too often. To what do I owe the pleasure?” The voice came out heavily filtered by the multiple speakers in the storefront. Grating and uncomfortable.

“Not by my choice, I assure you old friend! Unfortunately, circumstances had made the trip here necessary. I could go without you in my hair, but we must all make sacrifices for the greater good.” Alastor answered him with a grand shrug, “Now, if you could move your meaty barricade I could spare us both a lot of trouble.”

“Oh, don’t worry Al. They’re just there to keep you company. I’ve got a surprise for you! I would hate for you to leave before I have the chance to give it to you!” The right eye of the media lord swirled hypnotically, impatience making his tone curt. Sure enough, the confines of the ring were slowly encroaching.

Gooseflesh rose from the base of his spine to the tips of his ears. Filthy rabble. Their meaty claws, hands, feathers, and whatever sinner’s possess had no right to be upon his person. The crimson sclera darkened to black as his body contorted. Two large hands planted against the pavement while ichorous black tentacles sprouted from his body. The displays of the nearby televisions went haywire as the chaotic tin of his radio signals undulated. Unheard to the poor meaty creatures that he would selectively slide down his gullet. Though a harder aspiration than to put into reality. They were so packed hard together that his increasing size only had them already putting their filthy hands upon him before he could devour a single one.

Each little paw felt like maggots crawling under his skin, hot humid and unsanitary. His plans were immediately forgone, shrinking back to his normal size. He took to the shadows, slinking underneath everyone’s feet as loath as he was to feel trampled upon. And outside that same circle, he had found something rather unexpected. Vox himself in the flesh, a handgun in his right hand. The glint of angelic steel lining the tip immediately warned Alastor of the danger.

It’d been eight years since Alastor saw that face in the flesh, figuratively. Only on posters, billboards, advertisements, cardboard cut-outs, even played on television screens across bay-windows. At last, with only a span of distance less than twenty feet Vox was within reach. Not an imposing figure by any standards, standing to the same height as him. Familiar--- but foreign thanks to the new sleek casing that now housed his face.

Once those four borders housed gentle crimson eyes and a smile that always took up half the screen. His favorite smile. Now it was cold and hard, with only a thin line to meet him and brows pressed deep to arch his eyes into unfamiliarity. Nearly a stranger with intent to kill. A reality he’d known, but never thought Vox to have have the courage to do by his own hand. Flattering-- and the ONLY way Alastor would ever accept his death. To go out quiet and against an impersonal hand would be an insult to everything he’d built in the near century he dwelt in Hell.

Vox’s finger pressed against the trigger, chest no longer rising as he took aim. The bullet whizzed past, only grazing Alastor’s cheek and whipping the air around it. Duo-toned locks danced from the heat that passed by, and in it’s path a thin trail of blood seeped from the open wound.

“It’s taken eight years, but we finally get to finish what we started Alastor!” At last a manic smile flashed over the screen, a swirl in Vox’s right eye noting his excitement. Many times he’d seen the deadly gaze, but to have seen it turned onto him had sunk in had much their relationship had deteriorated. The reflection of a bond that could not be called friendship nor love into it’s bitter equivalent. Hatred so profound it’s dark tendrils swallowed everything else. A cleansing fire that fed on pain, fed on love, fed on joy, and the gasoline was every compounding memory so heavy one was liable to drown in it.

As Alastor’s palm brushed over the bleeding wound, the sight of his own blood didn’t disturb him. He’d spilled it himself a number of times, finding pain to be far preferable to pure ennui. This was strange and bitter, not inspiring joy or sadism. It was a feeling of witnessing something that had been broken irreparably. A shattered tea cup, where only the reversing of time could fix. As Vox took aim again, Alastor understood: He’d have to crush the remainders of those pieces into dust. It would be a suitable end for him, dramatic enough to satisfy his entertainer’s heart. But Pride would never allow it to come so easily.

“Ah! There are you are Vox! I was starting to believe you had become timid with how impossible it has been to wrest you from your lofty tower HAHA!” Unaffected, or the illusion of it! Alastor’s golden grin twitched at the edges as he prepared himself. Tentacles splayed and at the ready, cane held out as he resigned himself to pick up the mantle of a battle that was left half done so many years ago. The shadows wriggling across the pavement came to life, with hundreds of tormented souls rising to meet the challenge. With their stitched grins and void like eyes matched with doll grins they all turned their eyes upon the lone man who stupidly came to challenge them.

Iron cords sparking hot with electricity met with the ichorous black tendrils of the Radio Demon, erratic chaotic bolts of electricity singed any demon who dared to come too close to the Media Demon’s body. But every gunshot-- every potent chance to snuff Alastor’s from this world entirely had only embedded themselves into a tentacle evoking a pained by delighted scream or a sacrifice of one of a tortured soul given clemency from it’s torment.

Seven years had given Vox an advantage to stockpile his souls, gain power. While Alastor’s injury was working against him, sending occasional wracks of pain that made his hands clench and hesitate in crucial moments. A clumsy step had brought what he thought would be the end with then next dry crack of the air making for a bullet.

Alastor could feel a pressure in his chest, a hole in his blazer that gave Vox pause. Time itself seemed to stop, even if only a few seconds passed as he peeled back the blazer to discover the same watch he’d come to repair now had a bullet lodged inside it.

“You’re FUCKING shitting me?!” Vox yelled, taking aim once more. This time Alastor had managed to avoid the next shot by slipping into the shadows. A man like Vox knew him far too well, spinning not to his back but to his right only narrowly missing shooting Alastor in the bulls-eye he already had implanted in his forehead because he’d gotten impatient and shot a fraction of a second too soon. For the mistimed shot, Alastor impaled his cane straight through the man. Blood came spurting from Vox’s mouth, a gurgled noise of despair coming out in a low pitiful moan. The gun had been ripped from his hand, held protectively in one of the dark tentacles as his free hand planted against Vox’s shoulder. Pushing him back to pry him free from his cane. Each push ink came out dyed in the light blue blood that coursed through Vox’s body. Each precious second, more and more functions shutting down to converse power for the most important functions.

In a desperate gambit, both of Vox’s claws clamped hard against Alastor’s wrist, digging the claws into the flesh of his wrists searching for the tender tendons. Steam hissed, burning the clothes as they erupted in jets in the back and the waist. The signature blue pinstripe coat smoldered at the edges. Bolts popped and flew, and the once crystal clear picture of Vox’s face warped into fragmented blocks of color. Claws flexed and convulsed like they had become an enemy of the body it was attached to.

Vox was losing the battle, and he could only manage to pierce the skin and create red beads that ran in rivulets down Alastor’s arm. The tapered end of the mic caught against the back, momentarily knocking Vox’s display into a snowstorm of pixelated colors.

It felt… anti-climatic.

Once the rest of the body had been yanked free, metallic innards came out with it, tangled around the length. The cane was dismissed into the ether, leaving the tangled mess to splatter against the floor. The tentacle that held the gun smoothly transferred into his hand. Eight years and this battle had been rather pathetic. But it felt like the man was falling apart the longer the fight went on. More of his minions piled on grabbing hold onto the limbs that refused to obey their master leaving Vox prone on his knees. Whatever reserves lingered in the man were expelled, leaving only arcs of electricity dancing along his frame and at most tickling the shadowy souls that cackled silently.

Click

The barrel of the gun planted itself right between the large red eyes. Would this kill him? Or would he need to place a second shot to the heart? For a moment he considered lifting the barrel, dismantling the man and letting him live another day. But when he lowered the weapon, Vox’s voice rang out in a distorted scream of rage.

“FUCKING END IT ALASTOR! I WON’T STOP UNTIL YOU'RE DEAD! THERE’S NOWHERE IN HELL YOU CAN’T HIDE, NO STONE I WON’T LEAVE UNTURNED. UNLESS YOU WISH TO COWER IN YOUR HOTEL, KNOWING I’M LOOKING FOR YOU. I NEED THIS TO END!” Overlaid with thick static, thick pink stripes ran from the corner of his mouth. Not quite blood, but Alastor could never be sure what it was. The finger on the trigger twitched, putting the slightest pressure knowing that fatal blow would grant them both what it was they needed: Closure.

First Alastor had to erase the sight of that boxy headed fella smiling from edge to edge.

Then he had to forget the way Vox’s face once was lit up like an Andromeda with freckles where dead pixels went out and he always felt so ashamed.

Next he had to bury the way his screen always illuminated a little more when Alastor stepped into the room

Or the way Vox fall asleep at his desk when he became obsessed with his newest film. Where it became all he could talk about for months on end. And Alastor would always give him trouble… but he’d eventually see the show.

Erase those late night conversations over the Chapel Radio when neither of them could sleep.

BANG

It was all a lie.

A momentary sentimentality that was fun while it lasted: Alastor was an Overlord. There was no room for weaknesses. The display of the television warped, half of it shutting off entirely, with a singular red eye remaining, with the pixelation spreading across the screen like a fatal virus.

“I...Kn...e...ew...ew… you wouldn’t -dint-dint he-hesiiiiIiiiiiiiiiita….” The final words faded into nothing but a jarring screech. Sparks popped out of the screen until at last the screen went completely black; body lurching forward as all the strings had at last been cut.

Right, he didn’t hesitate.

The weight of the gun felt impossibly heavy, forcing his hand to swing by his upper thigh clinging on by the tips of his fingers making it feel loose within his hand. The sight of the corpse sitting there completely still made it resemble any other machine. Without a soul, a heart, or anything. Everything Alastor had come to hate about the onward march to cold calculating efficiency. His foot lashed out, embedding itself into the chest of the corpse and kicked it back. It slammed back, limbs tangled and heavy wherever they lay. Joints bent at unnatural angles as if one simply tossed a doll back.

Countless corpses had lined the streets of Hell daily. Many brought down by his own greedy claw but this one looked… wrong. Disturbing in some way he couldn’t put his hand on. A mockery of death, more like a machine turned off to never be turned on again.

A thing.

Vox was a thing.

Athingathingathingathingathingathingathingathingathingathingathing.

Alastor’s whole body lashed out, snatching the corpse by the leg and slung it until it crashed against a wall. It wasn’t a wet splat of flesh, meat, and bones being crushed from pressure but the harsh protest of steel bending and crying out. Sparks of electricity, plumes of smoke, fizzling sockets. It was if every cell in his body refused to believe it, that thing couldn’t be Vox! Before he had realized it, Alastor’s antlers had become twisted and gnarled, heavy upon his head as a fury he couldn’t place coursed through his body. With nobody to lash out onto, his heels dug into the uncompromising concrete as his teeth snapped and grit.

Corpses should be beautiful. They WERE beautiful. And Vox had robbed him the pleasure!

The smooth handle of the cane in his hand smoothly glided against his palm until the pointed end of the cane smacked against the concrete. The jolt of the impact ran all the way up from the tips of his fingers, to his shoulder, and at least sent a shiver to the tip of his ears. Leave him there and surely he’d be left to be looted by scavengers, descending on a free meal. But a God showed no mercy. The wrath he visited upon the world to cleanse its rot was always severe… and it got the job done.

And Alastor was a god.

“Curtains call for you, Old friend. For your sake… I’ll spare you the show. Rest in peace.”

Chapter Text

1 Week Later…

Your absence took with it the color in the world

There was no song that did not contain your laughter

Nor A room where I wouldn’t see your silhouette

Even the rain reminded me of the gentle warmth of your shoulder

What once brought me joy, only made me empty

The alternative was a world without you in it

And I don’t know which is worse

It took a few days for that strange gnawing feeling in Alastor’s chest to go away. He was tempted to return to the battle site several times and dismissed it as a sentimental fancy and ill-befitting for him. A foray into old classical tales was what Alastor thought he needed! Good ol’ Steinbeck had been his current companion. Yet, a few sentences into Of Mice and Men had him flinching and deciding… he needed a new read.

The Count of Monte Cristo! A wonderful tale! Dante was an inspiring figure! Alastor's fingertip had only touched the spine when that strange twist in his gut came back with a vengeance. Monte Cristo was quite an investment to make. Dumas did tend to be wordy.

East of Eden, the magnum opus of Steinbeck couldn't disappoint surely! Only for the taste of Eden to leave a sour taste in his mouth.

A Picture of Dorian Gray! An indisputable classic! Nothing to-- no. Even that novel was thrust back onto the shelf with frustration. Dorian’s final act of evil reminded him far too much of that cursed body crunched against the wall.

Alastor didn’t feel like reading. Not anymore. Work was already there, and while the activities of redemption were… cute; Alastor was not invested. The obligation called a chain had tied his hands, and machinations far beyond anyone's imagination were at work. Alastor had secured a key to guarantee his survival, while his dear friend marched onward to oblivion. A tragic loss of entertainment. May as well indulge while he could.

Dear Charlie was invested in yet another activity. Gathering everyone together doing… well Heaven knows what. Alastor kept to the balcony, out of sight of the others. The odious king was the most involved currently in the middle of flapping his wings like an oaf.

At least Alastor was glad he came. The maniacal grin stretched ever further watching. Charlie immediately pointed at her father screaming, “Duck! Duck!”

“Correct!” Lucifer’s small frame disappeared into a plume of smoke. Like the clown, he was, taking the new shape of the offensive fowl. Charlie was pleased, clapping her hands together in excitement. Angel Dust rose from his place on the couch, urging the king aside with one of his large boots.

“Alright, alright short king! Now me and Husky gonna blow you two out of the water! What’s my card!”

From what Alastor could tell, they were playing Charades. Communicating to your partner without words, using only physical body language would instill a sort of trust and team bonding. Watching Lucifer make a further fool of himself would only be entertaining for so long. He was always a fool, as unchangeable as the blood-red sky of Hell. The lascivious display from the porn star made his skin crawl, and he’d already decided to dismiss himself from this game. The shadows had nearly taken his form when a knock at the hotel door stole his attention. A new guest? Normally he’d let Charlie handle such mundane tasks but Alastor wanted a distraction. Scaring a poor unfortunate soul was exactly what he needed!

“Oh shi--! Door! Door! New guest! Coming! Coming comin--!” Charlie’s energetic voice rang from behind. She was outmatched by Alastor's umbramancy bringing him to the front door in the span of a second. Before the darling demon belle could catch up to him he opened the door with a smile stretched to its absolute limit. Darkened sclera, pupils twitching he thrust his head right through the gap to scare the poor sinner. His hand nearly yanked the door open! To his perplexing surprise… nobody was there. Nothing but the retreating figure of a mailman hopping into a car and driving down the hill.

At the foot of the door was a package. Unremarkable, covered in an unsightly brown package and a large stamp with a garish image of Velvette and Valentino. A letter was attached with a ribbon. The large text indicated it was addressed to The Radio Demon.

“Who is it…?” Charlie asked, having finally caught up. She pushed the door open properly and deflated when nobody was there. Her eyes naturally traveled to the letter in his hand. “A package? Who is it from?”

Alastor materialized a letter opener from the ether. A good wax seal would have been preferable, but the modern age had no appreciation for the beautiful. He fit it beneath the flap and opened it neatly, passing Charlie the envelope with her answer; Velvette.

The letter read:

Thanks for making Valentino and I that much richer in souls!

A little picture of the pig-tailed woman blowing a kiss, probably to taunt him was drawn beside the first incendiary sentence. Alastor’s ears perked, it was cute she thought that would actually make her a threat. He’d let her think that.

Anyway, found this sentimental garbage hidden in the Flat Faced Prince’s room. If he hadn’t already made arrangements before he went with his idiotically stupid last stand with you, we might hold a grudge. But as long as you don’t go near me or Val we’ll consider this Vox being a fucking moron.

So the fight had been premeditated to some degree. Why were you in such a rush to your death old friend? His brows knit, glancing at the package by his feet. It could be a trap.

“What does it say?” Charlie’s innocent voice asked more questions. Alastor gently laid a hand on her back, guiding her toward the hotel.

“Now now, it’s rude to snoop through others' mail you know my dear. I’ll take care of it! I would hate for my personal business to distract you from your oh-so-important job.” It was the most polite way he could tell her to mind her own business. The demon’s neck cracked as he tilted it to the side to a normally impossible angle, squinting his eyes affectionately. The sight was unnerving enough to make Charlie nod with hesitation and walk inside.

Keep it, wipe your ass with it, I don’t care. It’s your garbage to deal with. I hear you love old garbage anyway.

Velvette

Another doodle on the bottom right corner of the page with Velvette making a V sign. The letter was incinerated as soon as Alastor finished, along with the offensive glitter matting the paper. Leaving not a trace to besmirch his beloved suit. The package? He’d take it. For now. He was… bored, and charades weren’t easing his ennui. A snap of his fingers summoned the faithful little shadows to take up his package for him.

Even if Alastor could discreetly move his presence, the mysterious package had invited far too many curious eyes. Sure, they had asked their questions wondering who it was from. Not that he could blame him, his life was exciting and everyone was wishing they could live it too vicariously from him. But Alastor treasured his privacy too much. Angel Dust with the predictable suggestion comment, a little banter that would be cute any other day.

But Alastor couldn’t be impatient and ignored their questions. Once he was out of sight, it became out of mind. Lucifer made his joy at the Radio Demon’s departure as loud as possible, yelling a taunt he felt would surely draw him back.

Since when was a King the court jester as well? It was giving him secondhand embarrassment.

The sanctuary of the swamp was a relief by the time he made his way upstairs. With a familiar hand gesture, Alastor dismissed the shadows and sat down at the table where the package waited for him. He peeled away the paper bag covering, revealing a shoe box underneath. The text was illegible, but it must have been nice at one point. It had a nice sleek black color and a faded gold engraving.

There was a thought that it could be a trap, something ready to spring out or attack him if he acted without caution. The Vee’s weren’t the most trustworthy, and Alastor shouldn’t take the letter for face value. But to show fear over a BOX of all things was… laughable. Some caution, just to be sure. A few tentacles solved the problem, lifting the box out of reach and pulling the top. A few moments of silence listening for any alarming noises. Silence. The box was set in front of him.

Alastor recognized some of the items right away, others not so much. An old photo that was ripped in half long ago. One of the few remaining photos of Alastor, before he’d grown to hate them. A time capsule captured in black and white. Color pictures were already available at the time, but he’d been so finicky much to the imp photographer’s chagrin. That was the day he felt the cold touch of the claw brush against his face and it didn’t make him flinch. Didn’t make him want to rip his skin off or bite off the offending limb.

Vox had kept it this whole time?

“Sentimental fool.” There was a surprising amount of fondness in his tone as he laid the photo out on the table. The next most striking object was a bottle of whiskey. Scarlet Wrath, is his favorite brand. Aged twenty years, if the label was correct and the bottling date was familiar. The false birthday that Alastor once gave to get the man off his back is written next to the seal of quality. They were dead, why would he care so much about a trivial detail like that? Alastor wondered if it was still any good…

The bottle was set aside with the photo. A vinyl sat at the bottom, one of Duke Ellington’s. One that had eluded Alastor, and then Vox had found it with such ease it baffled him. Scattered at the bottom there were newspaper clippings. Reviews of restaurants, clubs, and familiar places. Two more items left, a book without a title and a letter.

Alastor didn’t feel like reading right now so he opened the letter. How ironic! When he had given Charlie so much trouble trying to read him! He’d expected some unsent letter Vox wrote for him or something equally sentimental expecting his death. A will or an attempt to inspire guilt, as if he possessed such a feeling. Maybe what was inside would… get rid of this weird unsettled feeling in his gut. His hopes were crushed when he didn’t recognize the writing.

Wait… crushed?

Did he want closure?

That was ridiculous! Alastor laughed, dismissing it. The sentimentality of all this garbage must be getting to him! Well, the record wasn’t garbage, if it still worked. And the whiskey if it had not gone bad would be a nice way to start the evening. He had half a mind to drink it now! But first-- the letter.

Dear Vincent

Vincent? Who was Vincent?

I don’t know what I did to make you hate me so much. I love you so, so, so damn much you know that! I know I’ve made mistakes but I’m your mom! I raised you and sacrificed so much to give you a good life. After your father left, it was so hard you know. Then for you to pull away, it breaks my heart. I miss you, please just talk to me. I know you’re my son! You may not have the same handsome face but I’m a mother and a mother always knows!

With so much love,

Mom

That answered his question and only gave him so many more. When was this even sent? There was no date. By how aged the paper was, it must be at least a couple decades old. Back when Vox and him were living together. Now that he thought about it, he never did ask about his parents. Alastor never wanted to talk about his father so he avoided it. But this mother sounded like a lovely woman.

Why would he ignore her?

It must be because he was a horrible and wicked man. He was an overlord, that was indisputable. But to be so bad he mistreated his mother?! Alastor would have broken their partnership on the spot if he even suspected as much!

That must be why he never talked about her.

In so little time Alastor’s desk became littered with sentimental items, mementos of sepia-colored days. The letter held the most interest. It brought forth a piece of Vox he had never been aware of. Vox was dead and buried, his soul left to the ether. It wasn’t as if answers would do him any good now.

Still, Alastor sat there with his cheek pressed into his fingers thinking. About this mother, why did Vox keep all this stuff, and why did he throw himself into a battle he must have known he couldn’t win and make arrangements for his death? Vox didn’t seem the suicidal type. Angry, bitter, and he could get sad. But the man was always forward reaching, reaching his hand for that next rung on the ladder. He was never content where he was. He needed to expand his knowledge and his skills. He adapted and learned from Alastor at such a frightening speed it was first flattering and later… admirable even. Alastor would never find a finer apprentice.

It was why he kept him around long past the original duration of their deal.

Vox was a frighteningly capable man, but his weakness was in his insecurities. They were also what always kept him driving to become better, so it may be a double-edged sword in that matter. Now he was gone.

A disturbing bout of melancholy settled over his heart, a rare feeling that while he was in the safety of solitude he could indulge in. Tomorrow, he’d seek out this mother. Find the closure he expected from the letter. Unravel this mystery that bugged him and then he could move on with his life.

Alastor missed him, a little. Only because the idiot had bothered to remember his fake birthday long after he forgot it and returned his favorite record to him.

Chapter Text

There we days I was glad you were gone

The Sisyphean task of earning your approval was over

Yet the very next day I started to miss the rock

I was left adrift, having never lived my life for me before

Who am I? What do I want?

The ratty dump that the return address turned out to be was one of the many rat-infested hotels in the heart of Pentagram City. By the age of the letter, Alastor had thin hope that she was still living there. The place was lopsided and supported by a few haphazard metal beams to keep it from toppling over. By all rights, it should be condemned. The brick walls were covered in graffiti, in writing so illegible that Alastor mistook it to be scribbles on the walls drawn by infants. Likely none could convince him otherwise.

The place was so slimy it made him want to crawl out of his skin only looking at it. Vox was living so well in his high tower and he dared to let his mother live in this… DUMP? Righteous fury burned in Alastor’s breast, he felt betrayed all over again! He could even say he was glad Vox was dead, and thankful he came!

The wallpaper was peeling, with holes in the wall and insulation chewed and devoured by rats. If there were feces on the wall, he could smell it. Buckets to contain leaks rather than addressing the underlying issue, a sour smell from the back where a bathroom sat with the door off its hinges. A curtain was in place instead with a sign on the side that read: Tenants Only.

It was enough to confirm his suspicions put in place for the poor mother whose son abandoned her. And he would make right. It was the least he could do, for failing to impart the proper manners in his failure of an apprentice. If he happened to unravel the strange mystery, all the better!

When he knocked on the door for the apartment manager, he could have predicted the way the door was slammed back in his face. He could find amusement in it even most days! But the fury in his stomach gave him little patience these days. It was a simple thing to slip under the doorway and intrude into the fishy sinner’s home. The inside was even worse than the rest of the hotel.

Trash littered the place everywhere! Garbage piled upon garbage, stinking to the high heavens. A junky cheap TV playing some reality show in the background, playing the most offensive ridiculous sound effects. Uneaten food was moldy and rotten on the table with mail piled so high it toppled over. He had half a mind to burn the place down immediately if he didn’t need information. From the corner of his eyes, he swore he saw a rat run off with half a drumstick crawling with maggots.

“Hi—iiiie! Please! Please! I’ll give you whatever you want, please don’t kill me!” The sinner cowered in the corner, trying to make himself as small as possible. Their slimy scaled body huddled against a mountain of garbage, sending a half-empty can of what once was ravioli falling over and spilling over their clothes staining them in a greenish-orange color. Alastor had half a mind to shove him in it, it was where he belonged. This whole apartment was a biohazard that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

With an elegant touch, he traced his hands over his lapels making slow strides to meet him halfway across the room. As if he stood above this garbage, an existence apart from their squalid little existence. Alastor exaggeratedly rolled his eyes.

“Oh please! I have no intention of killing you! I’m only here for a little… information. If you tell me what I want to know, I will be out of your proverbial hair. If you don’t...” Darkened sclera overtook the demon’s eyes, the lights in the apartment flickering on and off as reality itself seemed to bend at his will. Dark squares flashed over the hapless victim’s eyes watching as the gnashing teeth had become needle-thin and those eyes sunken as caverns.

“W-WHATEVER YOU WANT! IF I KNOW IT, I-I Iiiiii’LL TELL YOU I P-PROMISE!”

Now there was a good lad.

“I need to find this woman. Does she still live in this apartment?” Alastor produced the letter in question, tapping the return address that had what he supposed to be his mother’s name, Lailah Rhodes. It only took fifteen seconds for his face to light up with recognition.

“She does! She lives on the fourth floor, her room is 4C. She might be asleep at this hour, but I promise she still lives here.” There was a palpable relief in his voice, knowing he was spared. The man didn’t even HESITATE to consign one of his tenants to what he could have suspected would be a bloody and horrible death.

Landlords. Would he feel bad breaking his word to kill one? They didn’t count as people, not really. No. He may be worth a pebble in one’s show but Alastor’s word was golden.

“Good man. As thanks for letting me get out of this disgusting domicile posthaste, I will do you the courtesy of not burning it down on my way out.” Not a moment longer was spared, taking to the shadows if only to save his shoes from tracking on filth, popping up on the third floor right outside the one labeled: 4C.

The area was more kept than its neighbors. There were even kitschy decorations on the door and a floor mat that said Welcome. The biggest stand out was the memorial for Vox by the door with a few offerings collected. The picture is the same as one of his many advertisements; seems ol’ ma had nothing of her son to use. There was even a bowl laid out with a sign that read: ‘Every little bit helps!’ A couple of coins sat in the middle of the bowl, likely any bills would be snatched.

Alastor narrowed his eyes with distaste at the memorial. He would never be so tacky as to kick it over, but he had no intentions to add to it. His hatred for the old Picture box might be real, but so was this mother’s love. He rapped on the door and tucked both hands behind his back with full expectations for an answer. Minutes passed, with not even a stir. The Radio Demon was patient, and he was a gentleman first so he continued to wait...and wait…. And wait. One unfortunate demon left their apartment. Comically enough they passed by with their body pressed against the far wall to keep their distance from him.

If he was disturbed by Alastor staring down a door for the past fifteen minutes or so, he was smart enough to not say anything. An hour had passed on the dot. Known only by his strange internal clock and the growing light in the meager sole window. A light whose only purpose was to illuminate how filthy the domicile was. Alastor tried again, and this time he didn’t need to wait as long. A few minutes later a sheep sinner poked her head out dressed only in a thin sundress, her hair pulled back into curlers.

The door slammed hard in his face. Alastor was starting to get tired of this. He tried to knock again, but only a timid voice answered him from the other side of the door.

“What is it that you want?” The terror in her voice was rich, delicious, salivating, and tempting. It stoked the predatory instincts in the Radio Demon whose ears bent forward. Only his mental leash kept him from tearing the door off its hinges to feast.

“My apologies for stopping by unannounced my dear! I would have come sooner and sent notice if I only knew where to find you. You are the dear departed Vincent’s mother, aren’t you?” A shuffling answered Alastor from the other side of the door.

Lailah opened the door, leaving a meager chain as the only defense between her and Alastor. It may as well be nothing.

“You’re Alastor aren’t you? You’re the one who...”

Killed him.

“In self-defense my dear. A regrettable action but at least I can do right for his poor neglected Mother. Won’t you let me in?” Lailah had a moment of hesitation fiddling with the lock. With reluctance, Lailah opened the door and stepped aside to allow him inside. An invitation Alastor was eager to take to get out of the filthy hallway. By some miracle and a lot of work, the inside of Lailah’s apartment was kept nice. There were tasteful knick knacks and decorations but not enough to be busy and garish. It was clean, spotless even and he respected that.

Lailah had the good manners to make her way into the kitchen immediately, to fix him some refreshments he assumed. Now if only--

“Do you prefer tea or coffee, Mr. Radio Demon?” Ahh! Perfection. The smile on his face was completely genuine. Alastor only felt upset that Vox never had the good sense to introduce him to his mother! He couldn’t think of any reason to hide such a pleasant-seeming woman.

“Coffee, please. I was never quite a fan of tea.” Alastor answered, taking in the rest of the surroundings in the building. There were signs of cats with two food bowls tucked by the side but no sign of the creatures themselves. If there were dogs, Alastor was sure he would have heard them. There were… some demerits given when Lailah decided to use a drip machine rather than the good old-fashioned way. Still, he won't complain when he is but a guest.

“So, what brings you to come see me Mr. Radio Demon? As far as I knew, Vincent only ever insisted he wasn’t my son. I figured he never would have mentioned me. He never answered any of my letters.”

Not even once? Why?

“Truthfully, some of his last personal effects were sent to me. He kept at least one of your letters, which is how I found you. I could not help but wonder why he never went to see his dear Mother! And so… here I am.” Alastor sat on one of the kitchen stools, sending his cane into the ether. His chin propped by his two hands cupped together watched Lailah as she finished preparing the coffee.

“Oh… I don’t know Mr. Radio Demon--”

“Please, call me Alastor. Mr. Radio Demon is so wordy, is it not?”

“Alastor. I’ve asked my son so many times. But he never told me why he ignored me like this. My son doesn’t love me. I must be such a TERRIBLE mother.” The dramatic statement was punctuated with a heavy sigh. Such a surprising and emotional display usually did nothing to play on Alastor’s heartstrings, he couldn't care less. But a mother’s plights was the one place he felt weak. Fingertips rapped against the counter as the mounting anger toward a man who was no longer there rose.

“I see, how tragic! And I had taught my apprentice better than that. I had assumed both his parents went to heaven. If I had known! Why, I would have marched that ingrate here weekly until he learned better.” The statement was proudly declared with his hand over his heart. If HIS dear mother was stuck in this hellhole? Why! He’d never leave her side. He’d spoil her with all the joys of hell as it were allowed. But he was far happier that she should remain in heaven, where she belonged.

Lailah brought out two Voxtek brand mugs, filled them, and set a bowl of sugar and a container of creamer on the side for Alastor to use at his leisure. Like any man of class, Alastor preferred his black. Overly sweet things weren’t his favorite. The mug was offensive, but the love she had for her son… endearing.

“Thank you, Alastor. I miss him. His father and I are both down here you know. Of course, his father never wanted Vox in his life, told me to get rid of him when I first got pregnant. But! I ignored him and had him anyway!”

An inspiring tale of a Mother’s love outstripping her vulgar lover. Empowering and sweet.

“Do you happen to know where to find such a man? I would be glad to rehabilitate him.” A sweet smile deceptively crossed Alastor’s lips, with barely hidden malice emanating from the way the lights flickered in and out above them. Lailah flinched, letting out a terrified bleat as her eyes stared in awe at the ceiling. Whoops! Poor dear.

“I-I don’t know. I haven’t tried to find him since I died. He disappeared when Vincent was young. I’m not even sure if I would recognize him anymore.” Each fresh little detail soured the smile on Alastor’s face until the stitches were the only thing left keeping the corner of his mouth upturned.

“And Vincent. What was he like growing up?” Alastor took a sip of the bitter beverage, finding it only lukewarm. Those damned drip machines never managed to get a cup of coffee hot enough. Tch. Lailah’s expression illuminated, clutching the mug close to her chest.

“Oh! Vincent was so, so smart Alastor! And so talented! His teachers were always praising me! Then complained that he was so far ahead of everyone in the same breath. Vincent was even teaching them how to solve the more difficult problems! He was always the Class President! And oh my gosh, he had so many girlfriends I was worried he’d never settle down! I may have had to raise him alone, but he made it easy by being such a capable young man. Most of the time.” Lailah giggled, only now raising the cup to her lips. Once started, she couldn’t seem to stop bragging. Must be where Vox got that big head.

Alastor could see most of that. The fact he was popular with women was a bit of a surprise, but only if he didn’t think about it for too long. There were always women approaching him but he always rejected them. Even Rosie had once joked that if she wasn’t married then cut the sentence off there. Vox was charming, handsome, and capable as Lailah said. And thanks to The Radio Demon’s influence he was becoming powerful. Thankfully he saw enough of his value to not settle for the first woman he saw! Save… one. That memory of how guilty he looked to have a lipstick stain on his screen after his outing still burned clearly in his mind.

That night Alastor went home and couldn’t sleep. Oddly, Vox couldn’t either. There was something oddly… personal about a call in the middle of the night when the rest of the world was awake.

“What was… Vincent like? I mean-- I know you hated him enough to kill him but still had access to his things so...” The mother’s question came out sheepish. Pun intended.

“Much like you described. But he didn’t date, even when he constantly had women fluttering to his side. But there was always this… underlying insecurity in him as well. Like he never felt he was enough. It kept him from getting complacent so I never addressed it. Unlike most men in hell, he was capable of keeping his calm and not acting like such a complete boor. Most of the time. When he got particularly excited, he’d throw these most unsightly tantrums. They became more commonplace toward the end of our partnership.” How could a man have such unreasonable expectations of him, truly?! Alastor felt truly underappreciated.

“Oh my gosh! I know exactly what you’re talking about! Vincent would usually be so well behaved but every once in a while he’d… explode! He’d tell me all these things he'd been bottling up out of nowhere making my head spin! But I knew that wasn’t him and he must be stressed so I never let it bother me for long.” Lailah shook her head, staring at the reflection of her face in the coffee cup.

How unsightly. Alastor was glad he never saw those. Ah! He felt refreshed now, knowing he had no reason to miss the noisy picture box! He could put the ridiculous feeling behind him and sleep feeling good about himself. Alastor rose from the seat, summoning his cane. She’d cleared up this blasted little weight on his chest splendidly!

“Thank you SO much for entertaining me, Ms. Rhodes! But I must be off. I promise I’ll come by again. Even if your son has no intention of taking care of you, I will! We’ll have you living someplace far nicer by the end of the month.”

Tears welled in the poor dear Lamb's eyes. They looked so delicious, he wanted to snap her head off this instant. Ah, the self-control he had to exercise in his day to day.

“What! I! What do you mean?” Lailah’s voice came out as a near whisper.

“I mean! I can’t leave you living in this garbage heap! Why, it would bother me endlessly to think of you living in the same building as a man who has science experiments growing in his living room.” Alastor answered, beaming over the way those tears spilled over.

This was making him hungry.

“I mean! I can’t! I still owe three months on the lease and I can’t afford to break it a--” Hands smacked over her lips, cutting herself off before Alastor could. Not that he didn’t take advantage of the silence, leaning over with the most self-satisfied smile on his face.

“Tut tut! No tears! And I will take care of your lease! I’m sure I can convince your landlord to let you go easy! You’ll be hearing from me.” He wasn’t going to hear a word of complaint. Lailah nodded her head, tears of gratitude spilling from his cheeks.

“Thank you, Alastor. Take care on your way home, and thank you for stopping by.”

“And thank you for such wonderful hospitality, Ms. Rhodes. Good night.”

With a pep in his step, Alastor stepped out the door with his fingers tracing over his lapels. A hum emitted from his throat as he even forgot he could take to the shadows to go home. He was instead over the moon having his hypothesis proven! Vox was a truly abhorrent person! If Vox didn’t want his mother, he’d take her!

Everything was better now.

It was a GOOD thing that Vox was dead now. He'd only rid the world of one more terrible man.

Chapter Text

The hardest thing about losing you

Was accepting the reality I would never see you again

I turned my eyes away from it for months, years

I would startle from my sleep when I heard a voice

Thinking it could be you

I kept your favorite book with the mark still in for years

Because you’d want to finish it when you returned

But you never did… until you were a stranger.

A few days after Alastor met with Lailah, he decided he’d drop by Rosie’s. The old gal was one of his most constant friends in hell, sticking with him through thick and thin. And he absolutely adored her company! They had the same taste in food, similar fashion sense, and most importantly; she was a powerful ally!

But not a threat. Those he couldn’t tolerate.

Cannibal Town was Alastor’s favorite place in all of Pentagram City. There could be much to be said about the domains under the most influential Overlords, but Cannibal was a breath of fresh air. Friendly people, good manners, they dressed nice, and no heartless corporations were lining the streets pushing out the mom-and-pop shops of people who honed their crafts with love. Where a man would still be asked left or right, a butcher and a grocer would have two different fares, and most importantly! It was the best place to buy a radio! None of those blasted ugly screens anywhere in sight!

Rosie’s boutique was bustling as usual. The damsel herself was engaged in a rather incriminating conversation with a male sinner. By the way, she was leaning over and lowering her voice exactly so he’d lean in. He knew she was hunting! It would be such a shame to interrupt. It was too late though, as soon as he spotted him from the crowd he knew there was no convincing her to return to what she was doing. Rosie was good like that. Alastor didn’t always have the same restraint.

“Alastor! Look at you, come to see me twice in one year! A much greater record than the best seven. What’s today's occasion? Should I gather my cannibals for another feast?” The dazzling smile was one of his favorite throughout all of hell, it eased him and made him feel truly comfortable. It was a smile that was as beautiful as it was deadly! He’d seen those teeth cut through bone!

“I’m hurt! You think I can only come to see you because I need something?”

“Am I wrong then?” Rosie asked, not missing even a beat. A playful hand brushed against his shoulder, her smile turning cheeky. Alastor clicked his tongue, walking past her as he tried to keep up the mystery for a moment longer. Helping himself to the back of the store where she kept the kitchen. The gentleman she’d been speaking with looked like a ship left adrift and ignorant that Alastor just spared his life. How sad!

“Well, I do have a favor to ask. But I did truly wish to see you again dear. A lot has happened since the attack you know, I haven’t had time.”

Not entirely true. The days he spent after Vox’s death, Alastor didn’t do much. No matter how many times he chastised himself and understood it all to be pointless, that damned sight of the battered corpse angered him. Reading books, hunting, and even watching the fools at the hotel make mockeries of themselves had lost their spark. It all felt… empty. As if all the joy had been sucked out of his life and nothing could fill it.

“Let me talk to Daisy to take over the store for a bit. And I’ll be right wit’cha. Then you can tell ol’ Rosie what’s up.”

Alastor answered with a silent nod, walking through the boutique until he found what he had been looking for! The ol’ record player. He hit the switch and picked up the needle when he read the title. Duke Ellington's ‘The Duke at Tanglewood’. He dropped the needle, drawing his hand back like he’d seen a ghost. It wasn’t even the same record, only the same artist. Besides, he HATED Vox! Despised him for being such a poor son. Tsk, this problem was worse than he thought. Alastor wished he could bring Vox back to life, if only so he could kill him again for tormenting him beyond the grave like this.

He didn’t have regrets. Especially when they threaten what’s most important: Him.

Even the familiar and lovely sounds of the classic pianist couldn’t bring him comfort. And it was one of his favorites! It came with memories of slow Sunday mornings waking up in his reading chair with a blanket thrown over him. Days of bringing a man spending far too many hours hunched over a desk coffee to beat the long hours. Drunken dances that followed no known rhyme or reason to man, only a feeling and a little more.

Alastor angrily shut the player off and sat back down.

“So, what brings you here today Al? Something to do with that fancy hotel of yours?” Rosie came shuffling back in, ignorant of the poor treatment of her record player. A momentary glance checked for damage and found some relief to know it was in the same condition. Otherwise, the woman would pull his ear until he bought her a new one!

“Have you heard the news? About the Picture box?” Alastor asked.

“Vox?”

Why’d she have to say his name like that? Of course that was who he meant.

“Yes, Vox.”

Rosie frowned, pinching her chin thoughtfully. The look on her face was… oddly gentle.

“Course I heard. My cannibals brought back the body.”

They what?! Alastor’s head snapped so fast his spine nearly twisted into knots. An uncanny crack of air escaping joints resounded with his jerking movement.

“You did a real number on him, didn’t ya? Didn’t feel right you know? Just leaving him out on the street like that. So I buried him.”

Alastor let out a laugh he didn’t know he was holding back. Why do something so… pointless? And why did he feel relieved? Alastor tightened a fist, turning his back to Rosie to hide his face.

“He tried to kill me, Rosie, it was nothing personal. I’d do the same if you came at me with angelic steel. But at least for you, I’d feel bad for it.” Only you. Not the ungrateful picture box, the traitor, the ungrateful son, the walking temper tantrum.

“That why you came by today?” Rosie asked, making her way to the kitchen. After yesterday’s lukewarm mediocre brew; Alastor was looking forward to the master-crafted coffee Rosie made.

“Kind of,” Alastor answered. “Vox has a mother down here, still alive. I met with her, she’s a sweet even if timid dear. Living in a squalid festering pit and in place of her ungrateful son I thought to re-home her someplace decent. Like he should have, decades ago.”

“Al… she’s not your mother,” Rosie interjected. “Isn’t it a little strange to be taking care of the mother of somebody you killed? And since when does guilt make you do anything?”

“It doesn’t. I have… other reasons to be interested in her.” Alastor pinned his ears back, gritting his teeth hard. The smile strained at the edges, held in place by the self-imposed stitches. Fingertips rapped against the arm of his chair- signal buzzing as the cursed woman once again proved herself far too capable of reading him.

Rosie didn’t say anything at first, focusing on grinding the beans. Alastor could tell she was looking at him. Hoping he’d relent and look at her, ask her what was wrong. He decided to pretend he was more interested in one of the many paintings in Rosie’s boutique. One he’d seen hundreds of times before. Vox had recognized the painter immediately, as Alastor recalled. And just like that-- the phantom image of that picture box talking with Rosie about it was almost vivid in his mind’s eye sitting across from him.

With a click of his tongue, he turned his head away and sat down.

“Well… we might have a place for her to live. But, will she be O.K.? You know, with our refined palates and all? I won’t be able to keep her from seeing everyone else enjoying themselves you know. And most sinners outside our town… erm...” Rosie shrugged. It was a good point. Alastor had not asked the mother many questions about herself outside relating to her son. He’d talk to her, but it had to be better than the mess she was living in now.

“I’ll worry about that my dear, don’t fret your pretty little head about it. And what is new with you? Have your cannibals found themselves craving more angelic flesh?” Alastor tried to turn the questions back on her, anything to steer away from Vox. That name was far too present for his liking.

Rosie returned with a tray bearing two coffee mugs, sugar, and a creamer tin for herself. She served her friend before herself and joined him at the table, not quite taking to the change of topic as easily as he did.

“It’s been the same ol’ same ol’ here. Can’t complain. What I want to know is why  Vox would attack you with angelic steel.” The darling Overlord rested her chin on the back of her hand, those void-like eyes never betraying herself as they looked for answers on Alastor’s mask-like smile.

“Because he hated me, Rosie. You must have heard us on the broadcasts. He couldn't even look at me without being brought into hysterics. It’s sad! Laughable, really.” Alastor bragged it was the best and most flattering of attention. Penance for the double-crossing bastard who deserved to boil with his inadequacy for far longer. “I hear he even danced and celebrated when he thought I might be dead when that offensive angel left a wound on me.”

Rosie couldn’t deny that. Hate was common as a sin in hell. And theirs had run so deep they wanted each other dead, even at the risk of their own lives. It was a sobering thought. It meant that she and Alastor could one day end up like those two. The world of Overlords wasn’t a gentle one. Allies were important, but it was still a relationship built on mutual benefit. Once an unshakable bond of trust had forged something stronger than glepnir, but the erosion of time was still stronger.

“Strange to think he’s gone forever now. Feels like only yesterday when he’d sneak over here and we’d share conversations about books, and movies, and he’d take me out for sweets.” Rosie covered her mouth, giggling. That new bit of information had him gripping the handle of the coffee cup tight. He and Rosie were having a private rendezvous?! About what?

“Oh? I had no idea you and Vox were that close! What kind of conversations were you two having that you couldn’t have me around?” He didn’t mean for it to come across so accusatory. But the jealousy he felt stir in him was… ugly. He didn’t even care for the coffee anymore, slamming it on the table. It was history, the two weren’t close anymore if they ever were. And there was nothing wrong with two of his friends getting along. Everything about this ridiculous TV was starting to get on his nerves.

“It had nothing to do with you Alastor. Vox and I were good friends too you know! You know, he memorized Mr. Darcy’s lines from Pride and Prejudice to make me smile on my birthday?” That novel was Rosie’s favorite as he recalled. Not the kind of novel Vox would bother reading either, odd.

“That so? The man was already ready to prove himself a fool to entertain the masses. Entertaining you is a slightly more noble goal.” Alastor forced himself to laugh, to let Rosie know exactly how stupid and embarrassing that was. And what? The man couldn’t make a fool of himself to recite his favorite play.

Rosie sighed, folding her hands together. She sat her pretty chin on her hands, noting the way Alastor’s fingers had begun to dig into his thigh. Mindlessly her spoon continued to spin around her cup of coffee, around and around long after the sugar had melted.

“I thought it was sweet. It was my birthday and he took me anywhere I wanted and carried all my shopping bags. Utterly spoiled me. It was… a wonderful day.” The conviction of her words wobbled toward the end. Truthfully, it was bittersweet.

Alastor felt as though he were free-falling. When was this? Did he forget Rosie’s birthday and Vox had been the one to remember? Or was it when he was far too busy to do anything the day of? The pressure on his thigh eased as he forced himself to appear as nonchalant as always even as those stitches burned hotter than ever.

“I suppose he had his good points, hence why I bothered to keep him around for as long as I had.” Alastor conceded, begrudgingly. He was very good with Rosie. After the death of her husband, Alastor was completely helpless. Grief was not something he could understand, only a foreign concept. Following the instructions of a lesser man who could was a boon in those days. Now he had Husk to fill in that gap.

“He was a remarkable man once. And I believe that’s what you’re grieving now because we both know… that man will never return now. Anyway, we’ve gotten off topic but, once you talk to Vox’s mother I’ll see about finding her a place.”

“Grief?” The word was spoken before Alastor realized it. “Hah! Heaven’s no! Rosie dear, I don’t grieve! I celebrate the loss of life. If there’s anything to grieve, It’s that I could not immortalize him on my show! His screams would have been lovely for my collection.” Alastor was quick to dismiss it, reminding himself yet again. A God did not grieve for his lessers. They were culled, and a natural part of the cycle. Nobody was permanent, save himself.

“If you say so, Al. Now, I should be returning to the store but we should do this again! There’s this new baker in town, you should try her stuff! Mm-mm! I haven't had such a lovely lemon tart since we ate the last guy! Never should have changed the recipe for those shortcakes.” A callback to an unfortunate man who had dared to replace his once-quality ingredients with cheaper ones. The taste was more noticeable than he thought.

Alastor’s grin stretched, grateful for the change in topic. Never indeed!

“Don’t let me be a hindrance to your work then. Before I leave though… mind telling me where this grave is by chance?” Alastor stood, summoning his cane from the ether, and tucking it beneath his arm. He supposed it was only right Alastor gave it at least one visit. Rosie went to all the trouble after all!

“He’s buried in the back with Cyril. With the blue roses on top, can’t miss it.” Blue roses. A curious choice for the bloom, not one he typically would associate with the dead. Not quite like daisies.

“Lovely! Have a good day my dear.” Alastor stepped up to say farewell to his friend, pressing their cheeks together on each side to blow a kiss. Yet she had pushed him by the shoulders to keep them away, a strained smile on her face.

“Oh, Al! Don’t you try to butter me up now! Go on, now!” A flick of her hand beat against his arm, dismissing Alastor. Tsk! If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she was quick to be rid of him! Today must be busier than he thought, he’d be thankful for the time he had.

The garden in the back was one of the rare few in hell. Rosie mostly grew vegetables and herbs, things meant to enhance the dishes the premium cuts of flesh you could purchase in the boutique. But the true attraction of the Garden were the numerous rose beds in brilliant scarlet hues. Originally only Rosie’s husband was buried there, a man by the name of Cyril who died in an extermination decades ago. A sunny chap and honest chap who contrasted well with Rosie, and it was obvious even to him that the two were completely besotted with one another. Even now, little reminders of the man remain such as his favorite mug never used. The ridiculous picture of a sailboat Rosie hated. Even a movie poster he had Vox sign when the man was starting to make a name for himself. Eternity must feel a lot longer knowing you’ll never reunite.

In comparison, Vox’s grave was modest. Headstone plain, with several blue roses left by Rosie in honor of his memory. The soil was still disturbed and the grass hadn't a chance to grow back. It was a strange feeling to stand there, looking at it. There was no spirit to call to, nothing left of Vox in the boundless sphere of fate to speak to. Nothing but a memory. A bitter, painful, detestable memory. The chill of the wind blew past, kicking up the locks of his duo-toned hair. He stared at a patch of earth for what felt like years when in reality it could only have been a couple minutes.

“If I knew what would have happened when I killed you, old pal…”

Then what?

Alastor didn’t even know. He bowed his head, feeling unlike himself. The smile on his face didn’t falter once, but it hurt more than usual. Each thread and needle burned at the corner of his mouth. A long shadow cast behind him as dusk fell over the little town trapped in time; while his own sentient companion stretched against the light to stand before the grave on his left, bereft of it’s usual manic energy. It’s jagged maw twisted into a frown, the shape of his round eyes soft and small. It snatched one of the blooms from the grave, handing it to his master.

“You are an utterly horrible man you know. Leaving behind a mother who loves you. Selfish of you to leave like this. You had Velvette and Valentino, didn’t you? You were so… quick to replace me with the two once I was gone.” While Alastor spent seven years in a constant nightmare, Vox lived the high life. Throwing himself at that odious moth and the brash little doll. The bloom in Alastor's hand began to wither the moment he touched it, the touch of death crawling along it's stem and curling the waxy petals into a blackened husk.

“And the worst crime of all. That you had put your death at my hands! You’re gone! And it’s my fault.” There had been so much passion welling in him, only to sputter out helplessly at the end of his sentence. A fire burned a fire that felt good. Better than whatever this horrible hollow feeling in his chest was called. “Everything you touched is bitter. I can’t read, I can’t listen to music, I can’t even have a chat with Rosie without your horrible little memory permeating everything. You’re everywhere! But you’re not! Like afterimages in the places you once were.”

The fur on his ears bristled, fingers tightened into a shaking fist. Lips curled back, revealing the fluctuating yellow teeth as his signal ebbed and flowed. It was always hot in hell, yet at that moment it felt as if they were burning. The shade’s own expression warmed into an open mouthed screamed with no words, until all the fire had petered out and the numb sensation of emptiness reflected in it’s sorrowful gaze.

“Why did you even hang onto all that stuff if you hate me? If you were going to betray me in the first place, why cling to that old photo? I thought I knew you. But I can’t understand you anymore.” Before he knew it, the man he had come to know over the past seventy years had become a stranger. And these mysteries, these questions would never be answered.

Alastor had been in denial for the past week and a half and fought it every step of the way. But in the face of the grave, saying goodbye to nothing but a clump of dirt and inert metal; he couldn’t fight it anymore. Scattered fragments of the rose were carried away by the acrid Hellish wind, until the man's hand was left empty.

He missed Vox. He knew regret. And Alastor despised it with every fiber of his being.

Chapter Text

65 years ago

Your entrance into my life was a force of nature

Wild, uncontrollable, and terrifying

The moment we locked eyes I knew you’d ruin my life

And that would be the day you left it.

There once was a time when the power struggles of the Overlords were ever-shifting. The powerful culled by a wicked and infamous figure who devoured any who were glut on souls. The weak and fledglings left free as long as their manners weren’t atrocious could live to shiver at the stretching shadow of antlers when they passed through the streets alone. Still many Overlords kept marching on, the allure of power too great to let a single man keep them from climbing that ladder. It only emboldened them to climb faster, so that they could conquer THE Radio Demon and gain that infamy for themselves.

Many territories fell into disarray with the ever shifting hands taking control. Oftentimes only having the same name residing over their area for a few short months before they inevitably disappeared. In those years, Alastor was single minded in his mission: To rid the world of its impurities. And then he met a man, who wished to get rid of all of his.

Des yeux qui font baisser les miens

Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche

Voilà le portrait sans retouches

De l'homme auquel j'appartiens

On the late night shifts, Vox’s only constant companion was the radio. It was a blessing that there was another night owl like him, even if he was a man he’d never met. A single lamp was the only illumination left in the office. With a tight deadline to decide the script for the winning script for the next movie, Vox could feel his frustration mounting script after script. Nothing managed to grab him. Piles upon piles of manuscripts were tossed into the wire waste bin. The endless slush pile only fed into his indecisiveness. There could always be something better.

Quand il me prend dans ses bras

Qu'il me parle tout bas

Je vois la vie en rose

Il me dit des mots d'amour

Unfortunately, Vox was unable to push himself through yet another script. It was regrettable but he had to give up. This last script failed to grab him, but he had run himself to the brink. Was he being too picky? Was it because he’d gone through so much garbage he couldn’t tell what was decent anymore? Those doubts at some point ran through his mind and were pushed away. No, the cream rises to the top. It would have stood out even more! If he couldn’t be excited to have it filmed and produced, he wasn’t going to bother with it.

Des mots de tous les jours

Mais moi, ça me fait quelque chose

Il est entré dans mon cœur

Une grande part de bonheur

Vox didn’t know a single lick of French. But this song was one of his favorites on rotation on the infamous Radio Demon’s broadcasts. Once with a French dictionary and a piece of paper, he tried to scratch out a translation. Without any understanding of the grammar or which word it was supposed to be… it was all in vain. All he knew was that it was a love song.He’d only known love once, or so he thought but he appreciated it all the same as it kept him company while he was shutting down for the night. The radio being the penultimate device before the lights as he exited the building.

A chill wind blew through hell as he stepped out of the office. The street lights only penetrated the pitch black of the night in the small area where they shone. The one closest to the office had been on the fritz lately, flicking in and out.

In and out.

If there was a governor or official to bug about, Vox would have. But in his three years in hell, Vox had quickly learned such social programs were handled by the Overlords in the territory. Grizz ruled this territory, only barely tolerating Vox’s presence. With a few souls under his belt, Vox was only a step above the average sinner. Not even considered an Overlord at this point. Vox still had to play ball with the bigwigs. For now.

When Vox turned around to lock up his office, he picked up an odd frequency. Strange, he was sure he turned off his Radio. It surprised him enough he hesitated to put the key into the door. His instincts told him he should get out of there: Now.

“Late night, Vox?” A gravelly voice called out from behind him, nearly sending Vox out of his shoes. With stiff movements, he turned his head and flashed that showman’s smile hiding the pure panic going through his system. It was Grizz himself. A sinner bearing the resemblance of a bear, and even more terrifying. The large toothy maw gleaned even with the piss poor lighting always constantly going out.

Zzt.

That strange frequency again. It was closer now too. Vox dared not remove his sight from Grizz answering him instead.

“Just finished up here and was about to head home. I’d love to invite you inside and make you a cup of coffee but, our newest employee managed to break the carafe this morning. Hard to find good help these days, am I right?”

A deep grunt answered Vox, ignoring his attempt at a joke. He took a step forward instead. With a harsh gaze in his green eyes, it was clear he was not here for a pleasant conversation. This was bad. Vox couldn’t hope to compete with Grizz and he couldn’t make a quick escape with him blocking his only escape route.

“Rent’s gone up again Vox. Afraid you owe me another ten.” The Overlord pinched his fingers together, stretching his lips back in a terrifying grin.

“You increased the rent last month, and ten? That’s a thirty-three percent increase. Don’t tell me you’re trying to force me out; after everything we’ve been through?” Vox chuckled, assuming a far more friendly air than they ever conceivably had. Grizz took his first step up the stone stairs.

Zt.

The frequency was right on top of them. Vox’s eyes rapidly searched the area, finding a shadow hiding in the flickering lights. A crimson garb of the silhouette revealed itself as the light flashed back on.

Alastor, the Radio Demon in the flesh.

An infamous overlord who had been devouring larger Overlords in the area. The number of times Vox had to pay ‘rent’ twice because he evicted the last man was painfully more than once. The man didn’t even offer refunds! Too small to catch his notice, the stories spoken on the lips of sinners still sent chills down his spine.

It did give him an idea.

“Grizzzz Come on! Somebody as powerful as you, smart, handsome. You can’t possibly see me as a threat. So tell me, what is this really about?” Vox slid his feet to the side. Closer to the lamp by the side of the door. His clawed hand settled on the hood, and his back pressed against the wall as he tried to keep himself as far from Grizz as possible.

“Of course not! But if you can’t pay then I can’t cut you any slack. I’ll need to get somebody who can.” Grizz rolled his large burly shoulders. Large thick claws ticked together, they looked like they could slice through even his metallic frame like butter. Eugh. Not a pleasant thought. Vox laughed nervously, continuing to talk as though that did any good.

“I can get you the money! Give me some time. Tomorrow? How about in the morning after the banks open? I’m not carrying that much on me you know.” The only answer was a sadistic chuckle. Until the bear had stood towering over the sinner with his incredible height punching nearly nine feet.

“Sorry Vox. I might reconsider… if you hand over your souls.” Grizz’s head cocked to the side. “I’ll even reduce your rent. We’ll say… half. Generous, right?”

Oh that MOTHERfucker. That was what he was after all along. It was a drop in the ocean for Grizz, but it was the only reason Vox could walk through the streets at night without feeling like a death sentence.

“Huh! Pretty good deal.” Vox lied, “Alright. Yeah, here I’ll just---” Electricity gathered in his palm as he preemptively turned his head away from the light. Thousands of volts are sent all at once making the bulb so bright, so hot the glass bursts. Pure white light floods the nearby area, blinding the Overlord. Vox didn’t wait for a heartbeat after the glass shattered, shoving past Grizz and racing down the stairs.

“GYAAAH! You piece of SHIT!” A primal roar echoed in Grizz’s throat. He threw his claws into the air, snatching at empty air groping for the shifty sinner who snuck past him. Each heavy footfall was a treacherous step that tripped him and dropped him to all fours. The heavy wet nose took in deep whiffs of air. Vox may have had a head start, but he couldn’t outrun a damn bear! Without looking back he ran as if his life depended on it toward that flickering lamp.

The thin light flickered on and off.

On and off.

On and… he was gone! The Radio Demon had completely disappeared, nowhere to be seen.

Despair coiled in the bottom of Vox’s belly. He was dead. So… fucking dead! It was like his body was moving in slow motion as he turned his head to look at the bear who was already hot on his heels. The look back proved fatal. Like a cliché, he tripped and went sailing for the ground. The light bulb above him shattered, scattering glass everywhere. Falling like rain, reflecting the dying embers of light. And in the space of half a second, he saw it.

A terrifying shadow creature burst from the floor with large antlers, gnashing yellow teeth, and far too many tentacles. They pierced the bear in mid-air, skewering him as if he were nothing but a powerless fly. Vox was frozen to the spot, too stunned for words, for thoughts as he watched this creature of nightmares slam the Overlord to the ground. The shadow stretched and bent over, its jaws tearing apart flesh and bone with ease. Grizz’s screaming was visceral. But that didn’t compare to the sound of snapping bones, masticating jaws, and the tearing of muscles.

A bloody claw stretched out, barely brushing against the bottom of Vox’s shoe as in the man’s dying rasp he begged for aid-- mercy. Anything to make the pain go away. The once vibrant and deadly green eyes faded into pale shades, black bile oozing from the corner of his jaw.

The rumors didn’t do Alastor justice. The radio broadcasts did not give the full breadth of this man’s sadism. His hunger. There was nothing left of Grizz once he was done. Save for a pile of unidentifiable meat, scattered organs that must not be to his palette, a torn rib cage, and an empty skull. The creature itself, as he couldn’t even call it anything that once was human, had its limbs bent in twisted angles all to keep himself low to the ground. Sunken hollows for eyes, twisting dials for eyes, and a pair of branching antlers that could pierce through his half-mechanical chassis like butter.

The creature made eye contact with Vox and for a split second, he felt as if he’d been pulled into another world. A shadowed world, empty save for himself and this monstrous creature. Left with a fate of either madness from solitude or to throw himself into the jaws of a beast.

The once massive shadow shrank. In its place, the lone figure of a gentleman dressed in red picked up the skull and cleaned it off as if  it were only now filthy. Traces of blood ran down his face, something that he was quick to wipe off with his thumb. It was like he didn’t even notice or care that Vox was there, watching him the entire time. But when he turned to look at him, the fear immediately kept him rooted to the spot. His legs were useless. Running was useless anyway, he could tell. There was a world of difference between Grizz and the Radio Demon. He could outsmart that idiot, and it worked. If he was to live-- it was only because Alastor decided it.

A trail of bloody hoofprints was left in the wake of his footsteps in Alastor’s casual approach. It was completely dark, but the faint glow from his eyes and smile banished the darkness.

“And here I thought you would have been smart enough to run.” The voice, layered with so much static was unmistakable. The same one he heard on the radio night after night, keeping him company into the early hours of the morning. He must go hunting after his broadcasts.

Vox smiled. He smiled because he was terrified out of his wits. He smiled because he didn’t know what else to do whenever he was facing a life-ending threat. He smiled because that was his greatest shield. “You didn’t kill me when you killed Grizz. Which means you have some interest in me. If I run now, I’ll only attract the hunter in you. Which means I need to be amusing enough that you want me alive.” Vox dug deep, drawing on a lifetime of experience playing a professional bullshitter.

Thankfully! Alastor was the kind of man to humor the struggles of a doomed man. Even if he failed, he’d get a good bit of entertainment out of that before he devoured him.

“Is that so? Very clever! I was watching you know, thought I’d get to watch him tear you apart before I got to him! Aha! I do so love dinner and a show. You robbed me of my entertainment so what can you do for me, my good man?” Alastor bent forward, speaking so animatedly you might not think there was an incredible bloodlust emanating from him. But Vox could sense it. As good as he was at bullshitting, Vox was even better at reading people. All the subtle tells that let him know of dangers and shifting moods in the people around him. A handy tool for negotiations!

“Funny you should mention a show!” Vox began with a playful wink, pointing toward the studio behind them. “It so happens that I run a channel myself with all kinds of picture shows! Are you a fan of movies? It doesn’t air for another month but we just finished editing the final cut of our Faust.”

Alastor tilted his head. There was no shift in his face-- He was getting bored. Vox quickly swapped tracks.

“Never mind that! Impersonations! I’ve got one of Grizz exactly… a couple minutes ago.” There was a click as though something was moving around in that large head of his. To Alastor’s surprise, the same screams of the bear only moments earlier played from Vox’s scream in a TV filter. His ears rose, far more entertained. Vox even managed to win a sadistic smile, then a laugh that rang on and on and on. Black inky tears crested from the corners of his eyes, needing to gasp for air when the joke had run its course.

“Impressive! However, a single scream won’t save your life, picture box.” Alastor stuck out his cane, tipping the heavy head of the sinner back to look up at him. Vox had been struggling too much trying to preserve his hide to look at him before. But now that he had a good look at him? He was… fucking gorgeous. Deadly. Elegant. A night with him probably didn’t go painless but fuck, it might be worth it if he made it out with all his limbs intact.

“Not so easy huh?” Vox replied, putting on a practiced frown. He wasn’t sad, but still utterly terrified. He was fighting for time to think, racking his brain for any other talents he could draw on. “I can sing! I’m pretty decent at it. What do you say?”

“Hmm… alright. But if I hate it I’m killing you on the spot. Do choose wisely.” Alastor tilted his head to the side, his large fuzzy ears flopping with it. Nervous laughter spilled loose from Vox, feeling the mounting pressure. Sing or die.

“I hear this song on your radio station all the time so I’ve got a-- pretty good feeling you’ll like it.” Just then, Alastor’s mood improved with the permanent grin on his face stretching a little further. Flattery worked on him. Good, Vox can work with that. He cleared his throat, hoping his body wouldn’t fail him now and make his voice crack halfway. It would be a death sentence!

“We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when

But I know we’ll meet again, some sunny day.

Keep smiling through, just like you always do

Till’ the blue skies drive the dark clouds away.”

The recognition on Alastor’s face was immediate. His ears bent forward, eager to hear Vox sing every note. That was one thing he could thank his mama for, it was his voice! He sang like his life depended on it, and it did!

“So will you please say hello to the folks that I know

Tell them I won’t be long.

They’ll be happy to know that you as you saw me go,

I was singing this song

We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when

But I know WHEEL--”

As Vox feared, his voice cracked on the chorus. His metallic hand slapped against his throat. Alastor's eyes were shut closed in content. The silence had him opening his eyes looking at him with a puzzled expectation. Vox was… still alive. He was watching, like he wanted him to continue. Ok! Here goes again.

But I know we’ll meet again, some sunny day.

The rest of the song to his immense relief went off without a hitch, and when he dropped off from that final note Alastor’s whole face lit up. He was pleased. It would be cute if he wasn’t so damn terrifying. To Vox’s surprise, he extended a hand. Vox was reluctant at first. Yet, didn’t want to shirk away his goodwill after he managed to pry it out of death’s jaws. With a swift tug, he was brought to his feet.

“Good show! That song is a bit out of my time, but I am still quite fond of it. You say you heard it on my radio broadcast?”

Before he even had a chance he was already turning the conversation to his show. Vox felt a growing confidence he might get out of this unscathed yet.

“I’m always working late, hearing you talk on the show helps make the office feel a little less… lonely. To hear somebody talking. It helps me enjoy the music you put on. The last song tonight was La Vie en Rose. One of my favorites.”

Alastor hummed, reaching out again with his cane to turn his head. Vox didn’t quite like having the object smack him in the face so Alastor could… gawp at him. He did his best to grin and bear it, shutting his eyes when the cane tapped against his face. Tink tink.

“Ow- I can feel that.”

“Fascinating! I’ve never seen such a thing. A picture box for a head. They were only ever in the homes of fat cats in my time, it seems the little fad hasn’t died out yet.” Again with the touching and not looking, the cane batted against the top of his head with a thud and slid one antennae to the side. Immediately the TV demon’s face disappeared with a distorted channel playing some late-night broadcast. With the loss of his eyes and mouth, Vox pitifully reached his hands against the top of the frame trying to gain back his antennae. Alastor had other plans. He dismissed the cane and took hold of both, yanking them sending a fresh new jolt of pain through his body.

“Gkhzzbhtrrt---kkhhh---”

Each tug and adjustment caused the channel to change. Becoming clearer or more distorted, reverting to the default two-channel or the input channel with multicolor blocks. Normally Alastor despised touching others, but touching this fella’s antennae… didn’t bother him so much. Same with his hand. The faint electricity coursing through his body felt exhilarating. The strength of his radio signals became enhanced like the sinner was an… amplifier of sorts. Alastor snatched away his hands, curling him behind his back. Vox had only managed to bring his face back when Alastor said,

“You’ve successfully won your life Picture Box! This was far more entertaining than watching that man tear you apart! And I’d hate to lose such a faithful fan besides! La Vie en Rose, was it? Quite a lovely and sentimental piece isn’t it? Do you speak French?”

“The extent of my French is Bonjour and Merci.”

“Ah, more’s the pity. Maybe next time I’ll prepare a translation for my audience. Anyway, I shan’t take up any more of your time.”Alastor took a bow and spun on his heel. He only got two steps away when Vox found himself calling out for him.

“Wait---”

Rather than turn his head around like a normal person, Alastor’s head snapped a full ninety degrees like a door with an audible crack. Vox clenched his ass cheeks tight, smacking his arm with a claw to dig his hardened points in to ground himself. Their teeth clenched tight so hard he feared they might shatter. After a mental countdown, he spoke.

“What do you plan to do with this territory…?”

Alastor’s smile faltered. Was he disappointed?

“Nothing my dear. It’s yours for the taking if you like. So long as you don’t become a brute about it, you won’t see my face again.” Already he was ready to dismiss Vox, waving his hand to encourage him to drop the subject. He had his life, and he ought to treasure it.

“Why does it matter if I’m a brute? I heard you only go after the most powerful Overlords. Is there some other criteria?”

Oho! This one was curious. The rest of the Overlord’s body spun around to face him. The cane was tossed aside as he gesticulated to the air; all to enhance the appeal of his mystique.

“Perhaps, there’s a method to my madness. But it’s nothing to worry your pretty head about darling.” A tap of his hand batted against the top of Vox’s head, condescending to him. Vox shied his head away from the gesture, not letting him get away that easily.

“If you told me, I could help you locate more of them.”

“I don’t need help darling! Even if I tell you, what do you hope to get out of it?” Alastor smirked, his gaze almost pitying for the poor man who was getting himself involved in matters he had no business getting into.

“You don’t care about this territory, right? I don’t have the power to take over or maintain it once I do. More powerful Overlords would crush me before the week was out. Help me until I am capable of holding it on my own. In return, I’ll help you clean the street of the filth you’ve been routinely sweeping off the streets. People fear you, you’re The Radio Demon that everyone flinches from when they see them. But I can get information, talk to people, heck you can even use me as bait! As you can see I know how to get out of a bad situation. And… I don’t seem to be a company that you hate to have around.”

The static in the air crackled. Alastor didn’t say anything, only the intermittent glow of his bright red eyes answered him. He was so completely still it was like he’d become a scarecrow. Completely lifeless. Vox was about ready to repeat himself when he became animated again stretching out his hand.

“Aha! I do like your company picture box! Very well, let’s shake on it.”

For the second time, Vox’s cold metallic hand met with Alastor’s, which immediately clamped around his hand. A rush of green light and power filled the air around them, casting an updraft that rustled their clothing. Alastor’s appearance turned more frightening. The branches of his antlers extended, a large black X formed on his forehead, and stitches flashed around the corners of his mouth. Vox could only imagine his demonic form revealing itself in turn to Alastor. With a swelling of confidence, Vox answered.

“It’s a deal! By the way, my name is Vox!”

“Alastor, a pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure!”

Chapter Text

She was the right person

But it was the wrong time

We will never know what could have been

Because we found our soulmates

Alastor was good on his word. The territory which would have normally fallen into a free-for-all brawl had instead turned into a honeypot where Alastor feasted for days. After three overlords disappeared in succession Vox took over effortlessly. The crime in the streets cleared up, and the exploitative rent was reduced to an amount that let people breathe and became gravy in Vox’s coffers. That money was quickly invested in his studio for better equipment, more space, and more staff. But Vox didn’t rest on his laurels, with Alastor taking the first and immediate step he couldn’t let himself fall behind and have Alastor regret his deal. Vox wouldn’t survive it.

Alastor took Grizz’s soul, but all the minor souls had fallen to Vox making him almost twice as powerful overnight. It all took one night, and his afterlife had been flipped on its head. Those extra souls in turn became his eyes and ears. He delegated people to haunt bars and taverns in different territories. And Vox hit the most valuable source of information… he spoke to the homeless. The invisible people of society. For some money, they would be happy to tell him anything and their prices were far cheaper than your usual information brokers.

Those who were lucid enough and showed a bit of wit, he even hired. There were some spare apartments and he could give them a grace period for a few months while they got on their feet. That inspired loyalty. The first good bit of information came by the name of an Overlord named Vespera. An Overlord of Cosmetics, she had been testing her products on her souls and making them terribly sick. Many died, but since they regenerated Vespera found it  a noble sacrifice for the sake of beauty. Her territory was in the southeastern part of the pentagram, covering a sizable area. 

Vox ventured into the territory following that very lead. He needed to verify how accurate it was with his own two eyes, and solidify his first impression as strongly as possible. Chances are, he wouldn’t get a chance for a second. Vespera’s boutique was the most flashy thing in the entire district, he saw the spotlights before he even saw the building. Large fountains, artificial waterfalls, Roman columns. It screamed of excess. The brand new coffee maker in Vox’s office which felt like a luxury was something he could laugh about now.

At the foot of a step, he found a woman crouched on the curb with her head buried in her hands. A scarlet red dress dazzling with rhinestones, black heels, hair like spun starlight decorated with a rose accessory, and her skin so pale he could only compare it to marble. She didn’t look like your average sinner, maybe a movie star or a woman who would ruin your life forever and you’d thank her for it.

Her head immediately whipped around and to his shock, her eye sockets were completely empty. Black streaks ran down from the hollow of her eyes and stained her cheeks. Once you got past how scary her razor-sharp smile was, or the hollows of her eyes… she was angelically beautiful. In the three years Vox had spent in Hell he had not given much attention to relationships or lust. The dysphoria with his body was so intense he could barely stand to look at himself naked in the mirror, much less let anyone else see it.

But the sight of this poor woman? The picture-perfect image of a damsel in distress waiting for a hero to sweep her off her feet. It reminded him of his darling Kaguya, back when she still held color in her cheeks, sang songs of her homeland, and greeted him every day without fail. Until the camps took her– then illness. Something to beat back the eternal chill of his mechanical body.

“Are you--- do you need some help?” Vox forced the words out. The slow blink of her eyes was like an arrow shooting straight through his heart like a cupid’s arrow. Lucifer help him!

“My dear husband’s been torn to shreds! We were going to go out tonight for the first time in months but Vespera—” The snow-haired woman dropped her face into her hands again, shoulders trembling as pitiful sobs came out muffled by her palms.

And thus ended Vox’s whirlwind romance. Snuffed before it began.

And a rather dramatic introduction he’d say. Vox joined the woman by the curb, setting his hands on his knees. Even if he had to give up on his dream, she was a clue for his original goal.

“A real loss too, beautiful lady like you? If he still has eyes to see I’m sure he’d be pulling himself back together with his head turned the wrong way in such a rush to return to you.” Vox spoke reassuringly. The woman in question blinked the tears away, raising her pretty face away from her snow-white hands. It was barely there, but he saw a smile forming at the corner of her lips.

“Cyril would. He was always a little unawares.”

“I don’t know. I’d give the man a break, it’s hard to operate at one hundred when you have such a pretty wife by your side.”

“Pfft! Are you trying to console me or flirt with me, mister?! You’re awful!” The damsel gently smacked his shoulder, finding it in her at last to laugh. Vox grinned along with her, turning his shoulder away like he’d suffered far worse than he did.

“Ooh ow! I deserve that! Who says I’m not doing both? I can stop though, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

The woman tilted her head, leaning her cheek into her open palm. “Hmm… I suppose it’s alright. Long as your hands keep to yourself, mister. I have a bit of an appetite for wandering hands y’see.” The flash of her razor-sharp teeth was equal bits intimidating as it was beautiful.

“Deal! Might be a little tough for your palette though.” Vox flexed one of his clawed hands, earning an open mouth awed look from the cannibal.

“Wow! Now ain’t that something! Won’t stop me from trying though, so no funny business mista. So, what brings you over to talk to a stranger? Don’t tell me this is your game plan to pick up women. Names Rosie, by the way.”

“Vox. I’d offer my hand to shake but...” The same metallic hand went limp and recoiled. “I’m under oath of my word. No hands on Rosie. To be honest, I’m trying to learn more about the Overlord who owns the Boutique behind us. Since you were sitting in front of it I thought you might know a couple things. But when I saw how distraught you were well...” Vox shrugged. Rosie answered with another light shove.

“Can’t leave a damsel in distress, can you? That’s dangerous in Hell honey. But yeah, I know Vespera. She’s been transforming this town for the past couple of years. This used t’be Cannibal Town but when the previous Overlord was exterminated… well she came in. One who tore my husband apart in fact.”

Vox leaned forward. That sounded like an Overlord acting out of line, perfect. It felt bad to feel glad she was as horrible as he expected. But Vox needed to earn his keep!

“Do you know why? Not that it’s justified, but it’ll help my… uh investigation.”

“What are you? A reporter or something? You look like one Mister Box.” Rosie lofted a brow, leaning in as though she might be able to smell the newspaper ink off him. A light dark blue tinge of color marked underneath Vox’s eyes where his cheeks would be. Vox flinched. He could talk the talk, nobody said walking the walk here. Unfortunately for Vox, Rosie was the kind of woman who was exactly as perceptive as he was in sussing people out. His mask wouldn’t take long for her to take off.

“No, I actually run a TV studio. Channel 66! We’re… still relatively new but I’ve been making movies based on popular films back when I was alive to bring to the citizens of Hell. You should tune in if you like picture shows.” Ahh, he couldn’t resist selling his station when given the chance, with that ever-present showman’s smile. “That is to say! I am here as a part of a deal with another demon. I can’t share the details, but… you can trust me when I say that it would be in you and your husband’s good interest.”

Rosie stared into Vox’s eyes long and hard. It was the easiest way to see if somebody was lying, most couldn’t look you in the eye when they were. At least, this Mr. Vox was sure it was in her and her husband's best interest. She had not gotten to know the man for more than a brief conversation but she didn’t think he was a bad guy. He didn’t have to comfort her and he didn’t try to push her boundaries when he learned she was married. It was the bare minimum, a rare thing in hell. Rosie smoothed out her dress and picked herself up from the curb.

“Alright, Mr. Box. There’s a little cafe down the street. Buy me a cup of tea and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. If I know it anyway.”

Vox jumped to his feet, correcting her. 

“Vox, with a V. Deal!”

This late into the evening most cafes weren’t open, but this one seemed to be open for the night owls of Cannibal Town. A bat-like sinner served Rosie her tea, but Vox was content with the black coffee. He had some expectations that it’d be a long night anyway. The place was rather old fashioned, even for Hell. It had a kind of feel of Victorian England if Vox were to guess. Not that he was too familiar with it beyond the fact that it was a popular setting for fiction targeted toward women.

Not that Vox disliked it. It was hard to complain having such a classy cafe with such a classy woman for company. He almost felt ridiculous and underdressed in his turtleneck sweater and jacket. Vox tried to hide as much of his body as possible within his clothes so that all people could see were his hands and his head. Rosie was the first to break the silence as he daintily stirred her sugar into her tea.

“So Mr. Vox, you wanted to know about Vespera. Gal moved into our territory a few years ago like I said. Everything was well and good at first. But then she’d take the nails that stuck out and drag them into that boutique of hers. Since none of us were the odd ones out we shrugged and let it go. Long as we behaved, we could enjoy our peaceful little town.” A heavy air fell over Rosie, turning the cup over in her hands.

“Then it was anyone who didn’t approve of her taking away people. Doing… experiments is all we know in there. We don’t think they’re dead, but they aren’t walking out. Cyril and I handle marketing and selling the product so at the very least we always felt like we’d be O.K. Now that he’s all torn up into pieces… I dunno. She might keep him in that lab or hers… and I’ll never see him again.”

Rosie sniffled, brushing her alabaster skin over her hollow eye to banish the tears that threatened to spill. Vox found himself not feeling much of an appetite for coffee anymore. That sounded incriminating enough. But there was still no physical proof. Rosie might have it though, if he had worked so closely with Vespera. He took a deep breath.

“Do you have any documentation of who she takes and why? Records of the kind of experiments she’s conducting?”

Rosie shook her head. 

“Fraid’ not. Not my department. Figure anything related to that in the boutique itself. I thought yas wasn’t a reporter anyway.”

“You’re right.” Vox agreed with a wink. “Which is why I can do things a reporter wouldn’t. Don’t worry, your husband will be free before long Rosie.” With the charming smile on Vox’s face, you’d think he had full confidence in his ability. But Rosie could tell it was a bluff, one as much as it was for him as it was for her. There was a hesitation as her fingertip traced the cup. It’d be dangerous to encourage this bravado, this kind but a stupid stranger might get put into a horrible situation trying to play hero. In the end, she decided to let him have this.

“My hero! At least you would be if you weren’t doing this for personal reasons. But this is Hell and I’m willing to take any reason for a man to be a hero if it benefits me.” Rosie laughed. Vox laughed along with her sans the enthusiasm. She was right. Saving her husband was a byproduct, Alastor would be the one doing all the work anyway.

“Do you know when Vespera will be out of her boutique next by any chance…?”

Rosie nearly spat her tea, pressing a gloved hand over her lips to stop herself from that inelegant act. Oh no, this sweet man was going to be dismantled. Rosie was going to miss him.

 “Are you thinking of infiltrating darling? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be asking some questions. I won’t be going anywhere I shouldn’t be.” Vox promised her, and he did mean it. Rosie shrank back into her chair. In the end, she had no leg in this rat race. As luck had it, he had an opportunity coming up in only a couple days.

“The day after tomorrow, Vespera meets with me at the warehouse for a couple of hours. She’s supposed to meet with me at 2:15 and she usually stays for an hour. I can maaaaybe hold her for an extra fifteen minutes or so if I can get her to have tea with me. But don’t count on it.”

“I won’t. That’ll be plenty, thank you, Miss Rosie! That will be perfect, it gives me time to make preparations.” Vox put down some cash for the coffee and tea, enough to cover a tip. He was already rising to his feet with anticipation. If anything, Rosie had to say the fella was motivated. Usually, demons put under deals at least looked under obligation.

“Leaving already Mr. Vox? But you just got here.” For all his flirting earlier, she was almost sure he’d at least try to stick around a little bit. Vox was halfway through the motion of leaving when he remembered his manners. The electronic brows rose up to the top of his frame. Shoot, right, that was rude of him! He made to sit back down, folding his claws on one another.

“Sorry! I’m used to leaving once the purpose of the meeting is over. But--” Vox dug a cyan claw into his collar, tugging on it attempting to beat back the embarrassment crossing over his digital face. It was so genuine, so adorable that Rosie couldn’t help but break out into laughter. It only made him more flustered and more blue in the face? This sinner’s body was so.. odd!

“I’m so sorry dear! I’m not laughing at you! I promise. I hadn’t expected you to call this a meeting of all things! You’re a business-oriented kind of fella, aren’t you? Don’t spend a lot of time around women?” Rosie leaned forward, suggestively raising her brows. Erk.

“I actually used to be popular with women. When I was alive.” Vox admitted, tapping his foot on the ground. “Turns out, there aren’t many women attracted to big blue square heads.” Vox’s screen tilted to the side. Big surprise he was sure. “Or maybe they’re too nervous to hold my hand.”

Shink.

A quick snap of his fingers shut made an ominous clinking noise of metal grinding against metal. The pointed ends looked as though they could tear a man apart. Even if Vox’s preferred mode of self-defense was the large electrical charge running through his body. Rosie understood he was trying to have humor in a self-deprecating way. So she did smile but the belle could tell it was something he was pretty sensitive about.

“A shame. You seem like a nice enough fella. I’m sure if you got to know a gal a little better and took things slow she’d look past all ya… quirks and fancy doodads. Love is blind you know.” Rosie spoke, and with the lovelorn look on her face, Vox suspected she was talking about this husband of hers. When he got to see him put together he’d see how much faith he put in that statement. It sounded petty, but that usually meant somebody might be a little homely. Not have a fucking television for a head.

“Please Rosie, this is Hell. What you have with your husband is the exception, not the norm. If I want a woman, then there’s only one true path. I need to become richer and more powerful.” Vox countered, shaking his head to put such childish dreams to rest. He may have been distracted when he first saw Rosie, but he would have sobered up eventually.

“Vox… that isn’t love.”

“Sure it is.” Vox argued. “People love you for what you can do or provide for them. They love you because you bring joy into their life. You make things easier or you make up for some shortcoming. At its core, love is still transactional. Putting it in clear and easy terms of who gains what is superior than what people try to boil down to feelings.”

It felt like all the winds had been taken from Rosie’s sails. The tea she drank tasted too bitter, and a measure of pity welled up deep in her chest. Her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth as she set the cup back on the saucer, her gloved fingers weaving together.

“If you truly feel that way Mr. Vox, I pity you. One day… one day you’ll find yourself in love with somebody and it will feel like madness. Even if it takes everything from you and leaves you hollow and raw, you’ll thank them for it as much as you despise them. You might even choose to let it destroy you a second time.”

Laughter escaped in puffed and static laced breaths. Lingering over the bend, Vox shook his head in obvious disbelief. Almost pity reflected in those digital eyes.

“That’s just a bunch of chemicals Rosie. Don’t get me wrong, what you seem to have with your husband is cute! Truly, but I have never been the kind of man to go insane over a woman. I’ll get in touch with you later.” With a wave of his hand, Vox left the coffee shop with the click of the door announcing his exit.

“Famous last words, mister.”

Chapter Text

A man’s greatest obstacle is themselves.

Once I started telling myself I could

Everything became possible

And I found that potential in the reflection of your eyes

Vox was given a simple set of instructions if he ever wanted to get in contact with Alastor. He was to send him a code on his beeper and leave a letter at his favorite bar: The Grinning Bobcat. After scoping out Cannibal Town, that’s exactly what he did the next day. Detailing the information he’d gathered, his plans to find more concrete evidence tomorrow afternoon, and a report of the lack of activity in his territory. It was only through these indirect ways of communicating that Vox ever communicated with him. Seldomly, Alastor would send a code telling him to pick up a letter instead. They were warnings to not be in a certain area that night or he would kill him.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Vox had not seen hide nor hair of the infamous Radio Demon since. A fact he tried to not be too disappointed over, with nothing to show for results he couldn’t blame him. Still the man’s presence in the district was unmistakable. That odd signal would occasionally brush at the edge of his consciousness, and he’d hear a trill or a clamour that sent joy or dread through him.

With some vain hope he’d see Alastor again, Vox ordered a shot of brandy after he handed off the letter. He figured if he waited for an hour or two, maybe he’d get lucky. It was a slow night thankfully, with most of the customers paired off or quietly nursing their own poison of choice. The bartender himself was exactly the type Alastor was preferential toward: Bold and lacking curiosity. A badger with a temperament to match, be you Overlord or a fresh sinner he’d treat you the same. Vox had seen it first hand when he pulled over an Overlord who tried getting out of his tab.

Scars and burns marked his body showing the tell-tale signs of scuffles he’d endured with these men who should logistically be above him but pure vitriol and thick skin got him through most scrapes and the Overlords like Alastor kept the smarter ones away. A good hooch slinger was worth its weight in gold.

The burn of  brandy felt pleasant going down, sending tendrils of warmth that fought off the pervading chill of his inorganic body. The quiet night gave him time to reminisce, think back to that fateful night. When Vox initially stopped Alastor that night to make a deal, he wasn’t intending on putting himself in debt with the Radio Demon. It was even more foolish than that– he was simply curious about him. He wasn’t stupid enough to think Alastor wanted to be friends, much less anything more. Still, Vox was drawn in. Alastor was a mystery he wanted to unravel and he had a key to figure him out. He could be the first and only to ever know this terrifying monster who feasted on bones and flesh with glee.

Vox had a weakness for men equal to his weakness for women. He’d never been in denial of it, but he understood the world hated men who laid with men. Like a good Christian man he kept to women and courted her as was proper. Vox was well aware there was a physical attraction at play there as well. There was no intent to kiss or touch him, unless he could get away with it. No… Alastor was everything he wasn’t. Confident, powerful, commanded respect without trying, something great. Vox only ever pretended to be great, and he was good at it. Watching his example... Maybe he too could be great.

Without realizing it, Vox sighed for the tenth time that night. An hour passed with no sign. He’d seen a few vaguely familiar faces in the bar but nobody Vox could call a friend. He had contemplated maybe trying his luck to go home with somebody for the night, then dismissed the idea.The thought of trying to kiss anyone with his unorthodox face brought up a heat of embarrassment every time. When you felt uncomfortable in your own skin, it was hard to enjoy sex. Then there was the issue of accidentally tearing somebody up with his hands making him limited with what he could do. Looking at what he couldn’t have only made him feel worse.

With his screen against the counter, he clutched the glass. The loneliness was suffocating when he didn’t drive himself into a corner working. It was a hole that was never full. No matter how many women and women he had under him when he still drew breath. No matter how high his career flew. No matter how many people praised him! It never felt… genuine. LIke words from sycophants saying whatever they needed so he would like them. He had a pretty face and everyone loved him. Now he had no face, and he was treated like a freak. 

A pretty red demon was a nice distraction. A pretty red demon gave him a thrill of teeth snapping at his heels and an impossible set of standards he could never meet. If a pretty red demon approved of him, he would KNOW that he was worth something.

“Vincent…?” A sheepish voice called his name. Not his demon name, his human name. It was a name that immediately sent a chill to his system and stole his breath away. Dread. Icy cold dread settled in his gut. His claws gripped the glass a little stronger hoping the voice would leave.

“Vincent?” Vox continued to ignore it. Then a little finger poked at his shoulder. He whipped his head up, finding himself face to face with a sheep sinner. He’d recognize his mother’s face anywhere, changed or not. It came incredibly natural to him as he adopted the persona of a man who didn’t recognize her. An apologetic smile curving at the edges of his monochrome screen.

“Sorry ma’am. My name is Vox. You must have me mistaken for somebody else.”

The sheep brought a fist to her lips, staring hard into his digital face. There was nothing there, nothing of his old face there. Nor his body. She couldn’t possibly know. The name change was intentional, his voice was different. How the hell did she know? He couldn’t meet her eyes, turning his head to knock back his glass of brandy.

“I know it’s you, Vincent. I’m your mother, even if I was blind I’d know it’s you. Maybe I wasn’t the best mother to you when I was alive, but that’s no reason to pretend you don’t know who I am. I made mistakes, so did you. That’s why we’re down here. So– just talk to me.”

Vox swallowed down the last of his bitter brew. Throwing a couple dollars down to pay for the drink and then some. 

“I don’t know who you are, lady.”

Vox insisted, hopping out of his stool and leaving with a desperate urgency. The bartender grunted, and this was the exact moment that Vox truly appreciated a bartender like him. The next time he dropped off a letter, he wouldn’t say a word. The tip he collected was silently taken and he didn’t even care if he lost the chance to say thank you. Money was good enough.

Unfortunately hot on his heels the sheep kept following him. Even if he walked faster, she would only match his pace. The sound of her hooves behind him clicking louder and louder across the concrete following him around an entire four turns already. And the last thing Vox wanted was to lead her back to his apartment.

“Vincent! I’m your mom! You can’t ignore me like this! I RAISED you! I gave birth to you when your father didn’t even want you! I gave up everything to give you a life! The least you could do is tell me what I did wrong!” Lailah grabbed hold of Vox’s sleeve, halting him in his steps. More than ever before, he became aware of how hollow his chest was. Like a phantom limb he understood it should be there and beating; but there was only a useless lump doing nothing instead. Vox answered in kind by sharply smacking her hand away.

Hands deep in his pockets, he kept her mitts from grabbing onto his unnaturally cold and sharp hands. He’d not said a word, but her words didn’t cease. And they were all words he’d heard before.

“I love you! So why doesn’t my son not love me?! I have done nothing but try to be a good person! To be a good mother for you! Whatever it is that’s upset you, you can’t just keep holding onto this forever. You have to learn to let it go, forgive me.” The sheep’s impassioned pleas kept on, nothing could convince her otherwise.

To all the eyes watching the scene, Vox did look the part of the awful ungrateful son, and he was fine with this. When he finally gave up and looked at her, she was crying and in hysterics. Ears pinned back with snot running down her face, her hands grasping at his sleeve with a silent plea for him to grant her request.. Anyone with a heart would ache for her; but not Vox. Hell had conveniently robbed him of it when he fell.

Truth was, Vox had tried to tell her. Multiple times in fact! Broke it down as simply as he could in cold logical fact. Got into emotional screaming matches. Tried to write her a letter once that she ignored, demanding he talk to her instead. She just… didn’t listen. Didn’t want to listen, and he refused to let him get caught in that cycle again even if it meant he had to become the villain in her story.

“Miss. I’m not this Vincent. This is getting old now. I don’t have a mother, and my name is Vox. I’ve been patient for now, but I will hurt you if you continue to follow me.” A raised claw crackled with electricity and the look of fear in her eyes was matched by the betrayal in her face. It was a bluff, the idea of harming her brought dread but if she couldn’t see herself as the victim he knew she’d never leave. 

A pale blue square reflected in those dark horizontal slits, and a strangled bleat left her lips. Tonight Vox would hate himself, but he’d be free. Tonight he’d mourn losing his mother, but he’d be free. Tonight… Vincent died.

“Those are some impressive tears, little lamb. Keep crying and you’ll attract all the hungry wolves. You know I hear the Radio Demon haunts these streets. And he’s a particularly hungry demon. I’ve heard how he once kept one man alive for two weeks straight eating his regenerating organs. Only escaped after he begged for mercy for three days and three nights.” Sorry Alastor. Maybe you weren’t actually that cruel. But he added fuel to that little fire that built you into a legend. It did the trick.

“You’re as inhuman as you look now. Hell found a fitting body for you.” Lailah’s words would have hurt, if she hadn’t casually unleashed that barbed tongue on him hundreds of times before. In fact, it made Vox proud to have it! Dr. Frankenstein would have to look at the monster he created, even if he would never acknowledge they were the hands that stitched it together over painstaking years.

Vox watched the retreating figure as it faded around a corner. The silence of the night announced his bitter victory. The TV Overlord’s footsteps dragged as spun around, ignoring the eyes, the questions, everything around him until he got home.

The street lamp hanging above his door illuminated as soon it sensed movement. It made the inside of the place feel deathly silent and dead in contrast. A modest little place where he laid his head at night, and little more. A house but not a home.

The apartment was cold and dark, with the only light cast from the door behind him. Boxes accumulated by his feet, trash that was meant to be taken out later. And then later never came, so it became the norm. Darkness swallowed him as closed the door, with the only light coming from his very own face.

Thump.

Vox’s back hit the door, his body slowly taken by gravity until his rear hit the floor and his screen buried into his arms. He shed bitter tears. Digital and false, like the rest of him. That wasn’t enough to satisfy the discord in his chest. Cyan-blue claws dug and tore into the flesh of his arms, blooming droplets of bright blue blood that trailed down his fingers. Rather than sobbing, unnatural static and error noises were the sound of his heart breaking. And he cried, until the insufferable pain had dulled into a pleasant numb.

Vox’s only companion was the methodical ticking of the clock. It was all he could hear from the odd chasm that he was left with when all his tears had been spent. Nothing in his mind but the tick that would come. The routine became a balm. When he focused his mind on that alone, all the scattered hundreds of thoughts of the mother and demon who chained him in life, disappeared. As the minutes passed, the death grip of his claws eased until the metronome of the clock lulled him to a half-asleep state. “I’m sorry Mom. I can't save you. I can't even save myself.”

…

..

.

The next day was miserable. Falling asleep on the floor was not the most comfortable place to wake up the next day. His ass felt sore and there was still a numbness that came from his encounter with his mother the night before. Yet the morning brought with it a sense of newness, like one half of his life had ended… and a new one began.

The unnatural sleeping position made his body move sluggishly. By the time the appointed hour rolled around, Vox felt more like death than in any condition to storm a powerful overlord’s territory. But the emptiness he felt also meant he couldn’t care less what happened to him. As long as he had his mask, he could do anything.

Like all the exhaustion he felt, all the heartache, and troubles disappeared when he donned the mask. That was his warpaint, the way he managed to get through life even when everything else felt as if it was falling apart. With only a single black coffee to fill his stomach and a muffin grabbed on a bakery on the way he passed by. 

The morning was bitter cold, Vox was already wishing for a real bed, but he was ready. Ready as he’ll… ever be.

Vox strolled through the doors to Vespera’s palace. The inside was as extravagant as the outside. Lush red carpets, beauty products in small displays, elegant light fixtures, sleek beautiful casing, and paisley wallpaper. There was a faint perfume in the air, a seasonal scent that Vox would guess. The place screamed class. Most customers were women. All of the employees were dressed elegantly for the nightlife. Each is like a jewel in their own right, faces painted and bedecked in jewels and furs.

A pink-furred squirrel sinner raised her head, taking immediate attention from Vox. Standing at a mere five feet even with her three-inch high heels, the long bushy tail curled around his legs as she approached him. Oh- Vespera trained these women well. He’d buy whatever she wanted to sell him if he wasn’t here for a reason.

Damn, that was sad.

“Hello there mister! Here for your girlfriend or wife? Both?” A toothy bucktooth smile cheekily punctuated her statement.

“Yes actually! You see, my girlfriend is a trendy type of woman and I was wanting to get her the latest and greatest. Nothing but the best for my Honey Bunny you know.” Vox’s voice oozed with false affection for his fictitious sweetheart. A romantic trill played from his speakers that had surprised the little squirrel and won a giggle.

“Aww! Whadda sweetheart! I like ya. Only the best for the best yeah! Turns out Vespera finished a new product last week. We’ve only got a small batch ready for our most loyal customers but...” The squirrel twitched her tail, brushing their shoulder against his leg. She recoiled when they realized hVox’s leg was colder and harder than they realized. She tried to brush it off with another coquettish giggle and curled her tail even tighter around his leg. 

“I might be able to get you a look behind the curtain. If you can do me one itsy bitsy little favor that is.”

Vox bent over, drawing his face as close as he comfortably could to the other sinner’s face as he spoke in a deeper voice,

“Of course! Consider me at your service Miss…?”

“Miss Mitty if you please! I have a few products I’ve been dying to get people to try! Most come for the trendy stuff and I get it! But popularity doesn’t always correlate with quality. Your lady can chase the trends but has she considered setting them herself?”

Vox understood right away, she was trying to move some product that was hogging the shelves. It was a cute attempt. He decided to listen for now. 

“You’re right…! My honey bear is so beautiful she should be the trendsetter! Please, after you.”

With another flirty bat of her tail, it even stretched across his screen. For the time being he let her, ignoring the soft sensation. He was far too focused on his goal to be distracted by fuzzy tails. Vox wanted to get his information, get out, and go home. 

Mitty escorted him to a corner of the store, taking out what Vox understood to be some perfume. The bottles were like works of art with a glass shape. The packaging was also adorned in modest and elegant boxes. For products struggling to move, it was because it was on the pricey end, rather than quality if Vox was a betting man. And he was.

“Have you seen East of Eden? The lead actress for the movie actually loves this perfume! Sold it to her myself!”

Vox was familiar with the actress! He was the one who had produced that same movie, and by extension was well aware of the actress. Ms. Skyler was not the kind of woman that Vox would follow for trendsetting. She was beautiful as all movie actresses were, but boy was she a pain to deal with. Such a damn drama queen. Naturally, she was an AMAZING Cathy. The false smile of his stretched even further to hide his inner dialogue.

“You don’t say! I haven’t seen that one yet, I’ve heard good things. Haven’t seen a bummer yet out of that studio.” Oh, how Vox liked to toot his own horn. “I’m curious, how do you test these products to make sure they’re safe? You see, my girlfriend LOVES animals to death. And if she found out I got her something tested on cute bunnies and other creatures… I’d be in the dog house you see.” Vox gravely shook his head. A hand over his heart for the poor predicament that was completely fabricated.

“Oh!” Mitty shook her head, getting immediately handsy with him with a pat on his arm. There it was again, that moment of realization that had her pulling her hand away and giggling. Her attempts to brush it off only made it more obvious. “No, not at all Mister! All of our products are tested by our employees personally! No animals are harmed in our testing.”

“I see! That’s quite a relief! Do you think… I could get a look at the back to see for myself? It would be reassuring for my girlfriend.” Now was the time. With how often the woman touched him, she wasn’t even too shocked when he held her shoulder and made her meet his eyes. There was a skill that had aided Vox in his slow climb to become an Overlord, a power of suggestion to make people more susceptible to do what he wanted. As long as it was within the wheelhouse of a choice they’d make. Right eye distended and widened, a hypnotic black and white swirl left her enraptured. Mitty’s whole body went rigid as all the will had been sapped. With loose shoulders, she nodded.

“Right this way sir.”

Vox’s hypnotism wasn’t widely known, which is why it was so powerful.  It was not something he used often; breaking down the wills of everyone around him felt... too evil even for him. Not that he’d even attempt to rationalize what he was doing now. It was horrible. It wasn’t even for the greater good, it was so he could impress a pretty red demon. So in the end, he accepted the fact that he certainly wasn’t a good person.

Mitty escorted Vox into the back, through a long hallway, and through a door with a lock which she had the key for.It was only after a set of stairs that they finally arrived at their destination. They were underground if Vox went by the lack of windows. The place was illuminated only by the lights on the ceiling. The biggest tell was how absent any radio waves were, when Alastor should be in the middle of a broadcast right now.

Vox smelled something before he saw anything. Rotting, putrid, somewhat sweet? The thick scent of the air fresheners only made it worse. Rather than covering up the vile smell, the air fresheners blended to make a cloying, toxic aroma that could turn even Vox's own stomach. 

The hallway was bare save for the many photos of Vespera adorning the walls. Some with her meeting with other powerful Overlords, the newest fashion, her fresh takeover of Cannibal Town, and to his surprise there was one with her standing next to Alastor. That had halted Vox’s steps. Was he friends with her by chance? There was no inscription or anything besides a photo with him, Vespera, and a short curvy blonde woman he didn’t recognize.

The long period between eye contact was loosening the suggestion on Mitty. The squirrel was starting to come back already, as he could tell by the stagger of her footsteps and the way she kept reaching for her head.

“Thank you for escorting me Ms. Mitty. I’ll take it from here.” Vox took her by the shoulder, forcing her to look at him as he hit her with another dose of hypnosis. Subjecting it to her twice in such a short time and with such force would make her suffer some… ill side effects but it couldn’t be helped. Mitty agreed as a tendril of drool started to roll down the side of her lip. The poor woman would feel miserable for a few days, but no damage was truly permanent in Hell.

The door to the lab was locked. This time by an electronic lock. A peep hole at the top offered a view on the other side. A few scientists were working inside, but the small hole left little visibility to see what was inside. With a handful of souls in hand, Vox felt he could hold his own even outnumbered, but his hypnotism would be his best weapon. After lifting his head to bring his pupil in line with the peep hole Vox managed to see a little further inside. The regret was instant.

The back of his hand held up against his digital mouth while he held back the urge to vomit. There were lumps of flesh inside. Some half-regenerated sinners bearing growths, extra parts they shouldn’t have, others with flesh eaten away by… who knows what. The people with recognizable parts had it even worse.

They were conscious while suffering from the same afflictions. He was pretty sure one had mushrooms growing all over his body and another was missing the outer layer of his skin. Even if Alastor WAS friends with this Vespera woman, this felt like an open and shut case. This woman was SICK. Vox took a strong mental picture so he could show Alastor, even as it sent another wave of nausea that had him roiling in his gut. The sooner he could get Alastor here, the better. This was… pure evil.

Rosie’s husband was in that lab, wasn’t he? What was his name again? He was pretty sure Rosie mentioned it once. Cyril. If they were listed by name… he could carry him out of here? No. That was stupid. Risky. Alastor may not hit this place tomorrow or even next week. It all depended on when he read that letter. And if he was inclined to come here. The longer Rosie’s husband stayed here, the more likely he might be subject to a horrible experiment too.

Vox bounced his feet, looking at the electronic lock and the exit from the basement. There was… no benefit to playing hero. Saving the husband of a woman who was married wouldn’t earn him any damn points. They weren’t friends. She was a stranger. Vox was no hero! He couldn’t even PRETEND to be one considering how easily he brainwashed Mitty earlier. But-- when he thought about how heartbroken she was crying on that curbside it… had him clenching his fist. Vox WISHED he had somebody who would cry over him like that. This Cyril was a lucky man.

“Damn it!”

Chapter Text

I lived my life in shadow

Not literally, but always in someone else's

No matter what I did, I could never break free

My greatest fear is that others will never see me, for me

One of the strange perks of Vox’s electronic body was how he perceived streams of information. It also made him technologically adept at cracking, information processing, and of course gave him a photographic memory. It made him formidable in ways people could not suspect. It had taken years for him to get as comfortable in his body as he had; over time he was sure he’d discover even more talent. One such perk involved ports in his back from which he could pull out cables. That was his usual way of charging; something he neglected to do last night after he broke down by the front door. His battery was at 46%. Not ideal, but if he kept this to an in and out job and went straight home, he’d be O.K.

There were more than charging cables too. There were input and output cables that could let him uplink or download information as long as he had the proper cable. To his luck, this electronic lock also had a place where he could fit one of his cables into.

It was meant for troubleshooting for the engineers and mechanics. It was also Vox’s backdoor inside. Still, the experience was disturbing and required a moment to collect his breath and brace himself for the existential horror that lay ahead. Moments after the cord connected, all his senses… vanished.

The monitor fell forward as Vox’s consciousness was transported into the lock. It was an experience that went… beyond anything human experience could describe. There was no space. The world was nothing but a constant stream of information. Vox couldn’t feel anything. Taste anything. Hear. Anything. Any sensory information that related to humans completely disappeared. Staying in this state was something Vox couldn’t handle for longer than a few minutes before he started to go insane. It encouraged him to do his work quickly. And Vox was so pitifully weak to a pretty face.

It took only two minutes to crack the code. But the reality of the time spent in that space felt far longer; with each second feeling as if he’d been consigned to a tiny closet where he couldn't move an inch. This Made his transfer back to his body hasty, and in turn incredibly jarring. There was always a period of ultra sensitivity. He could hear everything from a pin drop to the buzzing of electricity in his body, feel the weight of gravity pressing down upon him, as well as the changes in the air where it was slightly warmer in places.

Over-stimulation wasn’t a walk in the park either. Fuck, he hated this body.

The first time he did this, Vox ended up throwing up. Everything that touched his body felt like hell. But now? He only needed a few minutes to center himself and readjust his senses to a level he could handle. That’s the thing about Hell, humans were always adapting. If he could call himself that anymore. Many days he questioned it.

Vox acted quickly. His cables whipped out, coiling around two of the surprised scientists. Hundreds of thousands of volts through their bodies, incapacitating them. They collapsed in dazed heaps on the floor. One hid under one of the desks thinking Vox didn’t see her. And he would pretend he didn’t for now, which left a man with a thick lizard hide.

“Stay back! This will make extra eyeballs grow on your body!” The scientist snatched a test tube, lifting it over his shoulder like a weapon. When Vox considered what was going on in the cages, probably true. But he was pretty sure he was bluffing. Vox answered him with a hypnotic eye.

“Put the tube down, take off your coat, and throw it over here. I’m not your enemy, I’m your friend.” A friendly cordial tone joined with his voice, the soft monochrome eyes squinting to imply something harmless. The lizard went completely rigid, then did as he was ordered, dropping the tube on the floor where he stood. He removed the lab coat and tossed it over to Vox who threw it over his shoulders. Before he could put forth any further orders an aged hand reached through the cage, snatching the scientist by the crest on his head and slammed it hard against the cage.

Bang! Bang bang bang.

An elderly woman smashed his head against the bars until the scientist went limp. Then she snatched one of his arms and fed it through the cage biting into it. Well… Vox never said he’d protect him from cannibals. A twinge of disgust ran through his system, but after watching Alastor this felt pretty tame in comparison.

Vox ignored her and looked through the lab for any sign of which… lump of flesh was even Cyril. There weren’t any names. Tch. Take an inch, might as well go the mile. One by one, Vox started to open the cages. Unleashing a bunch of cannibals was sure to come out well, right? Those who were capable carried those who weren’t able to walk. Others had found boxes and thrown out supplies to bundle the regenerating remains of their friends. But the feasting cannibal was left for last. Vox was… nervous to approach her cage.

The elderly woman’s beady eyes stared hard into Vox’s unnatural face when he tried to tentatively take the lizard away from the cage.

“WHAT’RE YOU DOING WHIPPERSNAPPER!? IS THIS HOW YOU TREAT THE ELDERLY? HURRY UP AND LET ME OUT OR I’LL GIVE YOU A THRASHING!” Her shrill inside voice had Vox wondering if she… had an insane one. At least he could turn down the input, to save himself the ringing afterward.

“Give him a break Susan. You know how outsiders feel around cannibals. He probably felt like you were going to eat him next.” One of the escapees spoke for him.

“He ain’t got any meat on him! He’s a dang gizmo, he’d end up breaking my dentures. Now open my dang cage!” Susan snapped back, shooting a nasty look at the hesitant Vox. He wasn’t honestly thrilled, but he wasn’t going to let the job go half-done. She might prove a good distraction, he could pass this off as a revolt he was NOT involved in. So he unlocked the cage.

The elderly woman was stronger than she looked, as she had no trouble pushing the door open even with the larger sinner’s body blocking the door. The cantankerous woman grumbled as she stepped down from her cage. Immediately her head turned to look at Vox, sizing him up.

“Well! You’re not going to leave the job half-finished are you?! Get us out of here! What are you standing around here for? Get moving.”

It took everything in him to maintain a pleasant smile as much as he wanted to smack her for those words. A thank you would be in order. “Of course Miss. But first, does anyone know where Cyril is?”

“Rosie’s husband?” One of the women spoke up, pointing to one box with the limbs all gathered up. So Vespera did pull him apart, literally. The box was dripping from the blood soaking the bottom, leaving it mushy and painted an eerie pink. Rosie’s problem to deal with. After tucking the box into another to reinforce the bottom, Vox was ready to leave with what he didn’t originally come here for!

“Can two of you grab the woman hiding under the desk and hold her up to me? She’ll be our ticket out of here.” Vox spoke to the two nearest men who stood to attention. A gasp rang out from under the desk as the woman whose location had been revealed started to scramble for her life to the door. She wasn’t fast enough before one of the cannibals tackled her to the floor and with one holding each arm brought her to stand in front of Vox. 

In that moment a display flashed over his screen warning his low battery. He was now down to measly thirty-eight percent. More than enough to get home, but not enough to dilly dally. The discharge of electricity, hypnotism, and cracking had drained his reserve greatly.

Any time spent hesitating or second guessing would only drain him. He hypnotized the last remaining scientist.

“Guide us to the back exit. We want to get out of here without being seen. Disable any alarms and security systems along the way too.” When the cannibals felt the resistance from the scientist fade, they let go. With Cyril in hand, Vox kept in line with the doll-like sinner. Refreshing the eye contact when he could to keep her under his spell. They ended up climbing back up the stairs, taking a turn in the back rooms and left through a double door where two dumpsters on either side of the door awaited them. The smell of failed products, chemicals, and discarded flesh too rotted to be good anymore stank the place up to high heaven. The group of cannibals behind him were far too excited to see the wide open blood red sky again to care.

Purpose fulfilled, the remaining scientist was knocked out with a prompt shock and left back in the hallway out of the elements. He was now down to thirty-two percent. Plenty to get home with. A heavy sigh left his lungs, feeling an intense relief to be outside.

“Well, We’re not out of the woods yet. You all can’t exactly stay here, Vespera will drag you all back. But I have a place you can all stay for a few nights until this is sorted. This way.” Yeah, just… adopt a group of Cannibals Vox. It’ll be fun!

“I’m not leaving!” Susan shut down his suggestion immediately. 

“It’s only for a few days Ma’am. Trust me. I don’t want to be responsible for a bunch of refugees for more than a few days. I’m not that generous.” It was all until Alastor came and devoured her, then he’d kick them all out on their ass. And demand a favor in the future.

“We’re no cowards Gizmo! This is OUR town, and I’m not letting that BITCH drive me from my home. And if any of you have any sense you’ll not roll over and wag your tail for a… machine!” The word was spoken with as much spite as she could manage, throwing a discarded can at his head. Really feeling the gratitude. Vox sighed, screen tilting to the side.

“You know, a jailbreak works a lot better if you don’t end up arguing with each other.” A feminine voice called out across the way. A tall bright pink overlord with large hot pink curls of hair. Walking with ease in long high heels, an evening dress, and wearing a masquerade mask came to greet them. Vox had never seen the Overlord from this area, but he could tell by the presence of the souls they were an Overlord. One that completely outstripped him. Standing by her side, he could see Rosie averting her eyes.

The weight in Vox’s arms felt all the heavier. They should have had at least fifteen more minutes. Was he--- ratted out? 

The box in his hands fell, squishing against the pavement. This was… Bad. He couldn’t win. Maybe he could bullshit his way out of this, like he had with Alastor. A little hard, considering he’d been caught red-handed running off with all her guinea pigs. He could bargain? Make himself too valuable to destroy? He’d proven he was capable.

“If I knew I was going to meet such a strikingly beautiful woman I would have put on something a little nicer. Any chance you’ll give me a chance to meet with you tomorrow and dress appropriately for the occasion?” Vox tugged on the lapels of his coat, throwing on his best smile. The first thing to try to appeal to was always one's vanity!

“For a man being caught red-handed, you’re a rather funny mister. I’m afraid my schedule is rather busy and I don’t have time to meet with nobodies. As cute as they are.” Vespera barked a laugh, flipping open a fan.

It happened in the space of half a second. One moment he was standing there, the next he was floating. He tried to find some foothold while her heels clicked against the concrete. He continued to rise higher and higher into the air. Vox could handle a bigger fall than most, but it didn’t mean he was fond of the idea. He kept talking.

“You know Alastor don’t you?” His continuous rise stopped. The fall was still a good fifteen feet. Not ideal. Not fatal though. If only he could stop spinning mid-air long enough to stop looking like a fool. It was a stab in the dark after he saw the painting, but he could use this. “Truth is! I work for him.”

“You and countless other souls are indebted to him Picture Box. If you are trying to save yourself, you’ll need more than that I assure you.” Vespera spoke, tucking the fan in.

“I don’t owe him my soul. I’m like a… business partner! We’re decently close. I could… put in a good word for you.” Vox held his breath, hoping in the next moment he wouldn’t find himself free-falling. He did fall… but it was gentle. This could work. Only a little more…!

“And why exactly do you think I want to get closer to Alastor of all people?” Vespera asked, laughing at the notion. She waved the fan rolling her eyes as though the idea were ridiculous.

“It was the only male overlord whose picture you bothered to hang in the hallway. You also smiled in that picture. For the others you usually hid your mouth with your fan. Like you are now.” Being called out on such a habit didn’t win him points, it had her angrily putting it away, her beautiful painted lips down-turned.

“Alastor’s picked himself up a dangerous little picture box, hasn’t he. If you were a little more perceptive you’d also realize what you are implying is pointless. It was a cute attempt though.” Vespera chuckled. Vox needed to keep her speaking for a little longer.

“That so? Mind telling me before you mutilate me like poor Cyril there?”

Vespera laughed again, while Rosie flinched. It wasn’t meant as a barb to her, but Vox did feel some vindication to see her suffer for her betrayal. He could be petty and ugly like that. 

“That man’s broken. He doesn’t feel attracted to men, women, or anyone. Unless he’s turning them inside out. But like I said, cute attempt.”

“Oh? That’s too bad. But if he isn’t attracted to a woman like you, it makes sense he wouldn’t be to any.” Vox’s distraction wasn’t for nothing, as they spoke he snuck a cable behind her to wrap around her foot. With his goal accomplished, he unlocked the limiter on his body. Vox discharged as much electricity as he could without knocking out his systems. Hundreds upon thousands of volts draining his battery.

27%

24%

20%

17%

15%

There his systems shut out going straight into low-power mode. Gravity claimed Vox once more, and he went sailing into the ground. Vespera stood there, like a statue. The filter for his Vox’s voice shut off, his screen dimmed, and auxiliary functions like his internal clock were shutting down. Everything was to maintain power until he could plug himself back in. Error messages flashed through his head warning him about damage done to his legs and his hips. One arm had been dislocated. His screen cracked when he hit the pavement.

It took everything Vox had, but at least… he took care of Vespera. Rosie raced over from her place behind Vespera to kneel beside Vox, turning him over to lay on his back. 

“Mr. Vox! You crazy man! You said you were only going to do some reporter investigation! Why are you out here stealing Vespera’s test subjects? Are you crazy?”

“Yes, apparently,” Vox answered with a painful grunt. “Your husband’s… in that box.”

Rosie whipped her head around, leaving Vox’s side to join her husband’s. Or what was left of him? Not exactly how Vox would have imagined his heroic efforts to pay off. But he wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Thankfully one of the other cannibals found some small mercy to at least help him to his feet. The damage to his systems and the lower power had him leaning against their body.

“Thanks… you’re insane for what you did today. Vespera won’t stop chasing after you once she regenerates, you know.”

“Yeah….” Vox answered. To be honest, he had not thought of that. He’d been counting too much on Alastor actually taking care of her. It wasn’t his job to pull him out of shitty situations, so he’d have to figure it out himself if it came to it. Vox still had enough pride to not be completely reliant on Alastor.

Vox’s body trembled as he tried to pick himself up off the pavement. All his auxiliary functions which kept him stable, made his body feel like it wasn’t even his anymore how it tottered and weighed on him. There was no cushion from any impact jarring his every mechanical joint. They squealed with protest when his full weight was made to weigh on his legs.

Warnings of all kinds continued to flash over his head, warning him of reduced capability to take in input. Colors shut out, turning his world monochrome. The quality of sound was reduced to a mono channel that made it impossible for him to tell where anything even was directionally.

“Impressive little picture box! That actually hurt!” Vespera, who had stood immobile until this time finally blinked. The beautiful pink hair and furs draped around her shoulder were sticking at all ends. Once elegant and beautiful, she looked like she stuck her finger in an electrical socket. Not far off, and Vox would gloat. If he wasn’t fucked right now. There was nothing left in his tank right now. His chest rose and fell, trying to desperately think. 

Think think think

How could he get out of this?

 He was already being hoisted into the air again, Vox couldn’t even fight it. He’d fall, shut off for an undetermined time, and regenerate in the middle of a lab to be experimented on next. Having accomplished… nothing. Like his mother always thought he’d amount to.

“I’m going to enjoy breaking you, Picture Box! I don’t know what brings you here, but I’m going to make you AND every one of these disgusting little Cannibals pay me back tenfold! You lot will never see the light of day again! You’ll be begging for the angels to send you to the void by the time I’m done with you!” Shaking with indignant rage, Vespera’s maniacal smile stretched wide at the thought of her revenge on the petty overlord.

That was…

Until Susan came charging in, screaming bloody murder as she grabbed the nearest weapon: A metal pipe, swinging it right over Vespera’s head.

“This is our town and we won’t tolerate your closed-minded fluffy foppish head any longer! Your head looks like cotton candy and you’re as empty-headed and full of air!” It wasn’t in defense of Vox, just the mad ramblings of a woman throwing everything she had to win her home's freedom. Something the cannibals only watched as Vespera never even looked at her while sending Susan into the nearest wall and breaking her back in the process.

“Eugh, disgusting. The bag of wrinkles almost touched me. Well, come on. The rest of you get back in your cages. Or you’ll be dragging yourselves back after I break every bone in your bodies.” Vespera brushed down her clothes. Clicking her tongue when she found more soot and damage on her dress thanks to the ‘picture box’ who had taken advantage of her slip of attention.

Rosie dropped the head of her dear husband on top of the collected mass of parts. As wonderful as it would have been to reunite with Cyril, the lifeless head only evoked more bitter tears. More tears, and an incomprehensible rage burning in her gut. She stood to her full height, fists clenched so tight they drew blood across her beautiful hands.

“What are you all doing? Susan and this stranger are risking everything to save you, and you’re all just STANDING there! Susan’s right! This is our home! We ought to stick together! None of this, ‘it’s not me so I’ll hide and keep myself safe’ shit! Even in Hell, everyone looks down and fears us. Treats as vile and abhorrent creatures. We ONLY have each other. We can’t let this woman divide us anymore! Or there won’t be a place for us anymore in Hell! And if you won’t do anything, I will!” Rosie called out to the other cannibals, most weak and exhausted from the weeks and months of torture. Many turned their eyes away, and some muttered excuses.

Vespera didn’t stand by either, dropping Vox when he was only a few feet in the air to lift Rosie and yank her to the ground beside her. A stiletto pierced her hand where it skid across the cobblestone floor. 

“GIYAAAH!” The sound of his body hitting the floor sounded with a metallic thud.

Still, the cannibals only shuffled. Most were too scared to be the first to move. It was a young woman who was the first to pick up a makeshift weapon. The same bat that Susan discarded. Then a man picked up a shard of glass. Another cannibal found a bent pipe, and another found a piece of metal useful for bludgeoning. The more cohesive the cannibals got, the less the beaten and the exhausted felt intimidated about joining the fight. 

“Give her hell!” Rosie screamed, pointing his gloved hand at their common enemy.

That warcry broke the dam. All at once the cannibals jumped on Vespera, the first couple were thrown off as she whipped them across the pavement. Until a larger man jumped on her back and blocked her eyes. Then a second, third, fourth. Until her whole body had become hidden beneath a mass of cannibals ripping, tearing, chewing on whatever piece of flesh they could find. The screams were reminiscent of the howls of pain when Alastor devoured Grizz. Rosie even ended up joining the cannibals, her own face bloody with a victory meal in her right hand.

After that it became a bit of a buzz for Vox, he could hear Rosie cheering. Making another speech for the cannibals, encouraging them to never let themselves be divided again. If one shall be targeted; they all were! It was a rousing speech, and quite the happy ending Vox decided. Even if Vespera returned, he had faith the Cannibals would band together. But he was completely spent… and sleep sounded so nice right now.

Krzzzt.

Vox knew that frequency! He struggled to turn on his eyes and ears again, searching for the red-clad overlord in the crowd. Alastor stood out among the cannibals, as though he belonged there. The radio-filtered voice spoke,

“My! I come all the way here after being summoned and find that I am too late for the feast! And Vox...” Alastor’s hooved feet clicked against the cobblestone floor as he stood before him. The fearsome crimson eyes stared at him, sclera turning dark and branches extending as his masked anger came out in heavier static. “You were hired to only inform me of potential Overlords. You’ve overstepped your orders”

Like he were too filthy to touch with his bare hands, tentacles hoisted his battered frame off the floor. Constricting until it stole all the breath out of Vox’s lungs. The killing intent from Alastor was palpable, and he was far too weak to fight it. 

“Al-kkshhrhhhh wa-a-aii-zzhhhhh” Vox’s voice was garbled, incoherent from the battered speakers. The constriction from the tentacles became harsher if only to save his sensitive ears from the impudent wailing of a man who couldn’t even do his one task right.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much use for a man who can’t follow simple instructions. Truly a shame! I thought you had potential! Au revoir, Picture Box.”

Chapter Text

There was no denying you earned the reputation you kept

But I saw something in you that day that spoke of something more

I wouldn’t call it a soft spot, or even a secret tenderness

It was as if there was… a humanity buried deep within you

Unearthing it was a cruel act for both of us

Do you regret it?

Create an uprising where the people overtake their Overlord and build unity! 

Heroically stand against impossible odds!

Save a damsel in distress’... husband!

And… Vox was going to die for it. Or disappear, to wherever it was that Alastor took these Overlords. It was far too late for regrets, but those were the last thoughts in his head as he saw the wrath reflected in Alastor’s smile. A pretty face was always his weakness. It had been the cause of his downfall in life and it only made sense for his afterlife. The first was Kaguya, and Rosie would be second. It was stupid and soft. The idea of his life flashing before his eyes would be far too depressing, so he could only hope that Alastor would give him something thrilling for his last moments. To repay him for the effort at least!

“Wait, Mr. Radio Demon sir!” Rosie called out, squeezing in the space between Alastor and Vox. The distraction at least had Alastor easing the constriction around his frame so he could breathe again, but he could still feel all his limbs twisting in ways they weren’t meant to. The air burned as it filled his nearly collapsed lungs. Alastor wasn’t particularly amused by the distraction, one ear twitching as he debated slaughtering this woman too. But the words of his mother to treat women with respect stayed his hand. For now. A pleasant smile crossed his face, entertaining her. For now.

“What is it dear? I’m a little busy, can it wait a couple minutes?” Alastor inclined his head to the side, stretching the yellow smile so far Vox could swear it was creaking.

“It can’t. He was supposed to bring you information on Vespera, right? He asked for my help and when he heard how distraught I was about my husband he went out of his way to save him.” Rosie’s expression softened, she bowed her head. “Please, if you are going to punish him then let me bear it with him.”

There was no reaction, at least initially. Even the tentacles had only held in place with no further movement while the words sunk in. The tentacle that once wrapped around his frame came loose and carefully lowered Vox onto the ground without so much as a jolt of impact. Alastor leaned against his cane, toward Rosie. Both ears bent forward as she now had his full attention. 

“I had no idea the Picture Box was acting in such a chivalrous manner! Why, that does change everything! It is ever so rare to find a man who knows how to properly treat a lady.”

Vox could hardly believe what he was hearing. To his luck, Rosie knew exactly how to capitalize on the situation for his benefit. Her gloved hands pressed together cupped near her face. Those void like eyes blinking owlishly to put on a show of a lady who was so indebted to her hero.

“Oh absolutely! Mr. Vox has been an absolute gentleman! When he found me crying, he brought a smile back to my face! Reassured me everything would be OK. He’s been such an absolute doll, I couldn’t rest easy if he was maimed on my behalf! If you’ll allow me to make it up to you, I’ll make you a Shepherd’s pie! Made with a real shepherd of course.” A brilliant smile full of razor sharp teeth would look endearing, if it didn’t look like it could bite through bone.

Alastor added more weight upon the cane that bore his weight. The discordant signal had become pleasant. Friendly. He was in a better mood than when he let him play with his antennae. This Rosie knew exactly what to say to put him in a good mood. 

“Real Shepherd you say. I’d be delighted! What was your name again, Dear?”

Rosie held out her gloved hand, giggling with delight. 

“The name’s Rosie.” The gentleman he was, Alastor took the provided hand and pressed his brilliant smile against the back. He was careful to avoid any senseless spread of saliva in a place that neither of them wanted.

“Alastor! A pleasure to be meeting you. If you are so taken with the Picture Box I promise to take good care of him until I take you up on your lovely offer. When this… Vespera figure returns, so will I. But I trust you and your people with their lovely smiles have it well handled.” Alastor turned to look at the cannibals with their many bloody smiles. Wide from triumph, a fed tummy, and the hope of better days ahead.

“I’ll try to keep something left of her to take with you Mr. Alastor! But I really should get my husband home before somebody decides they haven’t had enough to eat! Oh and Mr Vox...” Rosie hiked up her skirts, rejoining his side on the ground. He couldn’t do much more than look at her and manage a tempered smile. She lifted the fallen man’s head up off the floor, pressing a chaste kiss against the top of the frame.

“Thank you, Rosie.” Vox’s tired voice buzzed, cracking when he spoke her name. Too tired to even care at this point either.

“Thank you, Vox. I look forward to having you for lunch.” Rosie giggled. A nervous smile floated on the screen, as he questioned who was on the menu: The shepherd or himself?

With what strength Vox did have, he tried to stand up again but it was Alastor who lifted him up off his feet. With a dismissal of his cane he lifted the exhausted TV wanna-be overlord into his arms with yet another puzzled signal caught from Vox’s antennae.

Even when he had full body contact with the little picture box, Alastor’s desire to peel his skin off didn’t surface like when he touched OTHER sinners. There was no body heat, he may as well be picking up a hunk of metal. He liked it! Another playful tune emitted from the Overlord much to Alastor’s ignorance that Vox could pick it up and interpret it.

“Hoho! Hell made you quite the freak of nature didn’t it? You are far heavier than most, and lacking body heat. I may as well be picking up a corpse.” The fondness in that radio laced voice felt contradictory to the words.

“I feel close enough to one right now. I can’t tell if you’re insulting me or complimenting me.”

“I’ll let you figure that one out!” There it was again, that odd trill from their short back and forth.

If anyone found it strange that Alastor was carrying Vox back, nobody dared to question Alastor. His hands may be full, but he was creative in his ways of dispatching and mutilating without dirtying his hands. Vox himself had also stayed silent. His screen in fact had been so dim Alastor could only faintly make out his face, sour as it was.

“You know, I was planning on dragging your soul to The Show after I had grown bored of you! Or you had exhausted your so called connections to find me these so called targets. But it’s rare I find another man in Hell who understands the value of chivalry! Why, most men would have left the poor dear to rot as soon as they knew they couldn’t besmirch her with their filthy little hands.”

Vox wasn’t exactly relieved knowing Alastor was planning on betraying him the whole time. In truth, he’d been trying to make sense of the bizarre warmth and comfort he felt in that moment simply being held. He couldn’t remember the last time somebody simply hugged him. The kiss from Rosie was nice, but this feeling alone? It made the hell he endured worth it. He could have happily remained in that silence, listening only to the happy signal playing from Alastor. And his humming of classical music.

“For a man in Hell, you hold some strange values close while others you could care less. Eat a man alive and stab your partner in the back when you get bored. But disrespect a woman and that’s crossing a line.” Vox managed to smile, something more genuine than the fake one he put on when he was trying to convince Alastor to not eat him too.

It was something so artificial, a projection on a screen and absolutely inhuman. A wide smile that could only be made with a creature who had no lips and muscles to speak of in their face. Alastor loved it. It was so wide and bright! How he wished everyone could smile like that! He liked it so much, he even tolerated the offense. 

“This world is filthy, isn’t it? I don’t simply mean Hell either. Earth too. When a limb is rotting, you cut it off before it infects the whole body. That helps keep the rest healthier. I would consider myself… a good Samaritan. Cleansing the world of its rot.”

Vox had to bite back the laugh fluttering in his chest. It sounded exactly like the sort of thing a vigilante would spout. It also sounded a lot like the garbage he’d spin to win people to his side in his cult. But Alastor did practice what he preached. Even if it was to what he believed was filthy and rotting in the world. That was the problem with vigilantism. It was one man enforcing his code of ethics. Vox aspired to be an Overlord, he was long past the point of caring..

 “And if you accomplish the impossible and rid the universe of everything filthy, what will you do next?”

“Hmm… Can’t say I’ve thought about it! I have always wanted a garden, always wanted to see what I could grow on a human body. Or would that make me an artist…?” 

“I believe freak would be the term MOST people would use to describe somebody with that kind of hobby.” Vox bluntly responded. He regretted it almost as soon as it left his speakers, the muscles in his body becoming tense, until it was laughter that spilled free from Alastor without malice that caught him off guard.

“You’re quite right! Sadly not everyone has the eye to appreciate fine art the way I do. As Voltaire once said, ‘we must cultivate our gardens’. But never mind what others think, what about you my boxy-headed friend?” Unlike before, there was an air of openness to Alastor that didn’t exist before. As though he truly wanted to know what Vox thought.

“I haven’t read Voltaire, but I have a feeling he wasn’t talking about one's sense of aesthetic. As for what I think… we’re in Hell. You and I are right where we belong so if you’re the kind of bastard who likes to make corpse flowers, go for it. Who knows, maybe I’ll see what’s so beautiful about it if you explain it to me.”

“An interesting answer, I’ll remember that.”

It was strange how easy it was to talk to him. With how terrifying Alastor was when they first met, this was actually the most pleasant conversation he’d had since he fell. The fact that they were touching may have had something to do with it. It felt like ages since he last felt a human touch. Vox’s apartment had come into view disappointingly soon. He’d wish he could have kept talking with Alastor for a little longer. Vox barely had a chance to take the key out of his pocket before a shadow had ripped it out of his hands and turned the lock on its own. 

“Aha… you have a lot of tricks up your sleeve don’t you?” Vox joked.

“Always; an Overlord always keeps several.”

If Alastor had any thoughts on his dark and stark apartment, he didn’t say anything. Only asked for where the bedroom was and laid Vox’s body out on the bed. With a bit of a struggle, Vox managed to remove his cable and handed it off to Alastor to plug it in. The moment the plug was snug in the outlet, relief washed over Vox. The auxiliary systems one by one flipped back on. The brightness of his monitor returned, the quality of sound improved, color returned to his world, and like a truck had hit him pain wracked his whole body. It had snapped him out of the once sleepy state he was in. Immediately he shot up, clutching his stomach in hopes that making him as small as possible would ease the aching all over his body.

“Hm. That put a pep back in your step. Does it heal you to plug your… body into the wall?” Alastor could hardly make sense of Vox’s bizzare body. It fascinated him of course to no end! He was new, entertaining, and a colorful character. So unpredictable in all the best ways!

“No…” Vox hissed, clutching at his jacket. The claws threatened to tear into his clothes, the pain was so bad. For the time being he shut off the pain receptors, breathing with relief. “I require power to run my mechanical functions and also to use my powers. I forgot to plug myself in last night like an idiot.”

“Hmmm! In any case, I am going to make use of your kitchen. Are you hungry for anything in particular?”

“...Why are you going so far as to carry me home and make me dinner?”

An electronic brow raised high with suspicion. Yet, Alastor only laughed like it was the most ridiculous question he’d ask yet. When Vox didn’t laugh with him, only then did he realize he was serious! 

“We’re business partners aren’t we? When you’re weak it’s only natural for me to pick up the slack. You did good work today, Picture Box. You’ve made this slum into a slightly brighter place.”

Vox didn’t know how to react. At first he felt uncomfortable, like he should slide out of bed and be the one to serve his guest. He had already troubled Alastor this much to carry him here when it was his stupidity that got him in that mess. But when he tried to push himself up, Alastor’s cane was there to press against his chest and force him back on the bed.

“Ah ah! I won’t have you rejecting my generosity!”

“You’ve already carried me this far, that’s already more than anyone else would have gone for me.”

“And I won’t have it halfway done, Picture Box!” Alastor insisted, butting him harder until Vox was forced to comply. The darkening sclera was a warning he knew how to take.

“Then… I’ll try to return the favor when the day comes.” Vox couldn’t sit still, everything was a quid pro quo. Nobody did anything for somebody without expecting something! But even that declaration was met with another laugh from the retreating red haired figure.

“That will never happen! If it tears you up so much inside, I have been struggling to find an album by Miles Davis, Blue Haze. One of his more recent albums I’ve been told. Put to good use those connections you purport.”

With those words, Alastor spun on his heels and left the room. Vox muttered the words under his breath, memorizing the name and album. A little scavenger hunt didn’t feel like a bad deal. Give him a reason to rest easy, once he found it.

Even when Alastor left the room, Vox could still feel him wherever he was thanks to that signal he constantly emitted. It only started to die down when he could hear him digging around in the kitchen. Vox didn’t have much in the way of cooking. In fact, he barely had the essentials. And ingredients? Mostly stuff for simple meals. The only thing he could truly say he had going for him was that he kept it clean. Those standards felt incredibly short when he was entertaining a man who ate Overlords for breakfast. Ugh.

In the end, with the meager fare that Alastor had to work with he had settled on soup. Full of all the vitamins Vox would need to boost his regeneration and get him back to one hundred. All so he could return to sporting that brilliant smile again! The short time left to charge had not been enough that Vox could move around outside his power saving mode, but he hardly needed anything to eat a meal. In the end he decided to prioritize his stomach. His first real meal with a person since his fall to Hell.

The last time he shared a meal with anyone was back when he had become wrapped up with his cult. Each and every man looked at him in awe and wonder, many with glazed eyes thanks to the drugs he kept feeding them. Others were because they believed him to be some prophet that was more than human. The reality that he was simply a man misconstruing the words of God for love never occurred to them. They only saw an illusion. Alastor on the other hand had a look that was closer to pity in his eyes. Or affectionate as one looks at a pet. And Alastor caught Vox staring.

“There is no demon meat in your food, dear.”

“I wasn’t even aware that was something I had to watch for...” Vox picked up his spoon, examining the contents. Nothing but vegetables. Alastor laughed, leaning forward far enough that his elbows rested on the table. His chin propped on the back of his hands.

“I take it you have another reason for staring at me then?”

Other than the fact you’re drop dead gorgeous? Vox thought.

“Oh, you know. Simply surprised the man who was planning to kill me as soon as he saw me carried me home and made me dinner. I’ve dealt with mixed signals before but...this one takes the cake.”

Vox managed to get the Radio Demon to laugh again, flippantly waving his hand as though he had done a silly little goof. Nothing worth getting one's tail in a twist over.

“That was all over a misunderstanding! Lucky for you Rosie vouched for you, or you’d be nothing but a pile of rubble right now. But if you’re smart you will take the hint. Never get yourself involved again. You’re to gather information and that’s all. Do not even dare to think you know who or what I constitute to be filth and worthy of eradication. You got lucky this time, as I am quite fond of the little Cannibals.” The once good cheer of the Overlord faded, even if his smile never did.

“I won’t. I promise.” Vox mumbled, unable to hold that eye contact. Alastor seemed satisfied when he submitted without trouble.

“Good! I would hate to cut our partnership short! I’m starting to think I enjoy your company. It’s rare that I can tolerate a man’s company.” As if that didn’t quite kill his appetite, Alastor at least seemed unhindered. Still, with how his body was going to need some major repairs he may as well make sure he had as much energy as possible. To Vox’s surprise, the cooking was… good. Better than anything his wife ever made. And he was so thankful she couldn’t hear his thoughts, because she would KILL him.

Small crumbs of humanity shouldn’t affect him this deeply, but they did. How ridiculous, that it took a serial killer cannibal to carry him when his feet couldn’t. Make him something to eat when he is weak. Look at him with that odd patience when fear makes his voice crack. Vox wasn’t naive to say that he may be nicer than he looked. If Vox had to guess, it was a desire for connection just as strong as his. A desire that could only go unspoken.

“I’ve been wondering, how on earth did you manage to get such a strange little body? Did you have one fall on your head?” Alastor broke the silence with a question. That was everyone’s first guess. Most of the time, Vox would simply tell them they were correct. The real story tended to put him on the wrong foot with people.

“No. Have you ever read Dante’s Divine Comedy by any chance?” Taken in by the question in place of an answer Alastor cocked his head. The smile on his face stretched. This roundabout way of answering was more amusing! Bravo Picture Box.

“I have. Quite a delightful read! I take inspiration where I can when I feel like my routine has gotten a little stale. Why?”

“You remember the forest in the ring of Violence? Those who lost their bodies. This is… only a theory mind you, maybe Hell decided this for an entirely different reason. Well like those people I also committed suicide, but I did so in front of television and broadcasted it with my… letter. I bet that video is some oddity in some creepy museum somewhere now.” Vox’s spoon rattled against the bowl, watching the chunks of vegetables get pulled in by the current tugged by his spoon. Alastor had no trouble putting two and two together.

“I did not take you to be the type. What made you decide to end it all?”

“Long story. But to keep it short, spite? I was driven into a corner, lost everything after the war, and I got so dragged into the deep end I didn’t see a way out. It felt like the only… way I could take control again. I regretted it as soon as I drank the poison though. What about you, how did you die?”

More mysteries. Vox knew how to keep his attention. He wondered what it was he was clinging so strongly to, but he liked questions more than answers. 

“Mistaken for a deer when I was burying a victim in a deer park. Nothing quite so dramatic as your own exit my friend.”

It was so anticlimactic that Vox doubted it at first. Yet he looked completely calm sitting there with his cheek pressed into his palm watching him eat without joining. And he had to wonder about the burying a victim part of that sentence.

“I was always a bit of a drama king.” Vox joked, playing a jingle from his speakers that sounded like a womp womp. It caught Alastor so off guard he blinked slowly and broke into a fit of laughter more severe than any other. The sight had Vox joining in with slightly less enthusiasm, he usually felt self conscious about those noises but if he liked it? They could hardly be so bad.

Three years since his fall to Hell. Of all the people that Vox felt like he could call a friend, he never expected an infamous Overlord like Alastor to be the first. Yet the gratitude he felt in his empty chest was entirely real.

“You mentioned that wasn’t what Voltaire meant by, ‘To cultivate your garden’.” Alastor brought up out of the blue, crimson fingertips danced against his cheek as he had steeped on that sentence. “What do you think he meant then?”

A large carrot chunk sat on the spoon, with only a thin layer of broth coating around it. Vox only took a bite out of half of the chunk and dropped it back into the bowl.

“I didn’t expect you to circle back to that… It means you can’t do anything about the world all around you but you can at least control what happens in your little corner of it and fill it with the things that make you happy. Again, I never read it so I’m missing all of the context here.” The metal spoon twirled between his claws, catching between two of his fingers where it balanced between.

“Candide is a satirical work that insulted a philosopher’s idea that we live in the best possible world and all things happen for a reason. It’s quite a hilarious work where all our protagonists suffer quite needlessly while the philosopher himself continues to insist this is all for the best!” Alastor laughed, tapping his fingers against the table. There was an uneven tug on his smile as he let his perfect mask slide… only a little. “And in the very end after losing the love of his life, his nobility, his riches he is reduced to labor and eating miserable food. And he is once more told that it was necessary to reach the best possible worlds. Then our novel ends with that very sentence.”

“Sounds like something a man wrote entirely out of spite…” Vox mused, trying to hide the smirk on his screen behind his hand.

“I can’t say I entirely disagree. Spite is a powerful driving force.” Alastor agreed.

“Hard to say. At least, to put into words. Perhaps to reach the best possible world, we have to forge that path ourselves. In your case, that’s burying people you don’t like and making mushrooms and roses bloom from their corpses.”

The pleasant radio signal returned with a force, with a glimmer in those ruby eyes as they crinkled at the corners.

“Nothing would grow on your little metal carcass. Fortunately I am quickly enjoying your company! Do finish eating and make sure to rest. You haven’t fulfilled your part of our deal and I’d hate to grow attached to you only to discover you’re worthless.” A single fingertip reached out, sliding along the thin length of the antenna on Vox’s head. There were no nerve endings on them, but the feather-light touch still evoked a shiver that ran through Vox’s body.

“Leaving so soon? I’ll walk you to the door.” Barely pushing back the seat, Alastor’s palm clapped down on his shoulder, keeping him locked in place. A soft tsk-tsk sounded from above with Alastor’s disapproval.

“I can walk myself. I’ll have you running yourself ragged for my sake soon enough. Rest for now.” After pushing Vox back in, Alastor took his departure waving his farewell at the door. Vox strained his senses, feeling for that tenuous connection of the radio signal until it had disappeared completely before he returned to his soup. The electronic gray face stared back at him.

“Actually… mushroom corpses do sound lovely this time of year.”

Chapter Text

The world through your eyes was always a mystery

Far beyond my understanding

But in that world I was something fascinating

And I would do anything to remain in for as long as possible

Vox slept for a whole day straight once he plugged in and his screen hit the pillow. A deep dreamless kind of sleep that when he awoke the next day, morning had already long passed. The streets were busy with traffic. Alive with a din of conversation, and the occasional honking of car horns. Slowly the secondary and auxiliary functions came back on in full one by one making him feel less like a walking soulless husk and closer to… human. Even if he had lost that qualification even before his death. The switch for his pain was still switched off. It would stay that way for now. The function itself was necessary for many reasons, but not productive when he was trying to rest. And Vox wanted to get as much as he could before he handled the repairs his regeneration wouldn’t handle.

Unfortunately his new body didn’t come with an instruction manual so a lot of it was guess work and trial and error. His garage had an assortment of common parts for simple repairs. Anything requiring a specialist would be expensive and hopefully avoided. The TV studio made him a decent living, but not to the standard that he could do expensive mechanical repairs on himself on the regular. The ability to shut off pain was another saving grace that made the unnatural and horrifying feeling of digging around in his own insides less unpleasant. Once he got past how disturbing it was to dig around in his own skull.

The hours he spent in such deep focus ran away from Vox, taking meticulous notes of what he’d discovered, pouring back over the precious knowledge that he’d documented, and restoring himself closer to a hundred percent. He had almost missed the knock at the door, making his body jolt in shock. Somebody was at the door. Of course they were, the worst possible time for company would be when he was operating on his head. He had a backup head installed right now, an old and bulky model that reduced his expressions down to mere pixel faces. The quality was piss poor and even the sound quality made everything sound like something out of a record. It was in fact the original head Vox had when he fell to Hell, something he couldn’t find in him to throw away so it was his backup.

“One minute! I’ll be right there!” Vox laid the screwdriver to the side with a sigh and hurriedly made strides over to the door. The impatient person on the other side of the door knocked a second time. Unhappy about being ripped from his repairs, Vox impatiently opened the door ready to verbally cut down any solicitor who stood there. Only it wasn’t a solicitor.

It was The Radio Demon.

Brilliant ruby eyes glowed contrasting against the evening sky behind him, the yellow dial of his smile eerie as if he’d been transported into some twilit world. And In his hands, he held a casserole dish. The new appearance did NOT go unnoticed by Alastor, with the chiming trill returning with a vengeance.Not only had he upgraded to a more vintage model! 

“Good, you’re awake! I was worried you might still be sawing the ol’ log chum. Figured you might be hungry and bed ridden but here you are. You’re more resilient than I suspected, impressive! May I come in?”

Vox stepped to the side to let him in, both confused and surprised by the visit. Alastor once again made himself right at home, pushing immediately past Vox and swerving into the kitchen on the right to relieve himself of carrying the dish. Having only used the kitchen yesterday, Alastor wasted no time finding the bowls and a serving spoon. 

“Al, I… uh wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

A joyful answer came with a singular ‘Ha’, full of that signature static in his voice. Alastor’s head did a full ninety degree spin to look Vox in the eye as he spoke even while he doled out two servings of whatever he had in the dish.

“I quite enjoyed your company, little picture box! Truth be told, I stopped by to have breakfast with Rosie this morning. Absolutely darling woman! She told me a bit more about the situation in Cannibal Town and your daring exploits!” There came a pause as he spun his head back around and moved past the disturbed and boggled Vox. The man truly wasted no time in making himself comfortable in somebody else’s home.

“How is Rosie? And has her husband made any progress pulling himself together?” Rosie wasn’t on his list of concerns over restoring his old body, but the mention of her name again did catch his interest. In the end Rose DID save his life, and he’d prefer to see what he risked his afterlife for to bear some fruit.

“It turns out there was an extra part in that box! Made for a nice snack. Once that tricky business was taken care of the man is coming together at an astonishing rate. I wager he’ll be dancing with his wife by the week’s end. What I want to know though, is what the occasion is for the new handsome face. Why, I don’t think I’ve seen a model like that since I walked the Earth!”

“This old thing? It’s a backup. I use it when my current head is… broken. I was in the middle of repairs when you got here.” Vox thumbed behind him, pointing at the garage. However the siren’s call of a home-cooked meal to an empty stomach won over his desire to wear his comfortable face. “I’ll show you after lunch. Then you won’t have to deal with my weird ass face.” The limited expressions of this ancient model meant he had to be creative. The pixel for his eyes rotated into a square fashion to mimic eye rolling, and his mouth opened up to look like a D resting on its curve.

Bare-faced laughter rang out from Alastor, more than a little amused by the new development. A fingertip tapped at the glass, as he tried to evoke a new emotion by force. The pixelated eyes quickly resembled two spirals and his mouth warped into a small o.

“How DELIGHTFUL! Though this model is missing that DAZZLING smile of yours, what with all the teeth that look as though they could clean a bone! Show me what other faces it can do.” Alastor demanded, all the while his face came in close enough Vox could feel those bangs brushing against his screen. Static pulled and tugged at his hair, and those eyes felt far too close examining his features as though under a fine glass.

“Not much of a man for personal space are you? I’ll show you, just… give me some room.” Vox stepped back, forcing some space between the two. Alastor’s hand settled behind him, watching expectantly for the show. Put directly on the spot, Vox heaved a sigh and alternated through what he knew.

He could make his eyes widen into two pixel dots and widen his mouth into a large O!

Replace his eyes with two x’s and make his lips a flat line or an o.

Turn his mouth into a p laid on its side to mimic a tongue. That one earned a laugh from Alastor, urging Vox to keep on going. The game went on a little longer, with Vox exhausting each and every face that he could until Alastor had leaned gratuitously on his cane, the eye squinting in pain.

“I swear– that’s all of them. Are pixel faces really that amusing?” Vox breathed out in exasperation. “Now– I’d like to get back to my repairs. This head is amusing to you, but it gives me a headache. It’s like the whole world has downgraded around me.” A clawed fist rapped at the wooden finish with a dull knock.

“How so?” Alastor could resist his curiosity, one that Vox responded in kind with a shy rubbing at the back of his neck, averting his digital gaze back to the kitchen

“The world is more blurry, monochrome, the sound quality is also awful. It not only affects my face but my senses too. You could be wearing green right now and I wouldn’t know. I’ll tell you more after lunch.” Vox brushed past Alastor, only stopping to look back once.

The radio demon hummed, he was admittedly curious. The man was an enigma as far as his body went. He could confess he’d been interested in tearing him open to find out how it all worked but the actual functioning man was… fun. He had a nice voice and he was surprisingly enjoyable to talk to. Having dug his hands within so many blood and flesh individuals, he was hardly perturbed by one half mechanical. 

“That sounds utterly delightful! I’m sure there are plenty of individuals who wished they could poke around and fix what’s wrong with their head hm?”

“If only I could fix the things you’re talking about. I’m refusing to go to therapy like everyone else. If that’s a thing in Hell even.” Vox made his living eating meals from convenience stores or hitting up restaurants. He rarely cooked for himself and even his wife rarely made him dinner thanks to the long hours he kept after work. So to enjoy a home cooked meal twice in so many days was uplifting. Sure, he was still half broken. And not even halfway fulfilled his obligation to the demon sitting across from him. Yet Alastor had a quality to him that enjoyed the present rather than searching toward the future. He didn’t feel like he was in a rush. It made Vox feel like he could enjoy the present for what it was too.

The spice was heavier than anything he normally ate however! The first bite was excellent! The second as well. But the third and fourth started to drive home how many spices coated the food. The water he scrambled for, only made things worse for his burning tongue. The fans in his body flipped on one by one, trying to cool down his body. Alastor, who seemed completely unaffected by his own cooking, smirked. Watching that digital tongue stick out of its monochrome face was inspiring more fits of laughter.

“Are you not used to spice, Vox?”

“Not this much! I was not expecting my mouth to be on fire. This food… are you from Louisiana by any chance? Or just a fan of the food?” Too bad the milk Vox had in the fridge had expired already. It felt like that shit always went bad the very next day. Could never drink it fast enough.

“You got it in one! Louisiana born and raised. The streets were alive with the sound of Jazz, dance, and of course a radio in every household listening to the stories and newest hits.” His head cocked to the side, his right ear flopping against his skull. “The nightlife was even more exciting. When we weren’t dancing in Speakeasies, the night was alive with the screams of the filth of this world. Have you ever killed a man, Vox?”

Vox cleared his throat, trying to ignore the screaming pain on his tongue as he swallowed another bite. Was this some kind of punishment? Was Alastor actually still pissed at him? 

“That depends. Does convincing a bunch of people to commit suicide count?”

“Right! I recall you mentioning a cult. Does it have to do with that? I wouldn’t say it does. It’s so… impersonal to leave another to do it by their own hand unless it’s by coercion. But you… convinced them with your charm didn’t you?” The demon’s crimson gaze bore into him, like he was seeing through even that metal frame.

“Charm is… how people joined the cult. But it was a lot more complicated than that. Convincing them that death was the only answer? That was done as soon as they thought that the whole outside world was against them. Rather than believe that the world they had entrenched themselves in was wrong, they dug their heels in harder and harder until death was preferable than change. That’s how you get them all to willingly drink the punch.” Somebody normal might be disgusted, but Alastor kept on smiling. He was intrigued.

“Why’d you start one in the first place? Did you expect it to go well in the end?”

Staring into the past was like sticking your hand through a rose bush. Full of thorns whose sole purpose was to draw as much blood as possible. To reminisce on those years felt like a similar tribulation for the soul. 

“It’s… a long story. After I lost my job and my wife, my life was in freefall. I stopped believing in any future at that point. I didn’t think I had one. And it’s… something I’d rather forget honestly.”

Regrets, shame, things one want to forget. It wasn’t as if Alastor didn’t have things like that, but he would never confess to it. He preferred his impenetrable shield. It came naturally to pity those who weren’t as ironclad as he was. 

“Of course. A man is always more attractive with an air of mystery isn’t he? Though, you would look far more dapper if you didn’t look like you were in so much pain.” It took everything in Alastor to not laugh.

“I refuse to let a bowl of gumbo defeat me.” Vox grimaced, but he didn’t stop eating until the bowl had been left completely clean and only then could he find it in him to let the spoon rest. Alastor had watched the entire time, shoulders trembling with unspent laughter.

“You have thoroughly trounced the dish my friend! Next time I’ll bring something more mild to forge your poor tongue into something that can withstand my finest. And I was so sure I kept it mild this time.” Alastor clicked his tongue, but he was a great big liar. He cooked it with the usual spice! Still, he appreciated that the gentleman had the good sense to eat every last bite he’d gone to the trouble to make him. He earned bonus points, even if he wasn’t aware. “Anyway, you must satiate my curiosity. Let me see you work on your little picturebox! As darling as this antique is, it doesn’t show your beautiful smile to quite the same quality. And I would say it is your very finest you know.”

A cyan claw tapped the screen over his teeth, lips pulled back to reveal the pixelated gray teeth. He’d been called handsome plenty of times in life. But nobody ever complimented his smile before. And from a man no less! 

“You're rather fond of smiles aren’t you, Al?”

“Of course! One is never fully dressed without one, don't you know?” With a spin of his cane, Alastor rose. The now empty dishes whisked away with a bit of glowing green magic to ferry it into the kitchen.

The garage was colder than the rest of the house, even with the door left open. The cold concrete floor, white painted walls, and walls of steel shelves with mechanical parts were the opposite of cozy. Vox’s current CRT wide open with the screen laid to the side. 

“And now, you can say that you’ve seen inside my head!” Vox joked.

If the cold unfeeling room bothered him, Alastor didn’t show it. He never dared to touch any of it, since he couldn’t tell heads from tails what any of it was. And if his companion ended up stuck with that vintage TV, well that would be tragic! 

“It’s emptier than I thought. That would explain some things.”

“I’ll have you know my mother always told me about how smart I was! Or-- well. She’d say, ‘You’re not stupid, figure it out.’. So I’m an expert on figuring things out.” Vox picked up a tool, beginning his repairs. The example of his ingenuity showed in how he learned to repair a television despite having never even seen the inside of one three years ago! Rather than keeping the back and forth, Alastor bent over Vox’s shoulder, watching him as he worked.

Those hands weren’t the same as a human’s. He had to hold his tools and the parts carefully and even in awkward ways to avoid stripping or damaging them. Most would have resorted to finding an overlord to take care of them at the cost of their soul or some easier way out.Vox was resourceful, and the meticulous notes in the notebook beside him spoke of his drive.

Alastor’s trip to bring him food wasn’t for altruistic reasons. He wanted a better insight into this man he made a deal with. In the twenty years he spent all alone, finding somebody foolish enough to want to team up with him was… charming.

Vox was a wicked man in his own right, but he had standards. He feared him enough to respect him but kept his calm and wit about so that he was still entertaining. The most intriguing was that he was a man whom he didn’t find himself hating. He wouldn’t live up to his mother’s strict standards, the way he slouched in that chair? Truly dreadful. But if Alastor by some twist of fate was born a woman? He was a man he could still take home to meet Mother if they lived at the same time.

There wasn’t a need for further words, simply knowing somebody else was there in the same room felt reassuring somehow. Occasionally Alastor would ask what something was or what it was for, but he was otherwise entertained watching him do something that had become so routine for him. In between tedious steps Alastor paged through the manual, observing the meticulous notes within. The final step was installing the glass. 

“This next part might get a little weird.” Vox warned.

With silent anticipation Alastor watched as Vox reached behind his neck and undid the connections to his current head. The CRT switched off as he pulled the first and largest plug that Alastor would have guessed was his spine. From his neck there was a place where a bundle of cords stuck out from his flesh that were easy to mess when the head was attached. Without eyes to see, Vox’s hands blindly groped at the table until he found his new head and guided it to his neck. Since it was so heavy he had to flip it over and bend over struggling to find the power port. Alastor took the power table from his hand, plugging it into the corresponding port. Vox’s hands then held out a new cable with sixteen pins, gesturing in the general direction.

Unable to give his vocal thanks, Vox gestured with his hands guiding Alastor to plug each cord into its corresponding port. It continued until all cables had found their place. After the CRT had been secured to his neck, the familiar monochrome returned with that dazzling smile that Alastor was fond of. 

“Thanks, Al! That usually takes me a lot longer to do by myself! Is there something more I can do for you, besides finding that record? I hardly feel like it’s enough after you’ve gone this far.”

Hm. Mimzy would have taken all this generosity as a given. Alastor laughed, shaking his head immediately in denial. He’d learned a great deal about his brand new toy and found great entertainment for the afternoon. More than worth the price of admission. 

“The record will be plenty, I assure you! We are friends are we not? Or strictly business partners? I suppose I could draft up a bill.”

“No! No, Friends is great!” Vox answered quickly, smiling from frame to frame. There it was again! The lovely smile. “Hell’s a lonely place when you’re only out for yourself. And to be honest, when you’re not trying to kill me I enjoy your company. But what’s a little attempted murder between friends?” An exaggerated flip of his brows tried to coax another laugh from the deer. No dice, but the pleasant trill of his radio signal returned.

“I never had any intention of killing you the first night, you were far too entertaining with your little gamble. The second… Well, that was a poor misunderstanding. But I’m sure we can avoid any in the near future hm?”

“Deal.”

Vox got up and walked over to another side of the garage. There was a small mirror hanging on the wall, covered in a thin white coating around the edges from the cold. Vox made faces at himself in the mirror. Moments later a picture of stacking blocks reflected then a flurry of static not unlike a snowstorm. At one point a strange little notice flashed on the screen. With the text backwards he couldn’t read any of it, not that he cared to. 

“The deal was to find Overlords, not kill them. I can see why you got angry, and I had no intention of killing her to be honest. The cannibals did that on their own after she… absolutely trounced my ass.”

With that honesty divulged, Vox turned his pretty face to look at his company again. Seems that his repairs were deemed a success, with no small thanks to Alastor’s kind assistance. The use of the crude swear grated on his ear, but a bit of vulgarity here and there was acceptable so long as it wasn’t excessive. 

“And I had thought you had overestimated yourself. You are more powerful than you were a few months ago but you’re still small-time compared to the real movers and shakers of this city.” Alastor reminded him.

“For now, yeah. But I don’t intend to stay that way. By the way, I’ve been thinking. What if I advertised your radio show on my news segment and you did the same to advertise my channel? It could get us more viewers from both ends. If we even have exclusive content such as a dramatic reading for a story that accompanied a movie it would encourage people to tune in for both.”

Krrzt. Alastor’s ears perked. 

“Hmm, the younger crowd is quite intrigued by these little picture boxes aren’t they? Very well! You have a deal. Be sure to get plenty of rest Vox tonight, you’ll find yourself with many new viewers by tomorrow. And I am counting on some new listeners tomorrow evening. I’d hate to be disappointed.” 

“Tomorrow? You don’t waste time do you. Alright! Sure! Tomorrow you’ll have so many new listeners you’ll be questioning your numbers.” Vox spoke with confidence he’d not earned, feeling like one of those do or die moments.

“Good! Now that I know you’re well on the way to recovery I should be on my way. But we’ll do this again. By the way… we have tea with Rosie next Friday at three. Do be sure to attend! Cyril will surely want to thank you in person.” Alastor pushed back his chair, summoning his missing cane to accompany his side as he strolled out of the garage.

“I’ll be there. Thank you for stopping by Al, I appreciate it.”

Alastor was already making his way to the door, but he stopped to spare one last smile before he crossed the threshold. 

“Don’t mention it. I’d hate for Hell to think I have a soft spot. Haha! Why, I’d have to devour them.” Even with the jovial nature of his tune, there was a harsh tremor that followed those words that portrayed a true threat.

Alastor’s departure came with it another reminder of how quiet this little apartment was. Vox wished he could have kept him longer, but there was already a promised day he’d be seeing him again. Next Friday! It’d be good to see Rosie again.

Chapter Text

The ghosts of these people still haunt me

Once they had meant everything to me

Now I’m an outsider looking in

What did I mean to you all, truly?

As promised, the next day Vox found his ratings to take a nice uptick in viewers. Television took a while to take off in Hell. The older sinner’s were slow to adjust to new technology, and the mindset that Television was just a fad was entrenched in their minds. So having Alastor endorse him may have been exactly what was needed to push past some prejudices. Vox in return advertised Alastor’s radio show; which was easy considering he was already a big fan!

The praise he had for the program came right from the heart, and it didn’t hurt that he found the host incredibly attractive. Elegant. Terrifying in a way that made him want to poke the bear even when he really shouldn’t. The banter the two shared was fun, and the way he could make him laugh so easily was charming. Though the man had such a goofy laugh sometimes Vox wanted to laugh at him, rather than with.

After two days out of commission and the day he spent infiltrating; Vox had a lot of work to catch up on that kept him bound to his office until late nights. And he could always hear Alastor on the radio the following night, always mentioning his show again. On the second night, he even complimented Vox himself! Alastor called him charming and funny! All the exhaustion he felt from the day washed from his shoulders, and the smile on his face carried until he went to sleep that night.

He was charming and funny!

With the pep in his step from that one compliment, he poured it all into fulfilling his promise to Alastor! To find one Blue Haze by Miles Davis. It was a record that had only been made in small batches before the company that produced them went bankrupt. Or more accurately recreated the music as best as the recent sinners could in the rare instances a skilled enough musician could. The voices would never be the same, so there were often covers made by different vocalists. Sometimes when the original artist fell to hell, sinners would have already become so used to the cover that they thought it was superior to the original!

Vox ended up calling every record store in the city trying to locate the damn thing, but there was no luck. He’d left them all a number to contact him if one ever showed up with a generous offer if one should turn up. The man had a sneaking suspicion that at least one of those employees or owners would have a copy hidden somewhere for personal use they’d let go of for the right price. His suspicion proved true when a few hours later he was called with a copy that wouldn’t come cheap, naturally. He had never moved out of the office so fast! He almost forgot his hat on his way out!  As a reward for his own ingenuity and his own listening pleasure he grabbed an album by Edith Piaf for himself!

Cyril was a tall lad, standing a head even over Vox and Alastor! A sunny fellow with a warm disposition, handsome too. The same hollow eyes as any other cannibal, dressed dapper in his vest and undershirt, and a cap that rested on top of his dark curly hair. One arm always seemed to be draped around Rosie’s shoulder whenever he had a chance, and when Cyril was sure nobody was looking at him he always had that look in his hollows. A gaze that even embarrassed Rosie whenever she caught it. It was almost embarrassing for Vox to look at for too long. He wasn’t sure if they were newlyweds or just sickeningly in love.

‘It should have been me’, Vox thought.

“Alastor and Vox was it? It’s so good to meet you two! And not to discount you Mr. Radio Demon, you’re a really swell seeming fella! But I’m even more chuffed to bits to be meeting Vox, the man whose the reason I’m so well put together right now!” The giant of a man offered his hand, hesitating for half a moment when he noted that intimidating metal claw. But only for half a breath that made him squeeze the hand firmer than normal. It didn’t wipe the sunny disposition from his face. 

“Huh! You’re like the cold side of a pillow at all times aren’t ya!” Cyril spoke.

Rosie gasped, gently smacking her husband's shoulder. The man in question bashfully turned his head.

“What! It’s a compliment Rosie darling!”

“Telling somebody they have a nice posterior is also a compliment, but it’s still something we don’t say.” Rosie clicked her tongue, carefully smoothing out the man’s sleeve she ruffled in the process.

“I certainly wouldn’t mind if somebody told me that off the cuff.” There was a pause where he hugged Rosie closer to kiss her temple. “I understand, dear. I’m sorry Vox, that was rude of me.”

“No, I get it. My body’s a curious thing down here. That’s one of the nicer things people have said. And you look far more handsome when you’re not in pieces yourself.” Vox held his hands up to motion for him to stop. 

The couple blinked in unison. Alastor broke the silence, covering his mouth with a gloved hand as if that could mask his laughter. Cyril with his good humor joined in. Rosie heaved a little sigh, shaking her head in defeat. If the men could laugh it off, she could let it slide. The tea party had only started. Rosie pulled apart from her husband's arms to beckon the group to follow her outside into the garden. It was a rare spot of green in Hell, which was so sorely missing in life. The woman’s namesake was the star of the show! Multiple rose bushes lined the fence doubling for a little privacy. A gazebo in the middle of the garden already had places set for the four of them.

“Welcome to my Garden dears! This is my favorite place in all of Hell! Do take care not to trample on the plants. I’ve already got us sweets to go with the tea! And something special for you Vox, since this party is in your honor! And no worries dear, no meat as long as you avoid the savory tray.” There was clear pride in Rosie’s face as she stepped ahead of the group. A nervous flat lined smile crawled over Vox’s monochrome screen– wary of this ‘savory plate’.

“Thank you, Rosie. You have a lovely home and garden. I didn’t even know roses could grow in Hell! I figured everything down here would be… I don’t know. Violent?” Vox leaned in a little closer, suspecting the floral blooms. His suspicions were proven correct when one snapped out and tried to latch onto his face. The flat surface had no purchase for the teeth which only clacked against his screen.

“Khzkkrwohr—Biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii.” Vox leaped back, his face turning into the grayscale blocks for half a second. His back ended up colliding against Alastor who held his shoulders and steadied him. Each long digit danced across his shoulders as Alastor leaned in to look at the angry rose.

“I warned you sweetheart! Don’t trample on the plants! They bite!” Rosie called out her warning, already halfway up the Gazebo. Her hands gripping her skirts while she shook her head in disapproval. At least nobody was hurt.

“How lovely! I take it you don’t need to worry about thieves making off with them.” Alastor commented. The deer’s face snapped, admiring the look of his own reflection in the glass of the dark screen he peered over. “And that was a HIGHLY entertaining noise! Haha! Wonders never cease with you chum.”

“Sure don’t, dear! They feed my rose bushes.” Rosie answered with a delighted giggle. The men followed behind the hostess, stepping onto the gazebo. Officially it was a tea party, but the coffee had been prepared to Vox’s surprise. Having been a slave to the drink for years to be able to tolerate the late nights, he found it preferable. Vox’s mystery about the Savory Plate was solved. There was a sampling of what looked like pinky fingers, eyeballs in a ramekin filled with a thin layer of blood, and cuts of meat that Vox wasn’t sure he wanted to identify. It had done the opposite of inspiring an appetite and he took the seat furthest from it. Alastor sat beside him. Rosie and Cyril sat across from them, with Rosie leading into revealing the grand surprise! 

The plate of lemon cookies next to it almost felt far too innocent and cute. A silver tray hid the last item, and drew Vox and Alastor’s curiosity. Alastor snatched one of the fingers in a not-so-satisfying crunch, putting it out of mind for the time being. Once everyone was settled, Rosie pulled back the tray, revealing a cake! In light blue text it read, ‘For our Hero, Vox!’

The man was quite used to being the center of attention, but this level of gratitude made Vox fidget in his seat. So many eyes on him, so many terrifying smiles that all have eaten a man! To brush away that sobering thought he rubbed the back of his neck, thankful he was half machine for once. Once everyone started to eat and drink though, he was able to relax and even found himself enjoying the company. Alastor was naturally charming to both of the cannibals. He and Rosie got along like two siblings separated at birth.

Cyril had brought himself a book to read, looking content to soak in the atmosphere and sneak a finger or a cookie occasionally. Vox listened. When he felt like he had something poignant to add to the conversation he chimed in. It was a gentle, peaceful afternoon. Something once rare, but becoming far more common for Vox.

“As wonderful as this has all been Rosie, dear. I must ask...” Alastor broke the light-hearted conversation, after satisfying his appetite. “Now that Vespera is gone… who is filling the power vacuum?”

Rosie’s hollowed eyes widened. Her mouth formed a perfect oh in exclamation as a dainty gloved hand avoided something as uncouth as Alastor seeing the inside of her mouth! She was a lady after all!

“I can’t believe it slipped my mind!” A wicked pair of teeth formed a toothy smile. “Meet Cannibal Town’s newest Overlord! After rallying everyone together against Vespera, they’ve collectively and willingly gave their souls over to me for the sake of protecting this town! I hope that doesn’t make us enemies now!” Her lashes fluttered, hoping to coax the boys to oblige.

“Oh, heavens no! I’m quite good on territory. I satisfy my hunger wherever it leads me. And Vox already has his hands full maintaining his own. Don’t you?” Alastor answered first before Vox could answer. The demon’s red gaze turned to his partner, feeling almost like a threat.

“Entertainment’s my game, not Cannibalism. This town’s all yours Rosie. But I may try to win over your people with my fun new shows and awe-inspiring television.” Vox tugged on his jacket, trying to inspire confidence in the woman of his harmlessness. By all means it seemed victorious with how much brighter her smile became.

“I’m so glad to hear it! Can I get either of you more coffee? Snacks? You cleaned that plate Alastor! If you were hungry you should have let me know ahead of time! I would have made you something more filling!”

“Oh no, don’t fret your pretty little head about it, Rosie. Please take it as my compliments for everything you prepare being so delicious. I fear if I eat any more I might put on a couple of pounds! A tragedy, when I only got this suit.” A hand was pressed over his chest, as he declined Rosie’s offer.

“Well, suit yourself darling. And you Vox, you hardly have had a bite at all! Do you not like it?” Rosie intentionally pulled the otherwise reticent Vox into the conversation.

“The cake was enough sweets for me. I’m not a big fan of them, to be honest. And I’m on a diet from Sinner Flesh. Doesn’t sit in the stomach well, wouldn’t you know?”

“Fair enough. Such a picky eater, I’ll have to get some snacks special for you next time. And there will be a next time you two! I have GOT to tell you about what Brenda did next time Alastor! You will not believe your ears.”

“Oh, you MUST tell! And you have to tell me more about this… Susan. She sounds like a downright… well you know.” The promise of ‘tea’ caused the fluffy ears on Alastor’s head to twitch with unfiltered excitement. Something Vox secretly found cute.

The party continued until it had grown so dark the street lights flipped on. The four spent a little longer indoors with Alastor and Rosie washing the dishes together. Cyril led Vox over to look over a few of his favorite paintings. There were some odd and tacky ones that contrasted hard with the otherwise lovely antique furniture. Cyril’s favorite was a sailboat, a mainstay that reminded him of the time he ate his crew when they got stranded at sea.

“Been meaning to ask, what IS that darn thing on your head anyway! Never seen anything like it.” Cyril motioned over Vox’s noggin. With one claw tucked away in his pocket, Vox leaned against the couch and supported his body with one hand clutching the back.

“It’s a television. With radio signals it can display an image with motion on it. Kind of like my face right now! Only it can show people on it. I actually work at a broadcasting station where I tell the Morning news and film movies and shows.” Vox gesticulated with his hands, slipping into his showman’s persona with ease trying to sell the pitch!

“Dang! Now that just sounds like magic to me! So your saying Alastor here makes you work?” Cyril indicated to his face– and for a moment a light color flashed over his face nearly masking the freckles underneath his eyes. Vox gaped, struggling with the answer for some time before he begrudgingly answered,

“Yes and no. Alastor doesn’t produce ALL the radio signals in Hell, but if he wanted to he could easily fuck me over and anyone else who ran a television station.” Which made the nature of their power dynamic even more insanely lopsided. Exactly the way Alastor liked it! Cyril sucked on his teeth. Relationships with such wide power gaps weren’t exactly rare, it was like Vox was on a leash without a formal contract. A pitying smile showed on the other cannibal's face as he clapped his new friend's shoulder.

“I’ll have to check it out! I always liked them radio soaps! But I can’t really imagine people in my head that well? Having a picture will make it much easier for me to keep up.”

The thumbs up and honest smile eased Vox genuinely. Something about the lad had a soothing effect. Alastor, Rosie, and himself always had something to hide, lurking beneath the surface. Cyril was pure and honest in a way that was unlike anything in Hell, which was a… healing presence.

“Thanks Cyril. You’ll have to tell me if you have any favorites.”

After Alastor satisfied what he felt was his obligation, the two decided to walk home together until their paths diverged. Which happened to take quite a while as Vox discovered. Alastor was in great spirits after the party, humming old-timey tunes he found himself not uncomfortable with the silence between the two. Before he realized it, Vox found himself staring at that profile that bobbed about to and fro with genuine joy.

“Is there something on my face dear?” Alastor broke the long silence on the walk home. His smile stretched a little more as he turned his head. It brought a smile to Vox’s face without realizing it.

“Just noticing that you looked like you had a great time with Rosie. You get along really well with her.”

“She’s delightful! My mother would be enchanted if she got to meet her! I can see why you tried your luck attempting to charm her on your first meeting! You could do much worse. Beautiful, witty, a fantastic cook, and that darling laugh! Her husband is quite a doll as well. A stoic fellow, but I prefer a man who knows when to listen rather than speak.”

A light gray color crawled across Vox’s screen beneath his eyes, antennae sparking with surprise. Vox opened his mouth to speak when Alastor interrupted him.

“Rosie told me about it the first time we had tea! By all accounts, she was charmed by your attempts. And what of your impressions?”

Alastor leaned in, getting in so close their shoulders brushed. The sudden touch of a warm body against his cold frame only made the color on his face intensify until it became a near white. The man’s face was also awfully close, making it hard for him to ignore the way his heart raced. Guilt ate up at him inside, mentally chastising the way he had such filthy feelings for a man who treated him with nothing but kindness.

“I can see why Rosie is so fond of Cyril. As you said, he doesn’t speak a lot but when he does; he’s a really nice fella. Rare in Hell. He asked about my head and about television in general so I gave him a crash course. He said he wanted to watch movies and shows with Rosie. I don’t know what women actually like but I should ask a few of them to get an idea.”

“I could introduce you to Mimzy one of these days! A bold and lively woman, I trust she’d tell you exactly what you might need! I don’t watch the picture shows often, but I did watch you on the news the past couple of nights. I might even say I enjoy hearing you relate the news in that charming voice of yours over the newspaper!” Alastor hummed, giving Vox the space he needed. But he did lament losing that warmth.

Vox laid a claw over his throat, closer to a bundle of wires than anything else. Charming voice. It made the heat on his face far more apparent, and he was sure by now Alastor must have noticed how flushed his face felt. At least there was a nice breeze blowing from the south. A shame it also carried the smell of… well ignorance was bliss. 

“You watched my show…?”

“Is that surprising?” Alastor knit his brows together.

It was always a struggle to get his mother to pay attention to him. When he tried to show her the stories he wrote it was always later, she was busy. But she was always busy and that time never came. When he starred in plays at school she was always too busy to attend, when Vox knew she had only intended to stay home and listen to radio dramas. She paid far more attention to that box than she ever did him. So when he became a News Anchor, Vox was sure she’d finally notice him. But somebody else always did it better, or his network had some pet peeve she didn’t like.

His bow had been crooked, his suit wasn’t pressed, the makeup needed more work, and he stuttered on this line. One of the women looked ‘too gay’, it was too bright, the news was boring. It became a self-defeating cycle and TV was no longer fun. 

He didn’t even ask Alastor to watch his show. The man seemed to have no interest at all in his medium; but he still watched it.

“What did… you think?”

“I complimented it now, didn’t I? I liked it! You know exactly how to keep an audience engaged, never a boring moment on screen with you so animated on the screen! The little personality you take on is quite charming as well!”

The sense of validation he felt in that moment was addictive. The illumination of his screen became a little bit brighter, the monochrome eyes widened with each brush nurturing the bruised ego he had. For a man who was so confident it was… like ambrosia.

“When you speak praise so plainly like that, it’s embarrassing. Especially because I’ve always been such a big fan of your broadcasts!” The way that Alastor’s smile tugged at the ends for a moment caused Vox’s electronic heart to skip a beat.

“I recall you mentioning that before. It speaks to your good tastes. Anyway…”  Alastor stopped at a fork in the road, taking a graceful bow with his announced intent to leave. “This is where we must part ways! But you do have a good night, Vox.”

It had felt so sudden, even if it wasn’t. Vox’s home was only a couple blocks away, and before he knew it there was this expectation that Alastor would simply come all the way. Maybe for a drink or two then be on his merry way.

“Wait, before you go. If you have time, could you stop by my apartment for a minute? I cleaned your dish and have something else I wanted to give you.” The record was sitting on the coffee table, waiting for the one it was meant for.

“I am afraid I’ll have to pass tonight! Something urgent needs attending to! But this will hardly be the last time we meet.” Alastor tapped the side of Vox’s head, trying to turn that frown on his face back around. “Now now! Smile, you’re never fully dressed without one. It’s a powerful tool for an Overlord! To embolden one's allies, strike fear into their enemies, and keep everyone guessing. Let’s see it.”

A metallic claw clicked against his screen. Vox hadn’t even noticed that he stopped smiling. There was no reason to be sad they were parting tonight, Vox had a feeling he was going to be stuck with the other man for some time still. The smile returned, genuinely stretched until it covered half his screen. The radio signal trilled with delight.

“Splendid! Bonne nuit mon ami!” With a flick of his hand, Alastor stepped back and disappeared into the shadows. The emptiness that Alastor left with him felt all the more profound for how abruptly he’d left the space.

“Good night Alastor.”

Chapter Text

I was born alone,

And I suspected that you were the same.

The world had no need for either of us

As long as we had each other,

We were never alone

Several days passed with the only communication between Vox and Alastor happening at the end of their shows. The record Vox had hoped to pass off sat waiting on his coffee table along with the casserole dish clean as a whistle. Alastor knew where Vox lived, but the Radio Demon had not returned that favor. The whole relationship was in his hands, and both knew that was intentional. Vox didn’t spend that time idle, his end of the bargain had not been fulfilled because of one toppled Overlord. 

Krrzzt--

On the fourth evening after the party when Vox had started to get some clues about another Overlord in the Doomsday District. One who was quite fond of turning that doom on the souls they owned. Finishing work early meant several sacrifices, but Vox felt triumphant when he closed up before it was dark. All those plans fell apart when he spun around and found Alastor standing right behind him, neck outstretched and bent in odd places like a creature out of a nightmare.

“GKLSHEIROHES—skshhh---”

As his heart rate rocketed to the triple digits, Vox’s screen faded into grayscale blocks, with a claw clutched onto the door behind him. When the TV Overlord finally came to, Alastor was laughing so hard his eyes had gone cross-eyed again with tears cresting in the corner of his eyes. Vox clutched his chest over his non-existent racing heart, breathlessly starting to join him.

“What the hell asshole! If I had one, you would have given me a heart attack! I didn’t hear you at all!” While Vox did feel the signal, he wasn’t expecting Alastor to scare the living DAYLIGHTS out of him.

The deer had to gasp for fits of air, hand clutching his cane tightly. He leaned forward, using it as a support while still far too busy laughing his head off. “Yeah yeah, laugh it up chuckle-nuts.” Vox rolled his technicolor eyes, folding his arms across his chest while he waited for him to get it all out. Alastor delicately wiped the tears from his eye, even removed this monocle to make it easier. When done, he wiped the monocle on the inside of his blazer and put it back on his face.

“I could not resist my dear. You truly do make the most amusing face!. I’ve seen many frozen in terror, but that is a new one!” The cannibal's brows knit his smile stretching at the seams. A heat came over Vox’s face, bringing a light blue color crawling across his screen.

“Well, the face you make when you laugh like that isn’t flattering either. You should see yourself.” Against his better judgment, Vox took a deep breath and went cross-eyed, stretching his smile as wide as he could. An unsettling silence settled between them. Alastor stared, waiting for Vox to finish his farce. The cold chill in the air had Vox trying to back-peddle.

“Ahaha- uh, I may have been exaggerating-” Vox rubbed his arm, unable to keep eye contact with the pupils that started to reflect dials. His attempts to soothe things over were halted when a hand clapped his shoulders.

“Utterly delightful! A master of charades, will you ever cease to amaze with your talents?”

When the fear of death had given way to relief, Vox’s back hit the door. A cyan claw rubbed against his frame. “If you keep complimenting me like this I’m going to suspect there’s more you’re after than a record. Is it my soul?” With the courage to finally stand on his own feet again, Vox pulled on his jacket and sweater to fix his appearance.

“Your soul would be lovely. If I flatter you enough, will you hand it to me?”

“No.”

Alastor clicked his tongue, pressing his hand against his chest. “Can’t blame a demon for trying, hmm? Do let me know if you change your mind. You would be correct however, I did come to ask for something.” There was a dangerous look in his half-lidded eyes, giving Vox only enough time to wonder until he mentioned his face. “Accompany me tonight on my rounds! Have I sufficiently charmed you to join me this evening? Or shall I try harder?”

“Maybe a little. Try telling me how handsome I am.” Vox joked. He understood that his ridiculous electronic head would turn most away. Even he would laugh at the idea of finding somebody with a fucking TV for a head as ‘handsome’. And yet, Alastor found a way to convince him otherwise.

A red fingertip ran against the side of Vox’s frame, the thumb tracing down touching the edge of the screen. Instantly a pure white blush came over Vox’s face, mouth agape unsure how to process a man flirting with him in broad daylight. Alastor of all people! There weren’t any nerves on his frame, but he could still watch the hand slide down his ‘face’ and back up to trace one of his antennae. Even when a jolt of lightning jumped to his finger, Alastor only yanked his hand back by the physiological reaction. Then put his hand right back without fear when more electricity started to course through his arm.

If Vox could stop it he would, but there were some functions that were still physiological like his blushing. “Al, stop! That has to hurt!” His protest came out weak. Partially because he was still in shock, partially because he didn’t truly want this to end. Alastor continued as if it didn’t hurt a bit, Alastor even seemed almost charmed.

“It hardly hurts. Why, I’d go so far as to say it tickles. The most beautiful roses all have thorns, Vox. Let it prick and bloody my hands and I’ll admire it all the more.”

Vox’s heart would be doing literal flips, if he had one. Even with Alastor looking ridiculous with his hair standing on end from being electrocuted earlier; he looked gorgeous. Vox wished he could have the courage to kiss him then and there. Vox was starting to regret this joke. “I’ll go! I’ll go! Stop before people start getting the wrong idea about us!”

Alastor’s hand snatched away from his antennae, settling behind his back with a smug satisfied grin on his face. While the Overlord was not vulnerable to such things as flirtations and lust he was more than aware of the way he had that effect on people. That control was delicious, and Vox’s weakness to him despite being another man was… flattering. 

“Wonderful! Then we’ll leave right away! You look perfect as you are.”

Again with missing another opportunity to give him the damn record. At some point, Vox was going to think he was avoiding it. 

“Fine, lead the way.”

With one hand hovering over Vox’s back, Alastor guided his companion to join him. There was a twinkle in Alastor’s eyes, mischievous and flagrantly ignoring ALL sense of personal space as his cheek pressed against the wooden frame of Vox’s head. Alastor’s shadow came out to play too, its cold misty hands draping over his shoulders mirroring its master. A nervous smile stretched across Vox’s screen, fearing for his life.

“Tonight we’re going to have you kill your first man!” Alastor announced joyfully, clapping the back of the other man so hard it sent him nearly tripping over his own feet. “And I don’t mean the poison, indirect methods are nothing compared to getting the blood on your own hands! No, if you don’t end the night without your lovely screen smeared in blood? I’ll have you kill again!”

“Is there… some point to murdering a guy just because?” Vox asked, lifting an electronic brow. The press of Alastor’s cheek did not HELP how self-conscious he already felt. The demon’s body was like an inferno compared to his own frigid body, like the fires of Hell burned in his core.

Alastor slow blinked one eye after the other.

“Why for ENTERTAINMENT my boy! And to show all those little cretins hiding within the gaps of your dear home who is truly in charge.” There was such force in the smack that followed, Vox was sent barreling forward half a step. “If an Overlord can’t show a little ruthlessness, everyone will do everything they can to walk all over you! Best to nip it all in the bud so they know you’ll have no issues pulling them inside out!”

The radio signal buzzed with unbridled joy, the clasp of that hand that still refused to let go of Vox’s shoulder hugged him so tight the cherry-tipped fingers dug into his flesh. It may as well be Christmas with the way Alastor was lit up with the prospect.

“Well, I’ve killed twelve people already. What’s… one more? This will be easy.” Vox reassured himself. “How are we going to choose which man we’re killing tonight anyway?”

Alastor hummed, not answering the question as he silently bade Vox to follow him around a corner. The streets were quiet with most of the town having learned long ago to give Alastor a wide berth. The last Overlord who tried to take over the territory still had a few limbs hanging on the telephone wires that hadn’t been picked clean yet. One of the poles was decorated like a macabre Christmas tree, covered in maggots and birds picking at the sickly pinkish display with gluttonous abandon. Vox felt so thankful he didn’t have a nose when he wandered past it, but he didn’t appreciate the display the way Alastor had.

There was no rhyme or reason to the path they took, none that Vox could understand anyway. Vox dared to break the silence, finding it positively unnerving when every pair of eyes was a potential sacrifice for his growth. The silence and scampering of feet was making him more unnerved.

“When did you kill your first man, Alastor?”

The overlord’s head twisted 180 degrees to look behind him. Vox nearly jumped out of his shoes with his arms thrown out in terror blaring an unintelligible noise from his speakers.It wasn’t even the first time Alastor had pulled such a stunt, but it still scared the shit out of him every time.

“Oh DON’T be so dramatic Vox!” Alastor cackled. Alastor’s head snapped back into place as he raised both arms in a flourish indulging in one of humanity’s favorite past-times: Talking about himself! “Why-- I was only a boy myself! A man made quite the offensive statement about my mother and I caught him while he was deep in his cups. He didn’t know which way was up! Stuck him like a pig then fed his body to the gators. I couldn’t have been more than… yea high?”

Alastor’s hand held out flat, reaching out to about halfway down his upper thigh. If Vox was to make a guess, it was roughly the size of a prepubescent child. Early teens maybe. Alastor seemed so nonchalant about this baffling truth, meanwhile, Vox felt like his whole world was spinning.

“So young… What made you want to kill?”

“What made me want to kill?” Alastor found the question puzzling. Enough so he had to stop. “Same reason I listen to music, dance, drink, or even do my radio show’s. It brings me joy and fulfillment, there’s nothing quite like the rush of power one feels overpowering the wicked monsters who prey on the helpless of this world. To hunt the monsters lurking in the shadows.” There was something wistful in Alastor’s eyes as he watched a pair of sinners scurry into the shadows. A pair of women, probably two of the helpless as he described.

“Those who prey on the helpless. Are you a monster who hunts monsters then, Alastor?”

The ruby glow of Alastor’s eyes became more prominent, contrasting against the twilight as it swallowed the day. “Indeed. What good is prey that cannot fight back? The wicked should not rest peacefully, Vox. Even you are not safe– If I find that you use our bargain for ill purposes.”

There was an ice cold promise in those words, one that Vox felt certain he meant from the bottom of his soul. Vox’s body always felt frozen, but those words still made him shiver as if he’d been dropped into the icy lake of legend in Dante’s Inferno.

“Then what is a good purpose to become an Overlord? Anyone who tells me they’re an Overlord for a good reason is obviously selling me something.”

The blunt answer shocked Alastor, but he was pleased in the best of ways.

“So you’re self-aware. You’d be surprised at the number of starry eyed men and women who proclaim to do it to protect others. Unfortunately that doesn’t make you any better.” Alastor laughed. “What is YOUR reason then, Vox?”

Vox kicked a nearby pebble, sending it skidding across the concrete. It bounced multiple times until it smacked into a discarded bottle, resounding with a tink. A thin dark trail ran down the slight incline of what had to be cheap alcohol.

“I want… to feel enough.” Vox’s thin voice was nearly drowned out by the acrid wind, carrying with it an ill smell from the plentiful death and decay. “If I’m powerful, famous, rich I figure… y’know what’s what everyone could possibly want right? I’ll feel satisfied. It seemed to work for you.”

How pitiful. How sad! Alastor could not relate or empathize at all, the whine of his radio signal became a single note, head cocked at an angle.

“I was already strong when I fell, Vox. And what I do is not for fame or fortune, haha! I cannot imagine such worthless things to bring me joy either! What worth do the opinions of cowardly sheep possess? What good is the love of simpletons? No, I’d much rather have their fear! It’s far more… decadent.” Arched fingers elongated as the branches atop Alastor’s head grew. The once dark red pupils darkened into an inky black dial that rapidly fluctuated.

It felt as if everything Vox knew had suddenly turned on its head. A man who cared nothing for how others thought of him? Or if they even liked him? There was nothing he COULD say to that, as the question of what would make him feel satisfied started to seep into his mind.

The silence did not last long.

A loud bang resounded from the building beside them from the top floor. It was loud enough to stop Vox’s feet, but Alastor kept going on. Moments glass shattered as a woman was sent hurtling through the window. Vox acted quickly, moving before his mind could catch up. A fox sinner fell into his arms, the impact sending Vox’s body forward from the sudden force with his muscles screaming from the weight.

“SERVES YOU RIGHT YOU DUMB CUNT!” Another sinner popped his head out moments later, a shrew by the looks of it wearing a bowler hat. The fox in Vox’s arms gasped for air, hand clutching her chest as she owlishly stared at her savior. As soon as the two locked eyes she screamed, smacking her palm against his screen and his shoulders.

“LET ME GO! FREAK! FREAK!”

Vox hastily set the woman back on her feet, taking several steps back with his hands up to show he was harmless. The shrew above rasped with laughter, his body bent over the frame with a mocking finger pointed at Vox.

“Such a mighty cunt she can’t even say thank you to the bloke who saved her head from cracking on the pavement like a walnut!” Meanwhile, the vixen herself tugged at her dress to pull up the sleeves that had gone askew taking a second look at Vox. A vivid color crawled up her neck, and she immediately bowed her head.

“I’m so so sorry! I thought you were somebody else!” 

From above a shoe was thrown, hitting the pavement with a harsh smack barely missing the woman’s head and instead smacking against Vox’s foot. A vivid pain shot through his whole system with a curse barely held back through angered mumbled.

Despite her earlier cries for him to let her go, the woman ran behind Vox hiding behind him. The small hands on Vox’s back made him stand ramrod straight, with his desperate gaze toward Alastor who at this point was watching the scene unfold with that usual stoic smile.Great, seems he was reduced to human shield. Lovely.

“Oi, freak face. Now you’re trying to make a move on my girl? Well… can fucking take her, she’s a fat fucking slut anyway. Vagina’s so fucking loose you could run a subway through it.” The shrew called out flashing the trio a middle finger. Crooked yellow teeth peeked from beneath the long nose.

“Fuck you Jerry! You’re just angry my thumb’s bigger than your dick!” The vixen yelled back.She ventured past the sinner shield to throw a middle finger the shrew’s way, and when he poked his head out to throw both his back at her, Alastor struck. A black tentacle stretched out from his back whipping forward so quickly it wrapped around Jerry’s neck before he could react. An unflattering noise wheezed out from the lowlife as it entangled around his limbs. Constricting around his legs, arms, coiling around his neck until he sputtered his last breath.

A second tentacle whipped out catching him by the foot so the other could disentangle and hang the man upside down by his singular foot. The ratty brown coat the shrew wore flipped inside out dragging against the concrete.Jerry wheezed for air, coughing out his lungs immediately after.

“FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK! I’m sorry, alright?! Please don’t kill me! I’ll give ya whatever you want! Is it money? Alice? Take her! I lied about the subway pussy. It’s very nice and tight, A+ like smooth velvet that hugs you in all the right places-- harggrrfhkhs” A tentacle shoved itself into his gabber, wriggling down his throat and cutting off his airways completely yet again. Alastor’s right eye twitched, repulsed by the man’s way of talking about a lady. Tears came cresting down from Jerry’s eyes.

“A NOISY little fella isn’t he?” Alastor asked, waving the pointed end of his mic around the now gagged mouth. The Radio Demon paced around the now bound man snapping his heels together as he turned to face Vox, the rounded end of his staff smacking against the shrew’s belly. “Kill him.”

Thud.

The writhing inky black mass untangled save for one that retained a hold on his ankle as Alastor unceremoniously dropped him right on the pavement. Jerry gasped for air, squeezing his throat as each breath threatened to burst his lungs. Glistening amber eyes turned on the man whose life he now depended on. Frozen in disbelief, Vox could only stare while the voices around him sounded like they were deep underwater. The woman’s voice echoed in his ear, but he couldn’t make out whatever it was Alastor or her was saying.

His entire world became narrowed in on those two large amber eyes wet and shining with globs of tears falling in streaks down his furred cheek. The shrew crawled forward, tugging and grasping at his pant leg, his mouth forming words but only one was made out from the motion of his lips.

“Oi, ya don’t gotta listen to that cunt alright? Tell em’ no!”

“Flat face you listening?! Tell the radio fuck that this joke is going too far yeah? Me and the gal were just fighting, it happens! Tell em’ Alice”.

“Yeaaah no, this is what you get for cheating on me, and for talking to me like a disgusting creep. Bye.”

With her hand thrown up, the vixen backed away from her place of safety behind Vox and quickly strolled down the street. Likely to escape watching the oncoming bloody death that was awaiting her ex.

Each of Alastor’s hands laid over the microphone, his gaze keeping a vigil on Vox waiting for him to follow his command. There were no words, only that impassive smile that kept on while Jerry tugged on Vox’s pants, pleading with him.

"You have to believe me! I caught Alice cheating on me and I just... started to see red! I was mad and upset and before I knew it I tossed her out a window. This is Hell though, yeah? She woulda regenerated! She would be fine! I can give you money, money's what you want right?" Filthy hands tugged on Vox's pants once more, a combination of snot and tears had mixed on the filthy face staring up at him. A wordless croak forced through Vox's throat.

Kill him? But how?

The metal joints in Vox's hands rattled, unable to settle as he reached into his pocket. The closest thing he could call a weapon inside was a key. Pinched between his pointer and thumb finger his pixelated gaze turned over Jerry looking for someplace he could jam it to end it quickly. So he wouldn't have to watch him suffer and scream. The throat was the first place he thought of, but then what? That moment of indecision was enough for Jerry to smack the key right out of his hand.

"Look! I'll apologize! You're upset I insulted the dame right?" The shrew tried to bargain next with Alastor who had grown so bored of the conversation he was staring at his fingertips. The filter-laced hum echoed when the directed voice made him aware he was being spoken to. The eerie radio dial smile glowed.

"Oh! THAT!" Alastor laughed, pressing his fingertips against his chest. "I admit I found that distasteful! Would you like to hear the REAL reason I want you dead?”

Jerry nodded.

“Because you seemed like such a squealer! And I was correct, you should listen to yourself begging for your life so pathetically. In fact, I’ll show you!" With a snap of his fingers, Alastor conjured a mirror from the depths of a realm Vox couldn't be sure of, turning the reflective surface in front of the shrew's face. The finality of his fate dawned on him, lips quivering when he realized that the more he struggled and cried for his like; the more Alastor would want to claim it.

A cold sobriety of a prey knowing that it was now in the predator's jaws settled on him. Before acceptance would come though, he was ready to struggle. And struggle he did! While Vox wavered with indecision, he struck fast and hard. HIs smaller body collided against the dazed wanna-be Overlord, thumbs jammed into the bundle of wires that made up his neck. The cold concrete smacked hard against Vox's back as his whole world became topsy-turvy. The back of his head thudded with his vision becoming pixelated and blurry with the only sight he could make was the enraged fury of a man attempting to save his own life.

Vox swiped his hands with claws extended aimed directly for Jerry’s face. The deadly points sliced through flesh, lips, and nose with ease leaving an ugly gash from the bottom of his ear to the bottom of his jaw. Pieces of the shrew's lip and nose clung to his edged fingers, warm and sticky with his blood.

Both screamed in unison as the shrew beat his fist against Vox’s screen. Merciless thick glass sent tremors through the shrew’s bones along with regret. Jerry aimed for the chest next, muffled by the thick sweater he wore and unusually firm body. The strike was unsatisfying and he aimed for speed and a number of blows to make up for it.

Vox caught Jerry’s right fist, digging his fingers into the man’s vulnerable flesh until it bit through nerves and tendons. Fresh blood ran down Vox’s hands in rivulets, trailing down his wrist and beneath the sleeves up his arm. He didn't stop there. Vox threw his prey to the side, straddling the shrew's hips as his instincts took over. One metallic fist rained down upon the sliced face after another leaving bloody cuts that only the bone beneath could withstand. Jerry’s clumsy hands stretched out trying to catch and cushion the raining fists hanging uselessly in place until his consciousness faded into nothing. 

They then both fell flat against the concrete but Vox didn't stop! A high had taken over, with his whole world focused on the feeling of his fists sinking further and further. The sound of the current in his head grows louder and louder until it becomes... deafening. Only the lifeless jerk of the impact diffused through the victim’s body reacted any longer.

It was only when the skull cracked and broke beneath and his fist became cushioned by the soft innards of a tongue and brain matter that he stopped. Air rushed in through Vox’s lungs, and an intense chill of his body didn't match how burning HOT he felt on the inside. The fans furiously ran trying to cool down his body as his mind struggled to make sense of the matter clinging to his knuckles. Or question why it didn't even hurt.

"Bravo! Bravo Vox! You didn't hold back at all once you got started, there's nothing I dislike more than a half-assed performance. Something like taking a life should always be done with passion! Now..." Alastor yanked Vox up by the back of his coat, helping him to his feet even as his limbs felt like jelly. Immediately his legs locked up and he would have fallen if Alastor had not clutched his shoulders and kept him upright. Even when Alastor’s face came close enough to his screen that Vox could feel his breath; Vox didn't react. He felt numb, with the events that happened running through his head again and again and again. "HELLO?! Anyone home?"

Thunk thunk.

Alastor's palm smacked the side of his head trying to snap Vox out of it. Vox leapt in place, his screen covered in a snowstorm of static for several seconds before those large bug-like eyes returned. His mouth flapped open and closed multiple times, with no words or thoughts coming to him. He blinked several times and finally looked at his still crimson-coated fingers. The sight immediately gave him heebie-jeebies, shaking his hands to shake off any remaining viscera. The light-hearted laughter of the Radio Demon rang in his head as he was pulled close. The warm soft cheek of the Overlord pressed into the side as he joined in looking at the beaten skull that was Vox's handiwork.

"I'd give that an... eight out of ten! You were QUITE thorough but I have to dock some points for how much you neglected to mutilate the REST of the body. A few gashes here and there; nothing lethal mind you to heighten his fear before you BEAT his bloody lights out? As I said though, it's good. For a beginner." Alastor's palm smacked against Vox's backside. Ricocheting dark gray pupils panned over to meet with Alastor's brilliant scarlet. The pixelated smile came out crooked with breathy nervous giggles spilling loose.

Alastor wasn't only just powerful and scary as a means to an end. This WAS fun for him. Not only a means to terrify people into obeying. The brutal way he devoured Grizz, the decorated powerline, and the admiration of a caved in skull like a piece of art. This man was utterly insane and sadistic!

"Regretting your decision yet, Vox?" Alastor whispered. A closed-lip grin rose over the deer’s face, the cage of his arm around Vox's shoulder locking him in place so he could see him squirm in real time once he realized the trap he put himself into. Vox was stunned, terrified, but regret strangely was not what he was feeling. What Vox felt in that moment was a rush, a feeling he’d touched upon something as otherly as him.

"As long as I remain useful, you’ll keep me alive right?"

The answer surprised Alastor, so much so that he had no idea what to say for half a second. There was fear in those tiny dark gray pinpoints, a wobble to his smile, and he naturally lowered his head to be below him. This was a submission, but Vox did not run.

"Useful AND entertaining. I won't bother keeping anything around that's boring. It's bad for showbiz." A cherry-tipped finger poked at the blood smear on Vox's screen, a gesture that sent a rush of electricity through his prongs and a new force of life to those fans running inside his body. "That says nothing about regret, however."

"Touché. I confess I'm terrified of you, but my curiosity far outstrips that."

"Curiosity?" Alastor laughed. "So you're a fool?"

"I.. prefer the term risk taker! You're what we call a high-risk, high-reward! You terrify the shit out of me, I’ll be honest. But, you're also something unique. The way you see the world, the things you do, I want to understand it. To understand you. I want to see this garden you cultivate, Alastor. Who knows, we might end up growing some blue roses." A forced cheesy grin forced its way onto Vox's screen. There was a vague thought about how inhuman he must be to be having a conversation not even five feet from a man he just killed. He had to keep reminding himself this was an everyday occurrence in Hell. This was his new normal!

"Blue roses?" Alastor asked, puzzled.

"They don't exist. You can find many other flowers in blue but not roses which already come in so many colors. It's weird right? So they're like a myth! With you, it feels like the impossible becomes possible." Vox gesticulated, trying to shake off the nerves he felt and remaining viscera clinging to his claws.

If there was one thing Alastor adored, it was when others put him on a pedestal! The buzz of his radio signal became more energetic as he adjusted the bowtie on his collar.

"Well, I do not know about any blue roses! But I... do have a fondness for cultivating certain wicked blooms. Who knows, maybe we'll grow one yet Vox. But for tonight? We should celebrate your great achievement! To the Flagrant Flapper! My treat!"

Alastor found it endearing that a mere sinner might endeavor to understand a God! Yet there was a part of him that felt happy to hear those words, a silent wish that the man's desire to know him was genuine and not some underhanded attempt to win his favor for his own sake. If not, he would soon have regrets. If another could see the world as he did… his life would be la vie en rose.

Now if only roses didn’t wither at his touch…

Chapter Text

Fuck Mimzy.

Never liked her.

The Flagrant Flapper. The storefront was headed with a silhouette of a woman kicking her leg out and bedazzled with lights. The sound of jazz music was so loud it could be heard from out in the streets, louder whenever a guest passed in or out from the doors. Several couples walked in draped arm in arm with animated smiles and healthy color on their cheeks, inspired by an evening of dancing and drinking.

The interior felt like walking back in time when Vox was in his twenties and at the height of his skirt-chasing days. Flappers on the stage, lively jazz music, couples on the dance floor, and people sitting at the bar having lively conversations. Alastor’s signal was more exuberant than he’d ever experienced, as the man was now truly in his element. He hummed along with the music, spinning around in the entrance to face Vox.

“Can’t have you meeting a lady looking like this!” Alastor quipped.

He brushed off a bit of gore that still clung to the lapels of his coat and conjured a handkerchief to wipe up and remove the blood that smeared over his screen. It was slightly damp, creating a thin wider layer that required several pass overs until the screen was immaculate. The clothes he tugged on to get a better look at the mustard yellow sweater beneath. When he saw that the sweater was clean he attempted to tug it off but Vox tugged his arm back pulling his coat snug back on his body.

“I’d rather not take off my jacket if that’s O.K.”

The once pleasant signal went flat as Alastor’s hands slowly fell. The slight he felt for being rejected tempered what would have been his wonderful mood, but he was hardly the type of cad to forcibly undress somebody against their will.

“Very well, it’s not as if blood is anything new to any woman anywhere.”

Pushing aside that momentary unpleasantness, Alastor approached one of the shorter women who was currently engrossed in a conversation with another gentleman. He only had to tap her shoulder twice to have her whip her head around and completely forget about her current company.

“Oh my gosh, is that you Alastor?! It’s SO nice to see you. And whooose that you got with you?” Mimzy spun in her stool, immediately turning her attention to Vox who lingered a couple steps behind to watch the scene unfold. As if on his cue, he broke out into a smile. A claw was extended to take Mimzy’s hand. The flapper giggled and slipped her dainty hand into his, flinching when she realized how cold and sticky it was. Still, the woman was a professional and put on a more dazzling smile to make up for it.

“I’m Vox, you must be Mimzy.”

“You’ve got that right handsome! I’ve been dying to meet you since Alastor told me about you the other night! You run a TV studio, right?”

Alastor took a step aside, content to watch the two meet. The man whom Mimzy had previously been engaged with leaned over. He tried to get her attention back, but the flapper made no indication she even knew he was still there. Frustrated, he took his drink and stomped off after he shot Vox a withering glare.

“That’s right! Channel 66, with Morning and Evening news at 6! Trust us with your Entertainment!” As easy as switching the channel, Vox donned his TV persona, speaking his signature tagline with a flourish of his arm.

“Oh my gosh! You’re doing the thing! Aren’t you just the cutest.” Mimzy playfully tapped the side of Vox’s screen, her smile only slightly condescending. The attention felt nice for Vox, with a tinting of his screen coloring it a light gray. Doing it in front of a camera and its crew was one thing, for a fan it felt performative and cheesy. Vox tried to shrug it off with a rub at the back of his neck.

“You’re too kind! I also can’t help but wonder what Alastor has said about me. Hopefully mostly good things.” Vox shifted his gaze to Alastor who had pretended he didn’t hear their conversation, ordering himself a finger of rye instead.

“Of course! Good things, good things. The man’s a total sweetheart, wouldn’t you know? Said he picked up this adorable new apprentice who makes the funniest sounds. Said you were real handsome too.” Mimzy pressed her elbow hard into Vox’s side, sending him back with a grunt. The blush on his face intensified to an off-white color. Him? Handsome? Vox tried to shake it off with a fake laugh, taking a step away before his ribs were assaulted by another powerful jab from the flapper. 

“Now I know you’re lying! But it’s a nice lie. Alastor tells me you could help me with my programming so I could get more women to watch my shows?”

Mimzy leaned back, putting her shoulders on the bar. One leg kicked over the other, giving Vox a flash of something hot pink between her legs that had him immediately averting his head. Thankfully Alastor seemed to not have noticed or wasn’t going to murder him for it.

“Of course! I’d love to, darling. Do you know what you need more of? Drama! Romance! And a WHOLE lot more blood!” Alastor’s ears perked, swiveling as the magic word had him immediately take an interest in the conversation.

“Uh, pardon. Blood?” Vox asked.

“Yes! Blood! We want to see some guy get torn apart, stabbed, gutted, choked, strung up, and made into a grisly totem, melted down. The more fucked up the better! Combine it with drama and romance? And I guarantee, you’ll have all the women tuning into your channel! Your handsome face will help, I promise. But they need more than that to keep coming back.”

There wasn’t anything like censorship or a board to determine what went on the television in hell. It was all legal. Could say fuck, show sex, whatever the hell you wanted so Vox could put in some gratuitously bloody and violent scenes. The issue was, the suggestions were so outlandish he didn’t feel confident in them.

“I’ll poll it and see what our viewers think! Is there any drama or romance you want to see particularly? Drama is a pretty wide umbrella”

Mimzy picked up her expensive looking cocktail, sampling the fruity beverage, not answering Vox at first. Despite her feminine appearance she downed it all in one shot with only a small shudder. She was already calling over the bartender for a refill with a gesture.

“Have you ever watched a heart-throbbing romance, Mr. Vox?”

“I… wouldn’t say heart-throbbing but I’ve watched a couple of romance movies at the drive-ins. It’s where I’d often take some of my first girlfriends.”

“I’ll give you an idea! Something intense, with an exciting premise that makes people wanna see what the hell happens! It’s about an Overlord you see, dating a regular ol’ Sinner. Thing is, this Sinner is an Exorcist who got left behind for whatever reason! Think of the DRAMA! The character development as this lady goes from wanting to die permanently to falling madly in love with the worst of the worst of us fucks.”

Vox took a mental note of that one. Seemed a little contrived but, reality was often weirder than fiction. 

“Why would this Exorcist date the Overlord in the first place? Why would an Exterminator even want to date a sinner?”

“Shit, I don’t know, that’s for you to figure out. If you want me to do all the writing, I expect money. But the ideas are free, honey. You seem clever, you’ll think of something.” Mimzy winked, knocking back her second cocktail. 

“Actually- Nevermind. If you want to hear more, buy me a Sex On The Beach, would you?”

Mimzy had no shame walking back on her words. Vox laid three dollars on the counter. 

“I’ll cover the drinks for the Miss here and The Radio Demon,” Vox informed the bartender. A badger picked up the bills, holding them in the light to check their veracity. Content, he put them in the register, served Alastor another finger of rye, and got to work on Mimzy’s third Sex on the Beach. Satisfied, the Flapper coyly batted her long lashes at Vox.

“Look at you flashing those big bills mister.”

“I’ve been known to do so now and then. So, you were telling me about this plot?” Vox encouraged her to continue. But rather than engaging in the conversation right away Mimzy put her glass on the counter and pulled Vox hard by his coat. The man stumbled forward, only avoiding crashing into her by catching himself on the counter. Electricity went wild between his antennae. “What the hell are you do--”

A dainty gloved finger pressed against his electronic lips before he could finish the sentence. Sultry half-lidded eyes bat their long lashes his way. Vox found himself frozen in place, his brain going blank from shock.

 “Oooh! Softer than I thought.” Mimzy mused, trailing along the line of his lips, yelping with her finger grazed across his teeth. Too bad he couldn’t find it in himself to care when she fucked around with a man who has shark teeth. “Ow! Well, that isn’t soft.”

“Mimzy! Don’t put your fingers in somebody else's mouth like that! You don’t know where that’s been. Besides, it’s rude. I would have bitten your finger off.” Alastor couldn’t even find it in himself to feel bad for her as she wrapped her bleeding finger with several napkins. The blonde shot him a dirty look.

“Al! You don’t really mean that do you?! I’m wounded. I was only trying to flirt with him a little, you know. Get him to spend more money on me.” Mimzy whined in her defense.

“I’m right here you know.” Vox reminded her, licking away the blood that still lingered near the bottom of his lips. Mimzy startled, then tried to laugh it off with a wave of her free hand.

“Of course you are! I meant it in the best way, I promise, Mr. Vox! Anyway, as I was gonna say! How about instead of this talk of romance… the best art imitates life, doesn't it? How about it, a whirlwind romance between you and me? I’m free Saturday.” Mimzy rotated her bare shoulders, and Vox suspected it was to draw attention to her ‘assets’ with her low-cut dress. The man heaved a sigh, pressing two claws to the space between his eyes where he’d have a bridge of a nose- if he had one!

“I’m flattered Miss Mimzy, but I’ll pass. I’m only hoping to get ideas for my studio. If you have no more, you can tell me.” Vox coolly tried to steer the conversation back to what he came here for. It wasn’t that he found her unattractive, but there was none of that instant chemistry the likes he felt with Rosie.

Or Alastor.

With a click of her tongue, Mimzy spun back upset with being spurned so completely. The napkins that covered her wound were getting soaked through. 

“Bartender! I need a fricken bandage here!” Out three dollars and with his conversational partner ignoring him now, Vox tried to not look too annoyed as he put his hands into his jacket pockets. He came up to stand on the other side of Alastor, ordering a brandy for himself.

“Say Vox...” Alastor called to his friend, as a curling smile crept across his features stretching impossibly wide. It was such a sinister expression Vox felt immediately suspicious. But far too curious to say no.

“What…?” Vox’s claws clamped around the highball glass.

“Do you know how to dance the swing?”

“Al! You can’t seriously be thinking of dancing with him before little ol’ me!” Mimzy interrupted before Vox could answer, to which the red-haired demon attempted to assuage her with a demeaning pat on her head.

“I have and will. What Vox doesn’t realize yet is he doesn’t have a choice.” Alastor answered in a sing-song tone. Mimzy puffed out her cheeks, sending a vengeful glare at Vox who had no fucks to give as he enjoyed his brandy. Only a silent bid of ‘your welcome for the drinks’ in his head.

“A square like that doesn’t know how to dance. And you heard how he rejected me, you ought to be consoling your good friend Mimzy who had her heart broken just now!” The puppy dog's eyes were out in full force, jabbing her finger toward his face to remind him how she’d been wronged.

“And you promised to aid him with his show in exchange for a few drinks. I had told Vox you would help him with his problem and you’ve made me into a liar!” Alastor shook his head as a hand clapped over his heart. Truly, the one who suffered the most here was his reputation! “I can hardly have you make me an honest man but I can at least ensure I did not bring him here for nothing.” With the ball placed back into Mimzy’s court, Alastor bent forward with both hands laid on top of the other, garnishing his cane.

With furrowed brows, her gaze shifted between both men until with defeat, she sat back with her arms folded across her chest. 

“Fine! Fine! You want my advice square head! You should hire some women to give you new ideas. I could talk your ear off all night but you’re not a woman. Or hire some women to write and direct the damn movies.”

It was such an obvious solution, that Vox felt embarrassed he didn’t think of it himself. Of course, hire more women with creative input. As things were, there weren’t a lot of openings in his staff but with the rate of expansion that wouldn’t be true in a few months. Vox was so happy, that he even let the rude comment about his head pass.

“I’ll do that! Thank you Mimzy!” Vox had been in such a mindset from up top that he never stopped to consider… anything went in Hell! If Vox hired a bunch of women, who would care? He’d kick the ass of any who objected to it! Or if he couldn’t, Alastor would! His body buzzed with excitement, half of hell’s population was only waiting to be biased toward his TV station.

“Now will you dance with me, Al?” Mimzy whined, snatching her hand back. For all her flirtations, she quickly showed her ass once rejected. Something that didn’t do well to impress Alastor’s opinion of her. But she was such a dear friend and he’d seen her rebuff so many more men far more strongly, he could forgive her. With a shrug, he agreed and offered his hand.

“Will you be alright for a dance or two, Vox?” Alastor asked before he left.

“Absolutely! Honestly, I was worried I’d be making a fool out of you on the dance floor. I have no idea how to dance the swing. I’d much rather watch you two!” Vox encouraged them, wanting to continue riding his high right now. It helped that he was earnest, embarrassing himself on the dance floor hardly sounded fun. Alastor’s eyes squinted, trying to see past the veil Vox liked to wear. While he was fond of his ability to switch faces like a channel, Alastor didn’t like people hiding things from HIM!

There was no denying that the man had been especially frank and genuine around him, however. From the day he carried him home, spoke to him on Candide, and saw him beat a man’s head open? It gave one a sense of familiarity with a man unlike any other!

“Well, that won’t do! No business partner of mine can be bad at dancing! Worry not, we will remedy this slight another day. Until then!” With a wave, Alastor was off.

With both shoulders draped over the counter, Vox watched the two join the dance floor. Hand in hand, the two energetically danced and swung each other having the time of their lives. It was a new and different side of Alastor that Vox hadn’t seen yet. A pure kind of joy of simply moving his body with his partner to the rhythm. A joy that didn’t rely on sadistic pleasure or the suffering of others, a kind of joy he could enjoy with others. Vaguely, he wondered what other joys he could share with another without sadism.

Those two were in sync in a way Vox had never seen before. When one moved back, the other forward. One left, the other right! When Al bent his knee’s, Mimzy went straight into his waiting arms to be lifted above. The two went through the motions of dances they had done countless numbers of times if he had to guess with the biggest smiles on their faces. The colors and accessories of Mimzy’s dress made every movement a delight, the bounce of her curls, she felt like a person transformed on the dance floor with an energy and flexibility he didn’t expect. Neither could be satisfied with only one either, with so many head turning moves Vox felt more than a little intimidation.

He would never be able to dance half as well as Mimzy. Alastor would ultimately be disappointed in him as a dance partner, but it did look… fun.

To either side of Vox, he could see couples everywhere lost in conversation. A squirrelish sinner cuddled up with a cat that looked as if they had become completely blind to everyone around them. He had to turn his eyes away trying to ignore the pang of envy in his heart. It reminded him of his Kaguya, long since separated. The image of her on her deathbed always resurrected when he got too close to another. He already failed his wife once, he didn’t want to fuck up again.

Luckily he met Alastor, who was exactly the friend he needed. He wasn’t the woman of his dreams saving him from the misery of Hell. Instead his friendship and subtle support had made his once hopeless rabbit hole of life feel… less despairing. A second round of brandy was ordered while he watched the two dance. Eventually exhaustion had them returned to the bar with both their faces red from exertion and throats dry.

“Bartender! Another sex on the beach!” Mimzy cried her order first.

“And two fingers extra for me chum!”

A round of drinks became two. Then three. While Vox kept to water he watched both Mimzy and Alastor challenge each other to drink more, refusing to be the one defeated. After Alastor polished off the bottle of rye the bartender informed the two he had to make a quick trip down to the cellar and that he’d only be a moment. With good cheer, Alastor lifted his glass in cheers to the man. The badger had only disappeared down the stairs when Mimzy hopped off her stool.

“Sorry, I just remembered something important came up! Thank you for covering my drinks handsome! Alastor, wonderful to see you as always!” Mimzy was made of something else entirely, she wasn’t even wobbling when she left the building.

The sudden disappearance struck Vox odd, but with Alastor red in the face and head down on the counter he wasn’t about to go anywhere. The two shots of whiskey were enough to make Vox hot under the collar and tipsy and cut himself off. Otherwise, there was no way either of them was going to be able to get home. 

“Does… Mimzy usually run off like that?”

Alastor sat up, head thrown back as his uncanny smile wobbled. Without proper support on the stool, he fell to one side. Vox offered his shoulder to catch him, putting his hands on either side of his waist to keep him from falling off his chair. Alastor’s hands groped at Vox’s shoulders, crumpling the jacket beneath. 

“Vox… come here. You’re so delightfully cold!”

“Woah! Al! You’re slipping hold o--” Paying no mind to the stares they were getting from the other people in the club, Alastor yanked him closer until he could brush his cheek against the frame of his chassis. There were no nerves outside his screen, but he could hear it. It was one thing to have Alastor clinging to him drunk as a skunk, but to have their faces so close together was making his heart pound. He quickly held Alastor’s shoulders and forced him to sit back on the stool disentangling his body. Vox spun to the side, hugging himself trying to ignore the other man’s protests.

“Vox! Where are you going? Do you hate it when I touch you?”

Vox whipped his head back around. The screen filled with static that interrupted him every time he tried to say something, anything to argue against the PHRASING of that sentence. 

“Al! You… need to be more aware of what you’re saying. You’re absolutely toasted. Come on, let's get some water in you and… take you home. Where do you live anyway?”

Alastor pounced a second time as soon as Vox came close enough to press his face against his shoulder instead. He tugged on the jacket, sending it a glare for putting two layers between him and the cool cool metal beneath. Alastor refused to let go! He giggled with delight as Vox became his new support. Hard to believe he feared this guy was going to tear him apart a few weeks ago. The bartender returned with the new bottle, squinting at the empty seat where Mimzy once sat.

“The girl go to the bathroom?” The bartender asked Vox.

“No? She went home. Why?”

“The three bucks you left doesn’t cover her tab alone, buddy. Much less the drinks for you and your clingy friend. Think she left you two high and dry with her tab.” The badger sighed, throwing the towel over his shoulder. Something he’d seen a hundred times before, and normal enough. “I know who you two are, I don’t get paid near enough to fuck with The Radio Demon. But I can stop serving you two drinks.”

Vox grumbled under his breath, looking at the drunk still clinging to him. With a bleary look in his eyes, Alastor asked, “Mimzy’s… gone? What a shame! The girl does make herself scarce far too suddenly.”

“She did, leaving us with the bill. Does she do this often?”

Alastor barked another laugh, shaking his head. 

“All the time!” He admitted. With groggy and clumsy movements, Alastor fumbled around in his pocket and slapped a couple more bills on the counter. The bartender snatched them, checking for any magical mischief with them. When satisfied, he grunted and left to serve the next customer. Vox sighed and slipped his arm under Alastor’s arm to allow him to cling to him how he liked, but for the trouble he was taken to his feet. The Radio Demon let him carry him out of the bar and into the street for some fresh air.

“Come on, you have clearly had enough!” Vox scolded Alastor.

“Oh! But the night is only beginning! We are meant to be celebrating YOUR first kill Vox! And you are stone cold sober.” Alastor smacked Vox’s chest, groaning again as the constant flashing lights made him search for security within the fabric of the mustard yellow sweater.

“Trust me, the last thing I want to do is dance and drink after that. I’m kind of… disturbed with how LITTLE I care about all of this to be honest. Am I… broken?”

Alastor went silent as the two passed through the threshold and into the cool night air outside. 

“Not at all! Hell is meant for people like you and me!”

Chapter Text

I often questioned myself:

Is this love? Do I REALLY love them or..

Was there something I wanted from them I couldn’t do without?

That was- Until you took everything from me

And I still loved you

I wish I didn’t.

The nightlife was buzzing with artificial lights blocking out the equally artificial stars above. Street Lamps had already lit up, creating patches of light acting as a beacon from one stretch of darkness to the next. Hell was never truly quiet, with robberies and people held at gunpoint even at these odd hours. Overpopulation was an increasing issue with no plan in place, but the sight of the Radio Demon made the crowds naturally part and scamper out of sight. 

“So, last chance to tell me where you live. Otherwise, I’m dragging you back to my place. I don’t think you’ll be able to walk home otherwise.” Vox warned Alastor. The drunken demon whimsically sang, one hand dancing along to a melody that was only half kept up with. Alastor hummed, pressing his ear against Vox’s shoulder.

“That’s a secret my deaaar! But what a gentleman you are to offer. I’ll be fiiine.” Alastor pat Vox’s arm, in a failing attempt to assuage his fears. Vox’s shoulders fell and rose with a sigh.

“There’s no way I’m leaving you alone. Come on.” Vox’s claw secured itself around his waist, hugging his body close. All the while he was trying to ignore how hot his face felt to have Alastor’s body pressed so close to his. Continuously, Vox pushed back the impure feelings that kept bubbling to the surface of his mind. As long as he kept looking forward, Alastor wouldn’t notice.

“Vox my dear! You know, I saw an on Ad on the funny paper yesterday. It read, ‘TV for sale. 10 cents. Volume stuck on full.’ I thought to myself, ‘Why, I can’t turn that down!’” Unhinged laughter erupted from Alastor. Try as hard he might, Vox couldn’t resist laughing too. Not over the joke- it was horrible. No, seeing Alastor struggle for air over the worst dad joke he ever heard was the best thing he’d seen all day.

“Very funny! Come on, stand up straight or we won’t get back until the morning.”

It wasn’t the only horrible pun that night! Once Alastor started with the dad jokes, they came out in droves!

“To the guy who invented zero, thanks for nothing!” 

And each time Vox would do his best to not laugh, give him a straight face, groan, and roll his eyes. If only because seeing Alastor’s joy at his pain was fun for him

“A man sued an airline company after it lost his luggage. Sadly, he lost his case.”

What could have been a twenty minute walk home had become an adventure. Vox didn’t have enough to drink to get drunk, but the mood and atmosphere had embroiled him before long. The two sang together in drunken off-tunes of the familiar duets that would play on the radio. Vox forgot the words more often than he remembered the right one. Alastor would sometimes mix up the lyrics to throw Vox off his groove, causing him to pause and speak the lyrics to himself until he realized he’d been fucked with.

“Hey! You little bastard!”

“Are you sure I am the one who is drunk dear? At least I can keep the lyrics straight.”

“You’re the one who's mixing them up!” Vox countered with a shove. That light tap was enough to send Alastor’s feet wobbling to the side. Only kept upright thanks to his cane, and head rolling as his mocking laughter continued. Demons of all kinds were shifting to the side, amazed and confused by the sight. Despite that, it was as if those two were the only ones left in the streets.

“Fine- no more singing for you tonight!”

“I doubt you truly mean that. One compliment about how lovely I find that voice of yours and you’ll be singing like a canary Vox.”

The compliment did earn a blush, one that the Overlord tried to hide by throwing his hand over his mouth to also hide that wobbly smile. He wasn’t going to give in that easily! But neither was Alastor. Having found his hand around his shoulder again, he leaned in close; breath tickling the frame of Vox’s screen. 

“I love your singing Vox! Won’t you please sing one more? How about your favorite?” Alastor said.

“My favorite song is… in French. I’m not even sure if I could say the words right.” Vox confessed with a hushed voice. Sobriety momentarily returned the deer, curious about this revelation.

“French? And how did a French song come to become your favorite ditty?” The pace of their peaceful night stroll became jostled as Vox had to help Alastor step over a blockade in the road. HIs unstable footing sent him careening forward into Vox’s chest- a place he’d been finding himself a lot this evening. Each time, Alastor could hear the whirring of the fans within, before he knew it he was attracted to its soothing white noise.And each time, Vox had to ignore the way it made him hyper aware of how… warm and soft Alastor was.

“I heard it on your Radio,La Vie en Rose. I don’t know what the words say but the emotion in her voice is incredible. I sometimes have to put down the pen and listen.”

Alastor hummed, cocking his head curiously. He’d put it on once or twice, sure. Though it was a tune a little out of his time-period. A love song. 

“You’re secretly a romantic, aren’t you?” Alastor teased, bumping shoulders with his companion. Vox knit his brows together, scoffing far too much as he denied it.

“No! I-- Don’t think… I’ve never actually been in love before. Sometimes I think something’s… wrong with me. Truthfully I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like. My-- well. I know! A man in Hell who doesn’t know how to love! How cliché!” Vox threw his hands up boldly, asking the Heavens themselves to laugh at him. Something in those words resonated hard within Alastor.

“I don’t think it’s cliché. I’ve never been in love either! Never met the right woman I suppose.”

“You too huh…? I’ve had plenty of girlfriends and I’ve even been married once. I’ve felt infatuation too but once that weird high that goes with it disappears I feel nothing toward them anymore. What about you?” Even Kaguya… but another mounting failure that convinced Vox he was born a monster.

“Well, I cannot even say I’ve felt this so-called infatuation before.” Alastor began. “I’ve dated a few gals in my time but none of them felt like they were worth taking home to meet my mother. Mimzy and I were even an item for a spell, but the both of us quickly determined friendship was all we wanted from each other. But chin up my good man, I’m sure the right lady is waiting for us somewhere. And if not, we have eternity to wait!” It was only thanks to all that rye, that’s what Alastor had to tell himself for having such a loose tongue tonight.

Vox put on a bitter smile. Not sure if he wanted to wait an eternity to feel like a part of him wasn’t broken. 

“It’s reassuring, to know there’s somebody else like me out there. But, it is Hell. I doubt anyone finds love down in this pit. Especially an Overlord. It’s a weakness only asking to be exploited.”

Alastor shrugged the statement off, not quite so convinced. “A dandelion will sprout from a crack in the pavement. If it’s strong enough, who's to say that little weed won’t be equally resilient.”

Vox considered the words, eventually returning a shy smile. “Now who sounds like the romantic? What if I sing my second favorite song for you?”

Alastor smiled with triumph, “Well, I suppose I could settle for that! I may have to teach you some French one of these days. I want to hear you sing La Vie en Rose!”

“Deal.” Vox flashed a toothy grin. An eternity meant he could take as damn long as he wanted to learn a bunch of nonsense words that meant nothing to him! For tonight, Vox gave in. Settling for his second favorite song, The Jailhouse Rock by The KING, Elvis Presley. There wasn’t even a necessity for an acapella version, thanks to his ability to play music directly from his speakers.

The energy of the rock and roll song caught Alastor off guard at first. It was different from the Jazz that he was used to but even he found himself moving his body along with Vox’s. Halfway through the two even went into an uncoordinated kind of dancing that swung their bodies left and right sending Vox’s shoulder into a building in the process. The harsh clank gave Alastor pause but when Vox laughed it off Alastor joined him.

“I suppose your King isn’t half bad. But he still doesn’t compare to the true masters. Truly it seems I have much to educate you upon Vox.” An incredibly fake sigh spilled from the Overlord, with a condescending pat meant for the arm slung around his shoulder, but it had missed and smacked his own chest instead. “And we’ll educate you starting… now!”

While Alastor may be lacking any natural biology to play his music, his microphone was handy to do it for him with the upbeat tunes of a song. With only a smile and a bob of the deer’s head, it took nearly a full minute for the mischievous words of, ‘Let’s Misbehave’. The lyrics were so suggestive, Vox doubted what he was hearing at first. With each new suggestion to ‘misbehave’, it took everything in the man to not burst out laughing.

“As if I have any choice!” Vox said.

“Oh nonsense! There’s always a choice, it’s the consequences that are the sticking point, my lad!”

When they came upon that old ratty apartment, it even started to feel as though it were too soon. Drunk on the atmosphere, Vox’s hand fumbled with the key, smacking against the keyhole not quite able to get it lined up. The moment that the task appeared to require extra hand-eye coordination was when Alastor decided to be cheeky. He snuck both palms over Vox’s eyes while draped over the other man’s back.

“Al! I can’t see! Do you want to stay outside all night in the cold like this?!”

“You say that as if a door is a hindrance for me old chum! You’re the one who would be stuck out here.” Vox pushed the hands over his eyes, which Alastor didn’t pursue past that point. Tapping instead on the top of his head. “Can you feel it when I touch you here?”

With a sigh, Vox put the keys into the lock, answering him as he unlocked the door. “No, I can’t feel anything outside of my screen on my head. I can only feel from the neck down. Are you this clingy with everyone?”

Alastor kicked his legs, paying no mind to the fact he was giving Vox an undue burden draped over his back as he was right now. Even better, the man carried him inside instead of kicking him off. The man needed more of a spine. “Not at all! I detest touching most people. But you always make the FUNNIEST most colorful expressions when I touch you. I simply can't help myself, you should curse your darling face.”

“Thanks,” Vox spoke deadpan, throwing the Radio Demon off his back and onto his bed. Alastor fell with a bounce and sat up on guard. By the time Vox turned around his brow cocked. “What? I’m giving you the bed tonight. I washed the sheets like two days ago so they’re clean.”

Fuzzy ears swiveled, Alastor had been in the room once but never looked around. It was dark, and sort of messy with clothes on the floor, an unmade bed, and the only decorations of note were a few motivational posters. How depressing! 

“One cannot help but jump to certain conclusions when thrown into a man’s bed. Then again, there is that gentlemanly behavior of yours. Pray, could you indulge me one more favor before you retire for the night?”

In the process of removing his jacket, Vox slipped off one sleeve and then the other. Throwing the coffee brown coat over a hook that held a couple of different jackets depending on the weather- well worn by the looks of it. “You’re a man. I don’t know what you think I’m going to do to you. If you’re worried I’ll steal your kidney in your sleep, the couch is closer to the bathtub. But, shoot. What is it?”

The morbid scenario may not have been intended as a joke. Still, Alastor laughed regardless, waving his hand as if to dismiss the ridiculous scenario. “Oh HEAVENS no! I’d never think you’d do that.” The static filter of his voice intensified as his expression darkened. “I’d have to pay you tenfold for the attempt dear Chum! And what a loss that would be!” The warm and friendly smile returned, “I saw that you had a record player. A bit of jazz helps me bed down for the night, you see.”

“Yeah, sure. Wait here, I’ll be right back.” Finally, a chance to give Alastor that blasted record he’d been holding onto for so long. The record player was kept in the living room. It was in a good place where he could turn it on and vegetate on the couch for fifteen to thirty minutes when he got home if he didn’t end up falling asleep then and there. It was an old thing Vox got at a pawn shop in the first few months after he fell. Music was about the only enjoyment Vox had in the early days of Hell but his collection of records was still modest.

When Vox carried the player into the bedroom, he noticed Alastor was still completely dressed. He made a mental note but didn’t comment. He put it on top of his dresser, plugging it into the outlet on the side. A second trip was made to grab the Blue Haze album he went to so much damn trouble to get. As soon as the first few notes of music played off the record Vox noticed a twitch in Alastor’s ears. The permanent smile of his creasing.

“You found it!” Alastor exclaimed. “Is this what you’ve been trying to give me?”

Glad to finally have his efforts recognized, Vox leaned against the dresser with a smug smile. “That’s right! I had to call all over town to find it. But I found a copy! Just as I promised.”

Alastor closed his eyes, relaxing his usually picture-perfect posture to let the old-timey tunes wash over him. If one didn’t know better, they might even think he was simply… any other guy. Far too cute to be dangerous. The melody washed over Alastor as he flopped onto the bed. 

Vox took his leave, making a third trip around the house to bring Alastor a glass of water. He set it on the nightstand beside the bed.

“Here, try to drink this before you sleep. You drank a lot tonight. If you need the bathroom it’s down the hall on the right.”

One crimson eye peeked open, head tilted to get a closer look at the blue artificial face. “You should stand up for yourself more often, Vox.”

The non-sequitur put Vox on edge, freezing in place. His expression screwed into concern. Thin lips pressed together expecting some elaboration on that comment. Only the smooth jazz filled the silence between them and Alastor would likely be content to keep it that way. “What do you mean by that?”

“When Rosie’s husband made that rude comment about your body. When you paid for Mimzy’s drinks, she didn’t fulfill her part of the deal. The demons here… they see you as a thing, don’t they? And you let them.”

A heaviness weighed on Vox’s heart, bitter that he couldn’t deny it. “You also treat me like a thing. Like when you keep playing with my antennae.”

The grin on Alastor’s face faltered for a moment. “And after I went to the trouble to make her go through with her deal and cooked your meals. Ungrateful. You fascinate me, silly picture box. I’ve never met anyone like you in Hell. But I can cease my touching if it troubles you.”

The tension in Vox’s shoulders fell, immediately feeling guilt for his thoughtless comment. “No, you’re right. I wasn’t expecting you to poke at a sensitive spot like that. Aren’t you supposed to be drunk?” There was some attempt to bring levity, to which Alastor answered with a ho-hum and a raise of his shoulders.

“Maybe I’m asking because I am drunk. Part of me is feeling endeared by the way you’ve gone above and beyond for me for the record. If you want to become a powerful Overlord, you’ll need to learn to stop letting people walk over you like that. If I wasn’t there to scare them off, they’d see you as an easy target.”

Vox tugged on his sweater, picking at the pilling fluff. “You make it sound like you’re planning on leaving me to fend for myself soon.”

“Oh of course not! There will always be more filth to clean off our streets! But it does not mean I want my partner to be seen as weak. In any case, a private talk with Mimzy and Rosie’s husband will set them straight! I’d much rather not teach them a painful lesson as I like to keep their good graces. But the next man? I’d love to see you bare your teeth. You’re in Hell now, no laws or anyone to stop you. See if you can upstage tonight's performance!”

What a liberating thought. Nobody was there to stop him from doing whatever he wanted. Vox knew that and understood it. But even as a small-time Overlord he never killed anyone or exerted his power. When it came to influence, he only maintained his territory thanks to Alastor.

“Sure, next time some idiot messes with me I’ll put on a show just for you.”

Alastor stood, nearly falling over in the process. The blood rushing to his head and the alcohol pickling his brain had his feet stumbling. “Hm, now there’s a shame. I am still a bit too out of it to give you the dancing lessons you deserve. Still, you will not get out of it that easy!”

“Dancing… lessons? Right now?”

“Why of course! It won’t DO to have you sit on the sidelines every time! And you went through all the trouble to find this record. Come, push back that couch and we’ll make a studio of it.” Alastor picked up the glass of water, downing it in hopes it might sober his head a little. But only a couple of steps were taken before the whiskey had him wanting to fall back on the bed and crash. Vox caught him before he ended up falling against the nightstand, Alastors hands clenched tightly to his shoulder.

“Let’s save it for another night. I have a half day on Wednesday. I’ll have a lot more energy for dancing.” Vox reasoned, already guiding Alastor back onto the bed who laid back down with little effort.

“Wednesday it is! Shut off the record when you go.” Alastor closed one eye, watching Vox as he walked over to the record player to shut it off. He then bent down, fishing out a pair of pajamas for himself from the drawer.

“Fair. I have a spare set of pajamas if you want to put those on.”

“That won’t be necessary. I can handle that dear, you go ahead and plug yourself in for the next day and hunker down. Good night Vox.”

There was some suspicion as to what Alastor had in mind. But he did not even dare think he was going to sleep in the buff. As long as he didn’t soil the sheets, well… he was fine with it. “Good night, Al. Sleep well. Oh and-- thank you. I know I sounded ungrateful earlier but, I do consider you a friend of mine. I thank you for getting so wasted I have to carry your ass here and give you a bed to sleep on to repay the favor.”

Alastor snorted with amusement, waving the man to encourage him to leave even a moment later. Even after the door closed behind him the natural way he was smiling didn’t end. Al had not intended to get so deep in his cups tonight, but he found himself… glad he did. He could hear the footsteps of the other man on the other side of the door as he settled down for the night. It was oddly comforting to hear another living being in the same home, even if the last thing Alastor wanted was to share the bed with him right now. It did make falling asleep that night grant a rare kind of peace the deer in him rarely felt. He was safe.

Alastor was an early riser, waking with the dawn. At five AM he dressed, left behind the record Vox had gone to so much trouble to get him as an excuse to visit another day, and slipped out into the living room. He could spot the back of Vox’s monitor from the back of the couch. A reflection against the television across from him with a blanket half draped over his body. With his umbramancy Alastor came closer to look at the sleeping figure. It was a curious state, his body was completely inert and looked lifeless. There was no rise and fall of his chest, only the faint sound of a single fan blowing. Careful to not wake his host, Alastor plucked the blanket and tucked it around him. A good deed performed, exactly because there were none to witness and soil his grand reputation!

Alastor didn’t feel guilty leaving without saying goodbye as he slipped under the door and onto the sleepy street. There was rarely a soul wandering the streets in this early hour when the fog was thick and hid terrifying things. Like a Radio Demon and… his friend.

There was always a shift in the air, the environment itself whenever SHE arrived. Alastor’s oldest friend and enemy, closer to a God than anything else he knew how to describe. None could perceive her that she did not wish, and the shape she took was always what she wanted. Most times Alastor saw nothing at all, with only the ghost of her fingers feeling like a thousand little insects crawling over his skin. Today only the humid aid that felt like it was boiling his skin was his tell of her presence.

“You’re quite fond of the picture box, aren’t you?” A feminine voice called out to Alastor, a woman without shape forming only a vague silhouette in the mists hovering behind him. SHE held no presence, but the hair on the back of Alastor’s neck stood on end like goose-flesh rising. Her entire presence provoked the instincts in him to RUN. But the chain around his neck kept him well in place. As he was trained, Alastor spoke unaffected save for his radio filter.

“I am! He’s the perfect mixture of desperate for my approval and competent! He’ll make a suitable meal for you in no time, I guarantee it.” Alastor’s golden smile stretched, hoping she’d be satisfied with that answer. Long warm fingers pressed against his shoulders, clamping down so hard it hurt. But the demon did not dare utter a sound. It was only an illusion, she was not there. A thing he reminded himself of over and over again.

“Mm~ Oh he will be delicious. Don’t get too attached to him, alright dear?”

The mere suggestion of attachment was enough to raise laughter from the Overlord. He could concede that the brief time he spent with him was… fun. He might even look forward to meeting with him again but attached? He was as expendable as the day he got him.

“Have no fear, he’s a man. It’s only a matter of time until he reveals he too is only fit for The Show and then you can feast on him ALL you like.” Alastor assured her, attempting to break away. The hold around his shoulders only grew more tight with the ebony hair pressed into the back of his head, melding with the night.

“I want you to throw him into my show the day he says ‘I love you’.”

“Pardon…?” Alastor laughed, robotically turning his head around. Nothing there, even if he could feel her like some paralysis demon. SHE brushed her fingers through his hair, as if to soothe a child who lost his favorite toy.

“When he says that he loves you, Alastor. He’s QUITE fond of you, you know. I can see it in the way he looks at you whenever you leave, or the way he looks at you whenever you aren’t paying attention.”

“Vox is a man, he does not possess feelings of anything other than admiration.” Alastor insisted, finally yanking himself free. It was only because SHE let him. Another pair of feet clicked against the concrete as he walked home, reminding him that he wasn’t alone.

“Then you’ll have no problems agreeing, will you? He’s yours to keep until he says, ‘I love you’. Then he’s mine.”

A sigh left the stag, whisking off the suggestion as inconsequential. “Fine. If he truly developed such feelings for me I’d want to be rid of him too. I’m only interested in the right woman when she comes along.” Keyword was: When. SHE seemed to find this funny by the airy laughter beside him; unsettling like skittering insects crawling down his ear canals. Alastor despised it.

“Excellent! This is going to be so much fun, Alastor! I might take him into Eden with me first before I destroy his mind! Take him as a lover for a few years maybe, then make him my manservant, then… oh I’ll make him my pet! Force him to walk on all fours and eat out of a dog bowl.”

A humiliating fate laid ahead for the poor picture box. One that brought a smile even to his sadistic little face. “You were always creative. Why had I never thought to do that? He IS quite like a puppy dog isn’t he? So eager to please. I trust you will reward me well for such a prize?” Alastor wound his hand around near his neck, miming the chain that still held him. For a brief moment he could spy her, only ever in the corner of his eye.

A pale woman with dark red hair, dressed in black and red. Quite the popular fashion in Hell! Her face was shaded by a large brimmed hat, a checkered top, and long boots. It was impossible to get a good look at her ever. “Make the show fantastic enough… and sure. I’ll give you YOUR freedom my dear. Fail me and… you’ll be the one joining me in Eden.”

Chapter Text

You were my dear Lycoris

A beautiful bloom of death and farewells

I said goodbye to yesterday with the sunset

The dawn had never seemed so bright

Ever since that night, there was an openness between Vox and Alastor that had them naturally spending more time together. At first, Alastor was apprehensive around Vox. The ominous promise that as soon he’d be gone as soon as the two became too close made him more aware of how quickly the distance Alastor kept most people shrank. It wasn’t as if the man barged into his sphere, it was that cursed curiosity of his. He listened, he asked questions, and even if he couldn’t understand he made the effort to do so.

There was one sticking point that still bothered him. The attraction that SHE spoke of. It was the same allegations that Alastor always had to avoid when he was alive by attaching himself to his dear friend Mimzy. He wasn’t attracted to men nor women, the whole affair seemed exhausting and pointless to him. The friendship he held with Mimzy felt far more valuable than some delusional obsession that people in love always seemed to be consumed by. A magic spell, and he was glad to be immune.

Vox clearly wasn’t. Now that Alastor knew where to look for it, it was everywhere. Within reflective surfaces he could sometimes see the way Vox’s eyes lingered on him. How Vox naturally smiled more around him, he was different around Alastor. Vox had many faces, many of which appeared on his broadcast. But there was a gentler, more open Vox that sang with him. The screen was naturally more vibrant whenever he was speaking to him than any of his employee’s or even Rosie or Cyril.

Vox still maintained his part of the deal. Finding not only Overlords but even regular sinners with particularly abhorrent behaviors. Rapists, violent bigots, abusers, pedophiles, and more. To Alastor’s surprise, Vox never asked him why he wanted those particular kinds of souls. While the two were more open with each other than most; there was an understanding between the two to not dig into the personal affairs of the other. They didn’t talk about what they did when they were alive or about their families, didn’t dig into their potential dirty laundry. If one did not volunteer the information, it was understood it would remain a mystery.

The visits with Rosie continued, becoming a thing that happened bi-weekly if not more often. After Vox got over his initial discomfort of rejection the two managed to build a friendship that started to make even Alastor envious. Weeks turned into months, and before Alastor knew it half a year had passed watching the once shy and nervous man who may have withered without his help flourish. That same confidence started to attract the eyes of many around him.

Vox’s business thrived for it! The addition of hiring female writers, managers, and other staff put a monopoly on the female market. Something Vox found to be incredibly profitable, as the merchandise flew off the shelves. That ratty old apartment was left behind for something new, an actual house! Vox had laughed off any jokes about a wife, but he did keep a guest room. A convenient place for Alastor to sleep whenever the two ended up drinking too much.  A generosity that Alastor found himself taking advantage of more and more often; not because he couldn’t go home… an empty house just seemed lonely.

After eight months, Vox had decided to surprise Alastor one evening! Waiting for the Radio Demon after his show, he stood beside his newest acquisition with the biggest grin on his face. A brand new light blue muscle car parked behind him, with a pair of keys held in his claws. The old cracked head had been upgraded to a smaller model with a larger screen. More lightweight with a more vivid screen. It made the smile he displayed clearer, and the sound from his speakers in higher definition. But that lovely voice of his remained the same.

“Al! Check it out! A BMW 507 Roadster! This thing came out a little before I kicked the bucket, and I always wanted one. It’s… not the same thing, but it’s beautiful isn’t it? Join me on a drive? Wind in your hair?” Vox thumbed toward the vehicle, his screen glowing with excitement. The first person Vox wanted to share this joy with was Alastor, a culmination of everything he worked for.

While Alastor wasn’t the most enchanted by vehicles, with his memory tainted by the ornery pieces of machine that worked only by black magic and luck back in his time. In comparison, this vehicle was more sleek and didn’t require a thick manual to operate. Less chance of being stuck in the middle of nowhere having to call a mechanic. For the sake of seeing how bright that little screen could go… he answered affirmatively.

“Why, I’d be delighted! And just where shall we be absconding to? Just a long drive out of the city to feel the wind in our hair?” A tall order with hell’s overpopulation.

“Figured we can go to Lookout Pointe. You can terrify all the horny assholes fucking in the back of the vehicles, hunt some guys down in the woods there, and then… hey we can make s’mores! How’s that sound?”

“Hmm. I’ll roast what we hunt up there instead. You know I’m not fond of sweets.” Alastor dismissed the offer with a flamboyant flip of his hand.

Vox chuckled weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. He’d gotten used to Alastor’s… diet in the months he’d gotten to know him. Even ate some sinner flesh! It was always cooked and made to look unrecognizable from any other meat. Or he’d refuse to eat it. 

“Then let me grab something for myself on the way there. You know how I am about… raw flesh.” Vox opened the car door for Alastor, who gratefully took the offered seat on the passenger side. With a jog-trot, the TV overlord got into his side. He took a moment to gloat, adjusting his mirror and watching Alastor as he put on his seat belt and got comfortable in his face.

“I must say, it’s rare to see you in this high of spirits. Have you driven a car before?” There wasn’t exactly such a thing as a DMV in hell and a question Alastor should have asked before he got in and buckled his seat belt.

The engine purred to life as Vox turned the key, turning his screen over his shoulder to check for pedestrians before he backed up. “Yeah, I had a couple of cars back when I was alive. They were the best way to pick up girls. A nice car got all kinds of ladies asking about you. Now I got my dream car and I’m taking a man for a drive. I’ve changed a lot since my twenties.” Vox laughed, flashing that wide toothy grin that Alastor was so fond of. So full of pure joy, with gorgeous teeth that could easily tear through flesh. One that always made Alastor grow to mirror it like a contagious fever.

“Speaking of which! You’ve become quite popular with the ladies lately. I saw another woman crying when I visited your office the other week. Do you not know how to turn them down gently?” Alastor tried to curb the sadistic grin on his face. Oh- Alastor would NEVER make a lady cry himself if he could help it. It was the thought that Vox was turning them down for HIM that brushed his ego and the best part was he could continue to pretend he didn’t know and reap the flattering affection.

“Ah-- Shhiiit. You saw that huh?” Vox frowned, apologetic. To the wrong person. As the car wound through the streets of Pentagram City, his eyes kept mainly on the road. Occasionally shifting over to the passenger when he sat at a light.

“I do.” Vox’s hands tightened around the wheel. “I’m no more popular than you, you know. I’m just not as good as you are at deflecting them.”

“Pardon?” What women could Vox be talking about? The Radio demon drew a complete blank. Sure, he had lots of female friends but none of them had tried anything remotely romantic! Vox looked at him with a look of pity, but no answer which frustrated the Radio Demon. There was NOTHING pitiable about him.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not interested in a relationship right now. Between work and spending time with you, Rosie, and Cyril? I have nowhere to fit it. And I don’t want to sacrifice any of those things.” With one arm draped over the side of the car, a smile of pure content flashed across his screen. Pulling the car to a complete stop once he slipped through the drive-through of a WacDonald’s. “Want anything while we’re here?”

He’d never admit it, but Alastor felt oddly touched that his friend prioritized him over a romantic partner. Enough to not press him on that look he would not have tolerated from anyone else. They’d be without their eyeballs anymore! “You know how I feel about that fast food garbage, if you want to fill your body with that junk that is your prerogative.” Alastor dismissed the offer, turning his head in a deliberate way of turning his nose up.

“Alright, I ask in case you ever change your mind. I can always order a coffee or something.”

“If I ever agree to drink coffee from a fast food restaurant, you ought to bludgeon that imposter to death on the spot. I won’t tolerate a cheap imitation.”

After Vox made his order and paid for the food, the bags were thrown into the back. Alastor refused to even touch it, as if it’d taint his taste buds touching the bag. After pulling out of the driveway and a short drive out of the city they made for the wide open stretches of road where traffic disappeared. 

The dying embers of the day dyed the sky magenta with a faint reddish glow at the furthest reaches of the remaining light. The radio constantly fluctuated without Alastor ever touching the dial deigning to be DJ and passenger Princess. With their open mind toward most genres of music, Vox was usually content with whatever played. The need for constant words had died sometime in the months of their friendship, content with only each other's silence. Alastor’s duo-toned hair whipped from the wind, his body leaning to the edge to catch the delightful way it ran over his scalp and ears. Hand outstretched to catch the wind as it passed by them.

With only a single hand left on the wheel, Vox spent more time watching Alastor than the long stretches of open road.In a moment of wordless communication, Alastor locked eyes with Vox and watched as that permanent smile stretched as it always did when he was happy. It inspired Vox’s, adding an illumination to his screen. The joyful melody of Alastor’s signal reverberated in Vox’s chest. In all these months he still never let on he could hear the signals, they were a special treasure only for him to enjoy. One of the rare blessings of his strange body.

The climb up the hill went slower, with the vehicle fighting gravity to carry them up. The breezy ride slowed to a crawl as the headlights illuminated the dark and steep winding path through forest and cliff-side. There weren’t even road guards, public works existed for things like sewage and electricity but they were commercialized. Making roads safe didn’t benefit anyone directly. These roads were only maintained thanks to a toll at the base that acted like Lookout Pointe was more of an attraction; which it was.

There were rare places you could take somebody that were somewhat private in the congested pits of Hell, outside anyway.

By the time the pair reached the top of the hill, the last embers of the day were extinguished. Three other cars were parked spread out as far as possible. One with a couple already sitting at the back of the bed of the truck. And a second couple sitting on the cliff-side having what Vox could guess was a quiet romantic chat. 

Alastor gazed at the couples with a mixture of disinterest and skepticism. Did Vox truly only bring him here only to hunt down the couples? It happened to be a really convenient way to be alone with him. If a man was willing to murder six people just to be alone with him for a couple hours… well he was more than flattered! 

“I’ll be right back!” Vox held his hand up, silently motioning for Alastor to stay in the car as he unlocked the doors and hopped out. Curiosity had Alastor staying in his seat even as Vox got out of the car and popped the trunk. Alastor turned his head a full 180 degrees, a fact that had Vox’s right eye twitching when the unblinking eyes of the Radio Demon followed him. “You know it’s creepy as fuck when you do that right?”

“You have mentioned that, yes.”

“Mm.” Vox hummed, pulling out the object he’d hidden in his trunk. He slammed it shut and hefted up an Axe. The weapon was heavier than Vox expected, but the sight of the blade had Alastor’s whole face illuminating. The once joyful signal was now a song as Alastor faded into the shadows and stepped out beside Vox with his arms extended.

“You know I love to see you getting your hands dirty by your own hands and teeth, but an Axe! How delightful! You should chase them into the forest and into my waiting arms!”

“As fun as that sounds,I can’t kill six people by myself before any of them drive away in their vehicle. I’ll get the one on the right if you can take the left?” Vox motioned his screen to the two cars parked side by side. One with the couple sitting in the truck bed and the other having fun in the backseat by the way it was bouncing and creaking. Alastor pulled his lip back momentarily, judging the two. 

“Easy as pie, dear!” Alastor reassured him, taking up the head of the axe in both his hands. Alastor admired the unpolished metal, thinking of how it would sound to hear that blade buried into the bodies of those poor unsuspecting lovers. Beneath the shade of his coat that tail was wagging in anticipation.

Vox shifted the handle to his left hand. In a sudden movement he took Alastor’s hand with his right and plucked it away from the blade. With his palm held flat and a thumb pressed over the back of his hand, Vox pulled Alastor toward him. “May I have this dance?”

The question provoked a stir of static, and beyond all expectation, Alastor felt his heart… skip a beat? Without showing the way he’d been secretly affected he coyly tilted his head to the side. “To what melody dear Picture Box?”

Ker-chuk.

Fzzzzz…. 

A noise played from Vox’s speakers not unlike a record being set on a player, the scratching of a needle as a prelude when an upbeat jazzy song began to play. The bounce of the beat immediately had the two tapping their feet. “You were saying?” Vox rhetorically asked. The two began with a back-and-forth swish of their hips. Keeping contact with only a single hand as their steps moved completely in sync with the swing of the dance.

A little bird told me that you love me

And I believe that you do

This little bird told me I was fallin’

Fallin’ for no one but yourself

Their hands broke apart. With Vox heading to the right and Alastor to the left. The couple by the cliffside had not even noticed the danger on them when the axe had already buried itself into the hood of their car. Alarms blared, but the song continued to blare, mixing with the car alarm. The horrible sound of metal giving way from a blade clamored and squeaked as Vox pulled the blade out and buried it into the engine. A ka-put and release of steam informed the end of that engine. The vehicle was nothing but a hunk of junk now.

“What the fuck are you doing, asshole?!” The man of the pair stood protectively of his sweet, tall, and imposing. The lion-like sinner might be intimidating if he wasn’t a nobody sinner. But for an upcoming Overlord? He was nothing but prey to play with. Vox didn’t say a word as the axe swung, burying itself split across the sinner’s head. There was a moment of silence, with the chipmunk sinner beside him had her mouth gaping open in shock. No words.

There’s no use denying

Might as well confess

Of all the boys I know, dear

I’m sure I love you best

The wet noise was barely audible over the cheerful jazzy music as Vox pried the axe free by kicking the body over the cliff. Blood sprayed, getting over his screen, his clothes, falling out into a fearsome rain that splattered over the woman he wanted to protect. The corpse was lost to the darkness with the woman only now finding her voice piercing the air with a shrill scream.

In the time that Vox took to set off the car alarms, Alastor had made quick work of the remaining two vehicles. Tentacles popped two tires in unison ruining the once peaceful atmosphere with a loud POP and a wheeze as the air expelled from each. With a cadence in his step, Alastor’s body began to grow and change. Antlers grew into gnarled branches, the ruby eyes into a uniform red with dial pupils erratically dancing, and those teeth narrowed into needle like pricks. The air itself became charged and distorted, black rectangles and squares littering the air that felt like a distortion in reality itself. The once perfectly adequate seven foot man grew several times larger until with a singular hand he could snatch the woman who tripped over the truck bed in her fumbled escape. Her man kept running without ever turning around to see if she was O.K.

How tragic for her.

Doubly so, as Alastor wasn’t the type to make death quick when he was having fun. His teeth tore into bone, marrow, and tendons were butter beneath his hungry maw. The screams were like a decadent spice, turning into gurgling mews that cursed the name of her cowardly lover. He chewed on her like a long-awaited delicacy, flexing his tongue once she’d been chewed to a pulpy mess to slide her body into his gullet.

The little bird told me we’d be happy

And I believe that it’s true

A little bird told me we’d be married

And I believe that it’s true

Only now finding her legs, the chipmunk sinner went screaming for the forest running from Vox. She only got a few steps before a cable coiled around her ankle, tripping her up. While still dancing in tune to the bouncy melody, Vox sang along as he lifted the axe and brought it down upon her back. With the cane held between both hands, Alastor came prancing back. Setting his hand on the haft of the axe, stealing Vox’s hand before he could pull it from the victim’s back. The blood on their hands intertwined as their impromptu dance continued. Alastor took the lead pulling Vox in, twirling until his back hit his chest and sent him flying back out while clinging to that joined hand. The pair danced around the body of their latest victim, with Alastor lifting the axe free with a tentacle and embedding it a second time into her back.

This little bird told me when we marrying

We’ll have a pretty cottage

Not too far

Fenced in like a movie star’s

With both hands-free, they held hands and swung round and round again. The two broke free with Vox picking up the axe and stepping over to the car that stopped its crude bouncing. Vox approached it first, stepping onto the trunk of the car and peering into the backseat. He could see them huddled together, hugging each other with fear in their eyes and half-dressed. With a rolling of his shoulders, Vox lifted the axe and had it come down on the roof of the car. Screams came out muffled from within. Alastor lurked outside the doors. Face pressed against the glass windows with that terrifying smile of his staring down the sinner’s inside like a feast. Elongated fingers tapped the glass, tap tapping relishing in the way they climbed over one another trying to get away from the Radio Demon. Torn between watching their heads where artificial blue light began to stream in from the gaps in the aluminum.

Beset by two horrors, they finally got the idea to try their chances running. After screaming some encouragement to their beloved they opened the opposite car door and went running. With no clothes on! A running prey was Alastor’s favorite, he set upon the two lovers with their hands intertwined as they ran into the woods. And Vox knew they only got so far because the chase would be no fun if it ended too easily.

We’ll have a great dane pup

We’ll call him Ace

Lying there by the fireplace

A goldfish pond and a wishing well

Everything is gonna turn out swell

Vox abandoned the axe on the car roof. Following at a casual pace as he watched his feral bestie charge off into the forest to do his favorite thing. The TV Overlord didn’t have as much sadistic pleasure in the kill or hunt as Alastor did, but after the first few times? He started to enjoy it. It in his own way, especially with Alastor. It was a rush of power that he never felt when alive. His power let him destroy anyone he didn’t like or crossed him, and only somebody more powerful than the two of them could stop them! 

When Vox caught up to Alastor a few minutes later he was already halfway done eating one of the victims with the second missing his leg. The monsterish face illuminated when it caught sight of his friend, leaning its large head back to swallow his second meal for the day. Several rows of teeth connected by threads of saliva and blood glistened within the ichorous black maw.

“I left one for you ,Vox. I want to see that beautiful screen of yours slick with blood!” In his altered state the static was far thicker, gravelly, and completely inhuman. There was nothing remotely human left in his voice, echoing with a second even more inhuman tone. The Vox from seven months ago would be pissing his pants right now. Right now? This was his new normal, and he even liked this side of Alastor.

“As you wish, Alastor!” Vox claws flexed, hovering over the poor man who’d been left to watch his beloved be torn apart. Vox bent down with a sadistic grin spreading across his screen completely devoid of any of the humanity his soul possessed. He’d found happiness embracing the monster Hell saw him as. There wasn’t a moment’s hesitation as his claws tore open the sinner’s belly, reached in, and yanked out his stomach.

A little bird told me we’d be happy

And now I know that it’s true

Come June it’s bound to be true

Blood splattered all over his clothes, his screen, clothes, everywhere. Fresh spurts of gore sprayed out each time he bent in tearing out a still-warm organ from the body and casting it to the dirt. The frenzy continued long after the man went still, his screen dark from blood-thirst. Alastor returned to his normal size, watching the show as though it were the finest entertainment in hell. The performance closed with a clap. The sound brought Vox back to his senses, with a bubble of laughter rising. The two had become soaked to the bone in blood with viscera catching on their clothes, buttons, pockets, and anything that extruded.! Vox pushed up to his feet, plucking a piece of an ear stuck to Alastor’s cheek. The deer daintily cocked his head like a maiden with a flower petal plucked out of her hair as Vox chucked it away.

The deer’s ears swiveled, feeling that same strange fluttery sensation when Vox offered his hand. Vox offered his hands again, inviting him for another dance. Another sound effect rang from his speakers as he put on the next song, Beyond the Sea by Bobby Darin. Vox took the designated lead, setting his hand on Alastor’s shoulder while his partner found his shoulder. A slow dance that avoided roots, loose leaves, scattered guts, and sundered limbs. An ominous red moon hung above, casting a gentle light on the pair.

It was the longest period the two had ever spent this close to each other. Something Vox normally never dared, but the mood of the night had him letting his guard go down. Just this once. Their bodies only parted as Vox spun Alastor, and pulled him back to press their bodies back flush together. The leaves slick with blood scattered, making Alastor’s footing falter and collide hard against Vox’s absurdly solid chest. A combination of misfortunes followed as Vox stepped into a ditch and fell onto the floor. Alastor managed to keep himself from smashing his head face-first into Vox’s screen with some quick reflexes, planting his palms on either side of the dirt. His upper torso hovered over Vox’s while the screen beneath him had gone completely dark.

Alastor gasped for air, suddenly feeling spent from all the excitement from earlier. A red fingertip gently tapped the side of Vox’s frame trying to wake him. It took a good thirty seconds before the familiar dark blue face returned. Groggy red eyes coming to focus noticing the red-clad demon still positioned on top of him. “Ah---” Vox’s voice came out strangled, his face losing its color as a blush crawled across the screen right underneath his eyes. Those dead pixels were even more clear with the new screen, reminding Alastor of the star’s. Who knew a defect could be so charming? Vox’s cartoonish eyes took up half the screen, and he shot his arms out abruptly. Stained claws pushed against Alastor’s shoulders to pry him off, and the younger sinner rolled to the side to hug himself.

“What the devil is that for!” Alastor snapped his teeth as his body was thrown to the floor, his beautiful coat now soaked with mud, leaves, and other filth. Ugh! It was filthy now! He smacked away the filth from his coat where he could, scattering excess dirt and leaves about.

Vox inhaled then exhaled, clutching his bloody screen as he calmed his racing heart. Another close call. “Sorry-- sorry. You surprised me! You’re not hurt are you?” Too little too late, Vox spun around to check on his companion. It was a huge damper on their otherwise wonderful evening. But Alastor wasn’t about to let a little dirt ruin what was otherwise the most fun he’d have since he died.

“If I had found somebody on top of me, I would have done much worse I suppose. But you will be paying for the dry cleaning. In honor of such a grand time tonight… I’ll let this transgression slide for now.” Normally never let ANYONE get away with this. Even now, he felt a strange unsettling feeling after being pushed away like that so abruptly. But he struggled to understand… why.

“One guy got away. He’s probably way deep in the forest by now, do you want to go looking for him or…?” Vox stood first, offering his hand to help Alastor to his feet. His friend took the offered hand, looking into the depths of the woods.

“No, we’re more likely to get lost chasing a scared little rabbit. But you, my friend! You’ve not eaten yet! You must be starving after working up such an appetite. Let us enjoy the view we’ve secured for ourselves now shall we?”

“I could eat.” Vox confessed, a crooked smile on his screen when he found half of somebody’s nose on his elbow. Alastor followed the line of his sight, suspicious when he saw those shoulders shaking. He plucked the offending piece of flesh off and stuck it right on Vox’s screen between his eyes. Alastor cradled his chin, admiring the new piece of work.

“Got your nose.” Alastor said.

The mild warmth emitting from the screen didn’t let the nose adhere for long. Gravity quickly took over with a bloody smear left as it trailed south. While the joke could be made, Vox altered his voice to sound like he had a congested nose.

“Tanks! I needed a nose to put to the grindstone! I’d already worn my face flat! Pfeh!” The nose hovered just over his mouth, spat out before it could fall into his mouth and into a pile of dead leaves. Alastor struggled to hold back his laughter the whole time as he wiped up the smear with the underside of his coat. It was already filthy, he couldn’t take the man seriously looking like that.

“A regular clown you are.” Alastor shook his head, defeated in the end by how brilliant that cyan smile was. Red was still far and away Alastor’s favorite color, but blue looked nice on a smile. Better than he thought.

The two trudged their way back, catching their breath after the evening excitement started to die down. Fragmented breathy laughter filled the air as some new piece of flesh would be discovered. On the back of Vox’s jacket, in Alastor’s hair, on the sleeve of either man’s coat. Both of them ended up tossing their dirty jackets into the backseat after Vox pulled out his meal. They took up a seat on the cliffside, getting a breathtaking bird’s eye view of Pentagram City below them. Lights glittered in the distance but it was wholly silent on the mountain where only the stale wind could reach them. But this wind didn’t carry with it the smell of death and misery, it was something that almost resembled the breeze on Earth. Refreshing and clean, carrying with it a chill that reached past the single layer of clothes Alastor wore.

Vox tried his best to wash his hands off with a water bottle, but he was still careful as he handled his burger. It was mediocre and practically tasteless. Cold too, yet one of the most satisfying sandwiches he’d had since his death. Alastor rested his head against Vox’s shoulders, eyes half-lidded as he took in the sights from the point. 

“So, now that you’ve ascended from the common sinner, how does it feel?” Alastor broke the silence, but his eyes never left the horizon. Vox swallowed his bite, turning the sandwich over in his hand as he thought about his answer. The climb had been smooth and considerable without having to worry about stepping on the toes of other Overlords, but he had yet to earn his seat at the table for the meetings.

“Everything’s changed. For the first time in my life I feel… enough. I like who I see in the mirror, like I am more myself than I had ever been my entire life”

Alastor stirred, his curiosity aroused enough to finally look at Vox.

“All I ever really wanted was for people to look at me. That after all this time, I’d become somebody worthy of love..” A harrowing realization hit Vox making him pause for a few seconds, the light of his screen dimming. “In the process of becoming somebody people could love, I neglected to learn how to love others. I feel envy before I feel affection, I’m so fucked.”

Shoulder’s shook with the self-deprecating laughter, a genuine smile oozing with a tender warmth that if Alastor could read a little better he’d call him a hypocrite for. There was a gentle swirl in the right eye as Vox met the gaze of his friend. “You, Rosie, and Cyril are different. You all have aspects I would despise you for because I don’t have them, but it’s different with you three and I don’t know why. I finally have ALL those eyes I wanted on me my ENTIRE life and they meant nothing to me in the end. I only needed one to see and accept me, and I’ve never felt so at peace with myself as I do now.”

Alastor wanted the exact same thing. He never knew it, until that moment when Vox put his desire into words. His father only saw the demon in him. His mother only saw the good. They were always only one half of the man he was, and others only ever saw what they wanted him to be. 

“What about you, why’d you become an Overlord?” Vox asked.

“I’m afraid I can’t say.” Alastor curtly answered, not even feeling a little guilty after Vox shared.

“Oh. Well, if that ever changes I’ll listen. How about in return you tell me something about yourself you don’t mind sharing then?” The compromise was suggested with a motion of his hand still holding the burger. Vox stuffed the remainder of the sandwich into his greedy mouth. Watching him with a quiet anticipation. Something he didn’t mind sharing? Alastor laid his head back down, thinking.

“I miss the Ocean. New Orleans was a port city so it was always nearby. Seafood was one of our staple foods. I loved to gather clams and swim in the ocean. The only happy memories I have with my father was when I was young sitting on the docks fishing, when I was a young boy. Seeing Maman’s face when we brought home the catch was the highlight of the day, then she’d grill them fresh for us. But that’s the only thing I miss from Earth anymore. It’s changed so much I would hate to live there now.”

Vox listened without uttering a word, finding the idea of a tiny Alastor spending time with his father adorable in his mind. “That’s a good memory.” Vox said. He crumpled the bag after he finished the food, then tucked it under a rock to keep the wind from taking off with the trash. Vox’s body leaned to the side until his head rested against Alastor’s, closing his eyes simply… to rest them. That was all.

But it was never ‘resting one's eyes’. He was knocked out five seconds after he closed his eyes. It was not hard for Alastor to tell when Vox was asleep either. His screen would always go completely dark and all the fans would power off save for a single one. It made him want to laugh at first when he noticed Vox had fallen asleep listening to his story about his childhood. And cute.

“I hope you never fall in love with me, dear friend. So that these days can keep going on forever.” Nothing lasted forever however, time always kept marching on. Vox fought him at every turn for reasons he couldn’t understand. But he made it clear in so many ways without saying it directly how important the Radio Demon had become in his heart. If Vox was the one to grant the wish he became cognizant to, Alastor felt he might feel that same peace Vox talked about.

Chapter Text

Back to the present for now…

When every day seems to be the same

Time moves on quicker than I ever realize

And I lose things without ever realizing what they meant

What you might be in ten or twenty years I’ll never know

So I’ll record every thought, so we both never forget.

“I think this is a bad idea Alastor.” Rosie chose not to mince words, arms folded over her chest as she stared down the deer with that harsh gaze that would broker no argument. The woman spent an uncomfortable amount of time standing by the window that faced the garden. There was nothing worth seeing out there. “Vox is dead, all you’re doing right now is trying to spit on his memory. Why do you insist on ruining those days?”

“...There is nothing from those years that is worth finding sacred Rosie. Besides, wouldn’t it be better to honor a man by truly knowing him?”

“No.” Rosie answered instantly. “You never let Vox or I truly know you. It’s always been mysteries and riddles with you. Would you want me to search for your father and give weight to all his words about you?”

All at once an intense vibration filled the air, causing a ringing in the cannibal overlord’s ears. The radio that Rosie kept went haywire and out of tune, flipping through several stations until it briefly stopped on a live report on a wildfire in Wrath. Then shut off. Rosie had won, she KNEW she won too.

“All’s the pity for him. Vox is dead, I am not. I have no issue spitting on his memory, his character, or anything he might have held precious. He earned this as far as I’m concerned when he foolishly tried to fight me.”

“I find an issue spitting on his memory.” Rosie cut in, “I don’t WANT to be happy he’s gone Alastor! I want to be sad, I want to miss him. When Cyril died and I…” Rosie’s voice wavered, gloved hand rising to her face to brush back the hot tears pooling in her hollows.

“When I fell apart, it was Vox who was there. I can’t afford to fall apart these days.” A pointed gaze was given Alastor’s way. One that unsettled the deer, knowing that he should feel guilt. But he didn’t. “I’ll talk to Lailah, but only because this is a lesson you’ll only learn the hard way..”

An agreement was an agreement, even if her motives may not align with Alastor’s. It was all the same in the end. “Oh you worry too much Rosie. Lailah is a splendid woman! You’ll see when you meet her. She could stand to talk about something besides that ugly ol’ tin box, but nobody is perfect. Except for myself of course.”

Even if the man’s usual brand of confidence that pushed into arrogance could be charming most days, this wasn’t it. Rosie felt burnt out, hollow even only able to give her oldest friend a dead stare. Pushing back what discomfort Alastor felt with the silence, he changed the subject.

“Enough about that then! Tell me, what is the news about the Entertainment District? I imagine losing the least important Vee hasn’t done much but… consider me curious.”

Lailah was an exceptionally talkative and energetic woman. Jumping right into talking about her son the way she had when he approached her. Introductions were barely given with Rosie still holding two cups of tea standing there waiting for a place edgewise to say her own name. The same polite smile plastered over his face, nodding once in a while to indicate she was listening.

There were new stories this time. This time about how Vox had managed to win an award when he acted in the school drama club. The font of praise was never-ending for his dear old buddy, to the point that after fifteen minutes the man had begun to zone out while it buzzed in the background. Rosie was a far stronger warrior, able to keep on smiling. But Alastor recognized that smile.

It wasn’t genuine. Well, no wonder. Lailah never shut up.

“Mrs. Lailah, was it?” Rosie broke the brief silence that settled once they had sat down for tea, giving the poor woman a chance to finally set down the cups. The garden was never used anymore. When Alastor asked about the Gazebo, Rosie made some excuse about the wind and poor weather. It was perfectly sunny. All the better, they didn’t need the dead at their table.

“Yes, dear! And I haven’t even told you about how he became a TV show host! I knew the man who hired him! I met him when--” Lailah broke out into a monologue, moving at a pace that refused to be stopped.

“Lailah.” Rosie tried to cut in, unsuccessfully.

“I worked for this Architect. I was in charge of assisting with constructing his office. He would always bring me coffee and come by to chat with me while he waited for my boss when he was busy with a-” Lailah kept barreling through.

“Lailah.”

“-nother client. I agreed to go out for coffee with him one day and told him about my son who was an amazing actor and subtly mentioned how he was looking for work.”

Rosie was patient when she needed to be. Yet he could see the strained smile and the impatient twitch in her right eye as she tried to hold back the annoyance she felt. Lailah continued to stomp over any chance of either of them adding anything to the conversation. A moment where the sheep had to catch her breath was when Rosie struck.

“Mrs. Lailah, would you mind telling me why your son went no contact with you, exactly?”

The coffee that Alastor had been sipping on came down the wrong throat as he narrowly avoided the way he nearly spat all over the table. Not that he could blame her. The way the woman kept barreling through the conversation was getting rather tedious. Especially since he’d heard most of these stories already. But the usually cordial Rosie was humorless!

“I don’t know,” Lailah answered, with her gaze lowered. Her hands cupped together under the table. “My son would never talk to me, tell me what was wrong. Just had this habit of always bottling it up. As soon as he was independent, he cut himself out of my life. Like his father...”

Rosie pressed her gloved hand against her chest. “Oh dear! That’s horrible! With no word at all?! What about your husband?”

“My husband hated me. Always called me horrible names, told me to abort Vincent, beat my son, and cheated on me. I’m not even sure why I’m in Hell, as I still loved him just as the Lord says one should love their husband! Not that it was worth anything to him, as he left anyway. I don’t know what makes men treat us like this.” Lailah sniffled, covering her face with her hands.

Memories of his mother and his tyrannical father surfaced in Alastor’s mind. This poor woman was wronged by every man in her life, only to end up in Hell. Alastor wasn’t the type to comfort, he couldn’t be. Truthfully, there wasn’t even any sympathy. It was all noise to him. All he could do was grin and bear it, hoping Rosie could step in where he lacked. Yet to his surprise, the woman was completely unaffected by Lailah’s tears. She was watching her, waiting for her sobs to end.

“Here dearie. Wipe those tears.” Rosie held out a handkerchief, pressing the cloth against her hands encouraging Lailah to lower her hands. Gradually the sheep lowered her hands, took the handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. Rosie watched intently, patting the sheep’s back motherly waiting until she had dried up all her tears. When Lailah was done, Rosie’s outstretched hand accepted the used handkerchief that she tucked into the safety of her pocket.

“My first husband wasn’t much of a winner either you know! Which is why I ate him! If you want, if the man’s still kicking around in hell we can serve him for dinner one night! How’s that sound sweetheart?”

Lailah sniffled, brushing the back of her palm once more against her dry cheek. In the end, lovely Rosie managed to bring a smile out of her. Alastor at last felt like he could relax as well. That would have been an awkward conversation with Rosie about her treatment of the poor woman! Especially since he valued her opinion more than anyone’s!

“I’ll pass on eating my husband. But thank you, Rosie, you and Alastor are both so, so sweet to bring me here. It’s been so lonely in Hell. You never know who you can trust or who's a snake in the grass, you know?” Lailah sighed, putting on a bitter smile. “But you two are different. Like Alastor! He is such a gentleman! It makes me wish he was my son, too! I was so nervous about meeting you Rosie, but you’re actually quite a sweet woman. So beautiful too, and with the most BEAUTIFUL home.”

“Haha! I’m afraid my dear mother is the only one for me but I am flattered.” Contrary to his words though, Alastor was over the moon. Rosie on the other hand was quiet. Never giving Lailah an answer besides that enigmatic smile.

“Alastor. May I talk to you for a minute?” Rosie’s head swiveled to look at her old friend. Drunk in the atmosphere, his sleepy face cocked to the side. A slow frog blink answered her, along with a slow raise of his shoulders

“Mm, of course dear. We shan’t be long Ms. Rhodes!” Alastor was up and ready to depart from the seat, fully expecting only good news by the sing-song tone in his voice. After all! Nobody ever aimed to disappoint Alastor. Unless they were that nasty picture box. 

Lailah picked up a scone, nibbling on the edge.Her beady eyes looked plaintively toward her host, arms shrunken in as she already began to flinch at shadows. It was clear she was nervous to be left alone, as laughable as it was. Two of the most powerful in Hell and within arms reach! She was the safest she ever was, and no hungry cannibal would put a finger on her.

“Call for my name if anyone intimidates you. I will be there.” Alastor patted the sheep on the head. He did not even wait to hear her answer as he followed Rosie to the backyard. Almost immediately that unsettling feeling returned, robbing what joy lived in his heart. That blasted grave was still there and he’d already said his goodbyes. The roses that once sat on the grave had withered, signifying the passage of time. The corpse was never warm enough to grow cold. He doubted the body could even… break down. You could dig it up in fifty years and it’d be perfectly preserved save for the rust and grime. Unlike flesh which broke down and fed the earth. Tch.

Vox really ought to disappear already.

“I cannot say I am feeling much like fresh air so I’d rather keep this short if you don’t mind Rosie,” Alastor spoke with hands behind his back as he did everything he could to gaze past the grave. Rosie produced the handkerchief from earlier, spreading the cloth over her palm.

“It won’t be long, dear, I wanted you to look at this.”

It was a simple handkerchief, one of Rosies. A pretty rose pink with light pink lace. The embroidered name on the corner made it unmistakable who it belonged to. He couldn’t see anything wrong with it. Still, he humored her, pinching his monocle as he leaned closer. But he still had no clue what he was looking for. “Yes, it’s very nice Rosie. What about it?”

“It’s dry.”

“I can see that,” Alastor confirmed. Rosie met his eyes with her vacant gaze. Waiting, hoping he would finally understand. “You’ll have to speak more clearly than that if you want me to understand, Dear. What about this bothers you?”

“Her crying earlier was fake. Those strings of misfortunes, don’t they all sound… like she’s trying to create the most ridiculous sob story? Vox up and disappeared out of her life without giving her a reason. That doesn’t sound like him.”

There it was. That name. Vox. Despite all the other points, that was what stood out. Alastor pinned his ears back, holding back the bite in his voice. “We never knew or understood the Picture Box. You saw how he changed. He was always that selfish little child.”

Rosie frowned, rather than getting upset she looked more lonely. She looked… sad. “You were closer to him than anyone else. Do you honestly believe that?”

Alastor blinked, incredulous. “Hah! Of course, I do! It’s because I was the closest to him that I believe that! I was the one who was there when he removed his mask! The man couldn’t handle rejection. It’s sad, pathetic. I can hardly believe he and I were ever friends.” Alastor shook his head, full of disappointment with his previous self. A mistake he would never let happen again.

A chill wind blew through Hell, one that carried the acrid, filthy smells of hell. One that the two had long since gotten used to. What was the smell of a rotting corpse when everything already smelled like brimstone? But nothing was quite so bitter as the taste on his tongue.

“If that’s how you feel Alastor, I truly pity Vox. I wish one of you would tell me what happened between you two. I have my guesses. I know you’ll never tell me, so I guess that secret has been buried with Vox.”

“He didn’t tell you…?” Alastor relaxed tentatively, feeling that familiar and bothersome squeeze on his heart.

“Not a word. He only gave me this guilty look, like he couldn’t look me in the eyes. I thought he must have wronged you terribly. Then he started to hate you. And all he would tell me was that you were a monster.” A monster. For some reason it stung far more when the man who used it was well aware of the weight that word held. It was meant to hit him where it hurt.

There was some vindication that Vox at least knew he was in the wrong! No doubt the reason for his silence. More credit than he would have given the man. He was almost certain he told some fabrication so terrible Rosie never thought it was worth bringing up. She was always far too smart to be taken in by bullshit. “Is this what you brought me out here for? To show me a dry handkerchief and talk about a dead man?”

As patient as Rosie could be, she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. You can guide a horse to water… “Al, you know I love you. But I have a bad feeling about this woman. She’s not dangerous, she can’t hurt us. Still, how would you like it if Vox started digging up your dirty laundry if you died? Digging around in places you never wanted him to see?”

The thought made the skin on the back of his neck prickle. There was real and visceral disgust that Alastor tried to hide with a dismissive laugh. “Rosie darling! I would never leave my skeletons in any closet you OR Vox could get to! Besides, a sweet old woman who adores him is HARDLY dirty laundry. Unless you count how he treats her.”

“I—Fine. I’ll let you find out for yourself. You won’t believe me if I tell it to you straight. She can move in by Friday, but I’m not helping her move. That’s on you. I don’t want to deal with her more than necessary.”

Alastor clicked his tongue, disappointed. So much for that Cannibal Camaraderie. If he inclined her tastes for mutton a little more strongly Alastor could still earn Rosie’s sympathies. He could bring Lailah to the hotel, but he rather save that as his Plan B for now. Lailah talked far too much and was tiring to be around. 

“Hm, I’m so sorry to hear that. But thank you all the same Rosie! You are a doll, I’ll be sure to compensate for the trouble with those chocolates you like.”

Rosie hummed a noncommittal response, putting on a bitter smile. “You don’t have to Alastor. Just, I wish...” The putrid wind that blew filled the silence she left. The hollow gaze of her eyes narrowed as she turned her head to watch the grave. “I could be given some space to grieve too.”

Alastor rotated the cane in his hand, hesitating. He didn’t know how to comfort Rosie. The woman seemed so strong and unaffected by most things he never stopped to think Vox’s death did affect her. 

“As far as I knew, the two of you cut contact years ago and I thought you two had buried what there once was of a friendship.” It had been over seven years, plenty of time to get over any heartache from losing a friend. Or had he underestimated the strength of the bond those two had. How close were they exactly…?

“Yeah, well...” Rosie sighed, for the hundredth time that day. The insufferable heaviness of her chest wouldn’t let her go. “You missed a lot in the years you’ve been gone. Just as you have your mysteries, a woman always keeps hers. If you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone.” Rosie turned her head away, breaking away to stand between the two graves. One old where the grass grew over, and the other slowly becoming reclaimed by the earth.

“It’s been like this for the past few weeks Rosie. You keep dismissing me before I finish a cup of coffee, something is bothering you. What is troubling you?” Alastor could leave it. But not today. He’d been patient figuring she was having an off day or an off week. But he couldn’t stand it, Rosie was his last good friend in Hell and he wasn’t about to lose her too because he refused to look past the surface. His gaze hardened with expectation, as it could somehow break down the impenetrable walls of a woman who would only ever let them down willingly.

As expected, Rosie would match his gaze and remain unflinching. Mysteriously, her whole heart seemed calm. Closer to a still pond more than the troubled woman moments earlier. “A trade. A secret for a secret Alastor. What happened between you two?” 

And Checkmate. 

Rosie could tell from the instant his mouth twisted into the closest thing you could call a frown on his face that he didn’t want to know that badly. But still enough that it frustrated him.

“Very well. I’ll take Ms. Rhodes back home. But do let me know if you change your mind. I shall leave you to your grieving. Even if the ill-mannered picture box hardly deserves it. You should---” Alastor’s mind had gone to a rather dark place, somewhere between exhuming the body to throw it in the trash or defiling the grave. It was the ice-cold glare from the other Overlord that warned him if he crossed that line; he’d irreparably damage their friendship.

Alastor spun on his heel, waving her off like it was only a joke. “Calm down dear! I was only going to suggest you pour him a brandy! Flowers are nice but I’m sure he’s been missing a drink.” With those parting words, Alastor met back up with Lailah. At some point she had gotten up from the chair and started browsing all the little knick-knacks in Rosie’s boutique. What a brave little woman, wander too far and a hungry cannibal would have chewed on her before long. Ah well!

“Come now, Ms. Rhodes! I’ll be taking you home now. But by Friday we’ll have you out of that ghastly little apartment and somewhere with some class!” Alastor's hand settled on the smaller woman’s shoulders. A soft bleat answered him, with her face illuminating with joy.

“You’re far too kind, dear. I was so worried that Rosie didn’t like me! When she brought up how Vox stopped talking to me I thought she must have decided she hated me just because Vincent did.” Her expression fell, ears pinned back as she looked so small and vulnerable. If she was hoping for sympathy though? Well, Alastor had none. Tears only ever excited him, but he did try! His hand patted the fluff on the top of her head. It was still strange to hear his human name, which made him feel like an entirely different person entirely.

“Rosie is taking Vox's death harder than she expected. She’s a wonderful woman which you will come to learn in time! Perhaps next time you speak to her, you could talk about things other than Vox hm? Like what do you do for fun?”

The sheep followed alongside Alastor as he guided her back to the streets of Cannibal Town. The more she stared at the charming Radio Demon, the less time she spent looking at the empty eyes of the hungry cannibals who were craving mutton. A pair of children peeked their heads up, getting close enough that Alastor had to shoo them away with his hand. A cheeky child almost got their teeth around her tail, scaring the sheep into another bleat. Ah! What a delicious noise! Alastor had to tighten his hands to a fist to avoid the visceral desire to take a bite then and there.

“Calm down, nobody will dare lay a finger on you as long as I am here Ms. Rhodes.”

“T-thank you, Alastor. You’re such a wonderful young man. My son was lucky to have found you. And so stupid to have pushed you away.” The smaller woman shook her head gravely, clutching her hands together in a fist as if to pray to whatever deity watched over his lack of a soul.

Alastor’s ears perked, those were the exact words he’d wanted to hear since that cursed TV had been buried in the ground. And Lailah was correct. Of course, he did his best to stay modest. “He was a respectable and wonderful young man when I met him. It is truly lamentable how he became...”

Lailah shook her head, rubbing her arm. “No, he knows how to appear charming. And I hate to say this as his mother, But he’s always been a selfish man. He was never happy, was always hopping from woman to woman, never called his mother. He even treated his friends poorly! The same happened with you, didn't it?”

This sudden shift in her tone after praising the man nonstop since she knew him caught his interest. “You know, I have felt as though I never knew the man lately. The tantrum-throwing child he’d become must be his true self.” His crimson eyes bore on the sheep, hoping she’d confirm his suspicions. Like a pendulum, he’d come back and forth trying to fuel his hatred for the man. If he had to paint over his memory completely black, he’d do it.

“I hate to say this, but you’re right. He often would act so well behaved and then he’d just…have these times where he’d show his real colors.Throwing unreasonable tantrums and screaming, dumping all of these issues he’d been bottling up, and he’d start getting emotional with an attitude! If you ignored him long enough when he realized that wouldn’t get him what he wanted, he’d eventually start behaving again. Those other Overlords, they must have encouraged his behavior and...” Lailah left it to Alastor to finish that sentence. One he was eager to, as one man stood out.

“Right! That disgusting pimp! I do not know what he was thinking of associating with a PIMP of all things. And one who preys on people in such a deplorable manner!” Velvette he was rather neutral on. He could stand to be in a room with her and even respected that attitude that took no shit, made what was going to be an agonizing meeting enjoyable. The only half-decent Overlord among the lot.

“My son always liked men better, even if he tried to hide it. I was always telling him that he would never find himself a good decent woman if he kept looking at men that way. It’s just… disgusting.” Lailah sighed, shaking her head. There Alastor had to stop and raise a brow. While Alastor had his reservations about his sexual inclinations early on, he had outgrown such sentiments when he realized all love was equally horrible!

“If a woman couldn’t see the value in my business partner for such a shallow reason, he was too good for them anyway. If I may say so, with all due respect Ms. Rhodes." Alastor didn’t know why he had jumped to his defense there, but if Vox was going to be dismissed it should be for his character. Not because he was foolish enough to like men. Even Lailah was shocked and waved her hands in defense.

“I’m so so sorry Mr. Alastor! You’re right! And he did find a lovely woman to marry! Even if he didn’t treat her well at all.”

A harsh clang of static rent the air while his fingers clenched the cane in his hand. For some reason, he couldn’t find it in himself to believe that. Not when he recalled a hundred little signs of Vox treasuring their friendship. They sat in a box in his room, somehow not yet turned into cinders. Words and actions could not always match up, and Alastor often preferred the latter. Or whichever reality he suited him better in that moment.

They couldn’t have gotten to the old apartment at a better time. He encouraged the sheep inside her apartment with a hand pressed on her back. It must be the casual homophobia that was bothering him. It was a common enough time from his time, and there had been a time when he struggled to accept it as something normal. But these days? Well… a lot had happened.

“Have a good evening Ms. Rhodes. I must be heading back now, the Hotel will be falling apart if I stay away for too long! But I do enjoy the honest chat about our deceased companion.” There were still many in Hell who clung to their beliefs when they were alive, too stubborn to change. Alastor was equally stubborn, refusing to ever move with the march of time that propelled technology forward. The future only takes.

“Thank you again so much Alastor. You’re really just the sweetest man despite all the rumors! Come by anytime! I don’t have a lot of friends in Hell, everyone is just so selfish and unfriendly. It’s hard out there.” The sheep's shoulders fell, putting on a tired smile.

Alastor was still stuck on her earlier comment to have energy to put forth more than the bare necessities of his polite nature. Ms. Rhodes was still a mother who… loved her son! Despite how horrid he may have been. It was sweet. It was probably the homophobia that got her down here. “They’re out there dear, you simply need to know where to look. Bonne nuit!” With a graceful sweep, Alastor bowed and returned to the hotel.

Though he was anything but content when he left, Alastor trusted Rosie and her intuition. Her quick change into besmirching the son she loved so much was also bothering him. The most laughable part of it all was that she’d convinced herself he was one of the nice demons in hell when he absolutely was not! He would have laughed in her face and made her regret that statement, if he wasn’t distracted. There were growing doubts on whether he should move her into Cannibal Town. If Rosie heard any of what she just said? The woman would skin her alive!

Through umbramancy Alastor could hurry home in a blink of an eye but he opted for the traditional slow route. There were too many thoughts in his head he wanted to work through, without the loud rambunctious Hotel ringing in his ears. Alastor’s work for HER had him sitting in one place for far too long now, the people at the Hotel were starting to grow too familiar with him.. Alastor learned his lesson the first time around with Vox, he needed to keep some distance between himself and Charlie to deal the final blow to the Princess. This was something he absolutely could not fail. Not to mention the danger. Vox couldn’t wipe Alastor from Hell permanently, but Lucifer and Charlie could. He was trapped and feeling walls closing in all around him.

When he’d found himself standing in front of the new gaudy Hotel he wanted to retch. The insufferable circus décor that Lucifer was so fond of always offended his eyes. Alastor enveloped himself in his beloved shadows, retreating to one of two places Alastor felt some comfort anymore.

In the sanctity of his bedroom the unmarked book which he’d still not touched sat on the table. It’d been sitting there the entire time, with Alastor unwilling to open it to even the first page. No title, only a plain journal. His first suspicion was that it was a diary of sorts. If he had to return to those memories that covered the decades of friendship they had, it’d tear open a fresh wound he did not want to revisit. To see them from Vox’s eyes was the last thing he wanted.

At the same time, it meant he could understand why Vox started to grow apart from him. Or why he became attached to that insufferable moth. Why he had to change into somebody he could no longer recognize. The cover was slammed open with the first page only having a dedication written on the cover.

Dedicated to my Dearest Friend, Alastor.

Containing all the words I never had the courage to tell you face to face.

Chapter Text

It was the most inexplicable thing

When I found the one thing I had always been searching for

The hole in my soul had been a constant from life till death

Until I stared it in the face

A poem. Not just one either. Pages and pages of them from top to bottom, some short and some longer. Multiple covered in scratches, eraser burns, coffee stains, and the paper was thin in the places where the writer struggled with the line. There were tell tale signs of ink stains where Vox had struggled on a line. The faded remnants of the original words could be made out if he tried, so raw he felt thankful Vox saw fit to erase it. An Overlord was not allowed these sentiments.

Alastor’s thumb pressed against the edge of a page to flip through until he found an entry that was closer to a sketch. Vox’s artistic talent was something to be desired, but it was a step above the comical stick figure he used to depict him in that fight they had so long ago that ultimately led to a blackout. Felt like a fond memory these days. Nobody had given him half as warm a welcome home!

There were two silhouettes standing under the eaves of the bar. The two of them neglected to bring an umbrella that night. Alastor eventually grew so impatient he left Vox behind feeling as though he were invincible while Vox waited for the sky to clear up. Then Alastor ended up getting sick, leaving Vox to look after him for a few days. The man so generous caught his cold, leaving him without suffering for long! The memory brought a chuckle despite his desire to want to do anything but.

His hand slammed against the book, chastising himself for getting lost in such pointless reminisces. Vox died hating him. The temptation to look again won, with Alastor flipping the book back open. The second illustration was the day Alastor had mistaken another object head for Vox. Instead of a television, his head was a monitor. To this day he still couldn’t tell the difference. But when he thought back to it, it was weird how this man didn’t have any antennae! Vox was so sulky after that he wouldn’t stop pouting until Alastor agreed to watch one of his blasted talkies.

Near the back of the book, he found an envelope taped to the page directly. ‘I saw this play with Alastor the other day called Cyrano de Bergerac. I thought it’d be boring as all Hell since it was one of those pretentious French things. But… I really liked it, a lot. If I had Rosie give Alastor love letters in my place would that be… No, that's stupid. Rosie wouldn’t tolerate that for a second anyway.’

Alastor’s hands hesitated near the envelope. A love letter meant for him? He left it closed, turning the page. Words felt like mirages dancing on the paper, inscrutable and in some language he’d never seen before. Vignettes of countless evenings bleeding together when an everyday life had a constant presence to it filled with warmth. Feeling out of breath, Alastor slammed the book shut and threw it straight into the fireplace. 

His head fell into his hands, while his teeth grit down so hard it made his jaw hurt. The crackling of the flame and the smell of burnt paper refusing to be pushed out of his mind, or the dread of knowing the answers he had been looking for would be lost. Alastor only let the book sit for five seconds before he was fishing it back out and beating back the fire. Regret immediately clutched at his chest. The smile on his face wobbled, only kept there through pure steel force of will and pride.

He felt NOTHING for that man-child.

Nothing.

The book fell back on the table with a thud, forgotten as Alastor retreated to his bed. Yet, before he could collapse into bed a knock at the door snapped him out of his head. It wasn’t the usual rap of the Princess and it certainly wasn’t Vaggie who just rudely opened the door. It wasn’t the begrudging and brutish knock of Husk either. Well, he could hardly see a guest without being his best self. After adjusting the high collar around his neck Alastor took quick strides over to open the door, staring into the empty air. 

A prank?

“Down here.” A begrudgingly familiar voice commanded him. The large white top hat came into view before the cherubic face of the King did. Alastor was already in a bad mood. Now! It was even worse. To make things all the more baffling, he had cookies on a platter with him. Oatmeal raisin. Hmm, at least he had good taste.

“To what reason do I owe the pleasure, Your Majesty?” Alastor stressed the last two words as if he could will the words to be some sort of insult. Or at least all the nasty connotations of a slur. The angel wasn’t impressed, shooting him back with a deadpan look. He didn’t look happy to be here. So why the sooner he could illuminate the reason the sooner he could get him to leave.

“Charlie asked me to check up on you. She’s been worried about you locking yourself up in your room for the past month. I don’t see it as a problem. But, it’s starting to affect Charlie so now I care.”

A month already? Alastor had lost time then. He was certain it’d only been a couple of weeks at best. Where did the other two go? What has he been… doing this whole time? Lucifer shoved past him instead of indulging in his silent confusion. Alastor glared at Lucifer as he stepped aside, nose twisting. The place where Lucifer had touched him had him feeling as if there were a thousand little insects crawling inside his skin. Audaciously the King thought it was fine to look around his room and make faces whenever he saw a piece of décor he didn’t like. As if the clownish buffoon had any RIGHT.

“I’m sorry, I was not aware my absence had been that obvious. I had other business to attend to that was keeping me. You can tell her that I’ll be back to illuminate her life as her rightful father figure soon.”

A flash of red horns peeked between Lucifer’s golden locks, bloodshot eyes shooting a withering glare Alastor’s way. Pearly whites flashed between his sneering lips, bit back by his promise to his daughter. Reluctantly. The plate was nearly thrown onto the table, smacking against the book that still sat on the table. Lucifer picked it up, furrowing his brow when he noticed it had no title. “What’s thi--”

“DON’T TOUCH THAT.” Alastor’s distorted voice screeched as his body moved before his mind did. Body rapidly morphed into a monstrous form barely contained by the walls of the hotel, neck outstretching, head tilted at an angle as his hollow eyes stared down the angel. Lucifer turned to look at the terrifying face with his only reaction being another look of disgust even as the cryptid creature easily dwarfed him.

“Eugh, you look hideous when you do that. Stop it.” Lucifer put the book back down on the table. He wasn’t intimidated, but he wasn’t curious enough to dig into Alastor’s weird dirty laundry. “A diary then, hm? This where you detail how you screw over everyone?”

How humiliating. Alastor lost his cool around Lucifer. It felt like he had been beaten, worse still was how little the angel’s feathers were even ruffled. Alastor returned to his usual form, hiding behind that mask of a smile. A grating whine hissed out between clenched teeth. “No. That is the journal of my recently deceased friend if you must know. So before you get any funny ideas to poke your nose where it-- do you even have a nose?” Alastor motioned to his face, ready to always point out every fault as he walked around and behind him.

Lucifer uttered an undignified snort unfitting of his station, he had no reason to justify his perfection to a man who couldn’t see it. There was one point the king was stuck on. Alastor had a keepsake of a late friend. That didn’t match his preconceived perception of the Radio Demon. If it turned out to be true, he’d respect this stranger's privacy over Alastor’s. “I see, so you’ve been mourning. If you came out and told Charlie that, she’d give you all the space you need. Then I wouldn’t have to come up here to check on you.” Truly, Lucifer wished the man could be more appreciative of him coming down to waste his time with the bellhop of all things.

Alastor pinned his ears back, speaking through clenched teeth. “I was not mourning. I was busy. Do not read into things.”

Lucifer cocked a brow, this was a rare moment of weakness to latch onto. Tempting. “You’re fond of deals, aren’t you Allan?”

“Alastor.”

“Alabaster.” Lucifer waved him off, charging on ahead intentionally misspeaking his name. Like a mere sinner was worth remembering. Cherry-tipped fingers dug into Alastor’s wrist, fighting back the urge to teach this man some manners. Lucifer continued on, feeling almost generous as he made a deal. Not even bothering to look the sinner in the eyes, the crackling fire in the pit was a far more pleasant sight. 

“I won’t ask about this friend anymore if you will stop the ridiculous comments about being a… father figure to Charlie.” It was laughable, an undignified laughter escaped the king to prove to the crimson-clad demon HOW ridiculous it was. One that Alastor joined him in, leaning in with a glare.

“I worry for your poor ancient ears if I need to correct you twice in less than a minute. My name is Alastor, in case your senility doesn’t get the best of you this time. You can ask whatever you like about my late friend, he is dead. There is nothing more to say. Just as my dear daughter is too sweet to worry for me but I will be there for her in a few days.”

Two opposing red eyes clashed. A standoff of stares commenced with neither willing to break down. Lucifer quickly learned that… Alastor didn’t blink. Like at all. How fucking creepy was this guy? He conceded if only to save himself the displeasure of dealing with his breath. “Your friend is dead and buried. You don’t need this book anymore, do you? If you want I can throw it in the trash for you.” Lucifer smirked, daring him to call his bluff.

Alastor’s hands clenched behind his back. Wishing he was dealing with literally anyone else so he could string them up on a wire and mount their head on a pike. “That isn’t for you to decide, Your Majesty. How I take care of his last wishes is none of your business.”

Hmm, a good response. But he wasn’t ready to give up quite yet. He snatched one of the cookies, taking a bite as he mulled it over. “Hard to believe somebody would put their last wishes in your hand. Though that’s the second hardest thing to believe. What takes the cake is you honoring it.”

There were times when Alastor felt the temptation to frown. If only to drive home how inane some of the comments people would throw in his face. This was one of those. Showing any emotion was defeat, and an admittance he wasn’t a perfect God. Showing this rebellious angel that HE should be the one kneeling was the utmost priority. Lucifer already had the winning hand once; he refused to give it to him a second time. 

“Are you done yet? I know you must be curious how one you despise so much has so many friends! Meanwhile you sit up in your little tower stewing in your self-loathing. If only we could all be so self-indulgent.” To drive the point home Alastor turned his head, dusting off his shoulder. He was the filth in this room, and he wanted nothing more than to be RID of him.

“The thought of somebody fighting personal demons must seem quite self-indulgent with the way you keep hiding from yours. I came here because Charlie asked me to, I don’t care enough to pry what’s wrong with you. I’ll let her know you’re busy mourning and leave it at that. Enjoy the cookies.” Lucifer stood making the motion to make his exit then Alastor’s cane blocked his path.

“You will tell Charlie nothing of the sort. I have been busy.”

Lucifer pushed the cane aside, there wasn’t anything Alastor could do to keep him. He got as far as the doorknob when at least Alastor snapped his teeth again and grit so hard his jaw ached. “Fine. I’ll stop calling Charlie my daughter if you tell nobody anything other than that I’ve been busy. And not a single word about the book.” He should have burnt it when he had the chance.

Lucifer spun around, dropping his hand by his side. He was starting to feel a little guilty now, strong-arming Alastor into talking about something he wasn't ready yet. He was a shitty person who deserved the worst, but Lucifer held himself to a higher standard. “I won’t tell anyone. But.. you should talk to Charlie. When you’re ready. What you’re feeling right now won’t go away locking yourself away in a room. Trust me, I should know…”

The regent’s voice trailed off, memories of over half a decade spent in only his own company watching the day’s go by and feeling an emptiness that could only be felt when the other half of your soul disappeared. Left with questions and imagining worlds where Lucifer did the right things at the right time. 

“Thank you for your unsolicited advice, your Majesty. I’ll worry about myself, thank you.” Alastor curtly replied.

It wasn’t as though Lucifer expected better, but it still annoyed him to see Alastor act so rude. He left, closing the door abruptly behind him without so much as a good night. All the better. Alastor watched the closed door for a long time listening to the retreating footsteps until they faded into the distance.

Refusing to allow the Hotel to believe that he was doing anything such as moping, Alastor involved himself more diligently in the activities of the hotel than usual the next day. It turned out to be a good distraction from everything. Vox’s book continued to sit on the table, unread as Alastor always found some task or excuse to leave it there. Sometimes he was even convinced he’d have intentions to read it at last. Tomorrow Vox would still be just as dead. There really was no point.

When he stopped to really look at what was going on in the Hotel rather than focusing on his plots and machinations, Alastor began to notice a lot of things he hadn’t before. The gentle looks between Husk and Angel Dust. The change in Angel Dust in general, kinder to those around him and no longer sexually harassing people. Even Lucifer had been spared!

The stubborn Princess was bearing fruit despite all odds. Against all good judgement, she had even grown attached to him. It was utterly, dear. She must have had some fanciful hopes that he too was capable of redemption. It was cute, even if there was nothing about him that needed redemption. He was doing the universe a far greater service than Charlie with his routine taking out the trash; even if she didn’t have the eyes to see it.

Lucifer’s (lack of a) nose barging into his business was still unappreciated. As was Vaggie’s suspicion. The angel had got it into her fanciful little head he was up to something, with her rearing her head in his space more often than he’d like! Lucifer was right, in the end. Getting out and interacting with the others was a… good distraction. 

“You never spend this much time around the rest of us, what’s up?” Tucked away in what Alastor thought might be private up on the balcony, the same fallen angel had come to darken his company. His head craned back, only turning his gaze back long enough to look at her and then watched today’s redemption activity: Show and Tell.

Each individual had some item settled within their lap, of some sentimental importance. Angel Dust had his pig, Husker had a collar, Nifty carried a brooch, and Charlie had with her some book. Each one had a story about the individuals, some piece of their life that went on when he wasn’t looking.

Parts he never looked at. Because that never mattered. They still didn’t. Still, here he was wondering… if maybe he should have taken the time to look past the surface much sooner. “First Lucifer pesters me to spend time with you all, now I am being questioned as to why I am here. It seems I can not win either way.” Alastor cattily replied.

Vaggie stepped up to the balcony, her one eye still hard and skeptical. It swerved to watch his hands fidgeting with the edge of the wooden balcony. Arms folded against her chest, her shoulder bumped against the railing changing the subject on them.

“Lucifer told you? I thought you two hated each other.”

“Hate is a strong word my dear. That implies that I have some emotional investment in the tiny tyrant. Indifference is much closer, though you could also attribute dislike. There is no passion behind these feelings.”

“Sure looked passionate to me when you two were fighting when you first met.” Vaggie rolled her singular eye, adjusting her spear to be tucked within her other arm.

“A singular argument. Do you spare a second thought for all the people you’ve had a disagreement with?” Alastor brushed it off with a laugh, finally turning his attention to her. “Like myself? We’ve had plenty of tiffs. Do you hate me?”

“Well… no. That’s far too strong a word for YOU.” Vaggie conceded. With a heavy exhale she relaxed and brushed her hand through her hair. “So.. why are you here?”

“The Hotel IS my project, my dear! I could trust Charlie to handle it while I take care of some other business, but I always had full intention to return. I can’t let her handle it all on her own forever now can I! Lucifer has yet to prove himself reliable.”

“I still don’t trust you’re up to any good. You’re evil, and you don’t even try to hide it. Which is more than I can say for a lot of Overlords so I’ll give you that. What are you REALLY getting out of this?”

More laughter escaped the demon as he reached out and patted the fallen angel’s head. A sentiment that he was rewarded with through a smack of her hand. “It happens that aligning myself with Charlotte and her hotel is of benefit to me. Like anyone else I would rather prefer avoiding any premature death by the exorcists. Or do you think having the voice of the Overlords in the new landscape your dear princess cultivates wouldn’t be of use to me?”

A moment passed by in silence, with Vaggie not saying much of anything. It was Angel Dust’s turn speaking about Fat Nugget’s, and a story about how the pig had saved him once. The pig itself was blissfully content snacking from a tray Angel Dust brought to keep him focused as all four hands animatedly told a tale of bravery about the little swine. Alastor wasn’t– particularly a fan of pigs. They were too close to boars which to him were the spitting image of how he saw a man.

“I heard that Vox guy died.” The mention of his name from a place he didn’t expect sent a shiver up his spine. Without realizing it, his nails dug hard into the wood. Let that vile name rest.

“Is that so?” Alastor spoke as indifferently as he could, “I never knew a pig could be so important to anyone for reasons besides bacon. How sentimental.”

“Thought you’d be happier with how much you hate television. Though, I guess that doesn’t stop somebody even worse from picking up from where he left off.”

Another taking on the mantle of the Television Overlord. There had been many contender’s, once. Alastor devoured them all or cut them off from the air personally. Without his radio signals, Television was nothing! Until technology found some way to exist without it.

Tch.

He was absolutely. Fine.

“It’s as you say, somebody worse will take up what he left behind. The other Vee’s likely have cannibalized anything that was once his. Nothing changes in the end.”

Within those pages in the book were nothing but cherry-plucked sepia-toned memories! The best of the best! Such as the day when the two won a dancing competition in the ol’ Tapper’s Faire. Or the comical week when Vox kept bringing him flowers. Questioning why they always withered the next day. He tried a whole assortment of bouquets thinking he’d been ripped off by the florists only to notice by the fifth one they were wilting in his own hands! Ah- the look on his face! When he stormed out, Alastor was certain he’d left to cool off his anger. Only to return with a bouquet of silk flowers.

The single bouquet of wilting flowers was more than plenty, but to see others suffer to please him was too delicious to correct. Alastor discovered… he liked Silk Flowers. Something that can rot and wither is beautiful– but something that was never alive to begin with and made to be beautiful in only the places you looked? How much fun he had flipping over the ugly undersides of the leaves and petals until he’d pulled forth the true beauty of the bouquet.

Were Vox’s favorite memories different? In any case! None of the fights surely darkened those pages. The day Vox spent yelling at Alastor’s retreating figure. Certainly not the days when he became obsessed with that moth, spending less and less time with him. Or the night that Alastor had struck out at him in shock…

An unpleasant whine emanated from the Radio Demon when once more when he let his guard down his thoughts kept returning to that blasted man. How was it he could be doing fine one moment, and then the next feeling like his chest was being gouged out? With no confidant he could trust, he could only brush his fingers over the unpleasant feeling in his chest.

–

At the dawn of Friday Alastor had put himself right on Ms. Rhodes's doorstep. Few were as early risers as he was, but this Rhodes impressed him. Up and making breakfast before 6 am! Already dressed for the day and sunny as could be when she opened the apartment door. Perhaps she simply never slept, just like her son.

“Alastor! You’re quite the early riser. But it’s exactly what I expected of such a gentleman.” She declared getting a little more handsy than Alastor would have preferred when she fixed his sleeves. But he forgave the transgression as gratitude for her astute and accurate judgment of himself.

“Of course! I’m not interrupting your morning routine in any way am I?” Alastor asked even as he helped himself inside. The immaculate apartment was a breath of fresh air compared to the rotting dilapidated mess outside. A room he could be proud of! Even Niffty would approve no doubt. Though the ugly knick-knacks here and there were… distasteful.

“I was in the middle of making breakfast. Do you like omelets? I have some fresh peppers and mushrooms.”

“As long as it comes with coffee and not tea.” Alastor chimed.

“Of course! I don’t like the taste of tea.” A woman after his own heart! If it wasn’t for that rather blatant and oddly blunt homophobia the other day. Something he wasn’t sure if he wanted to broach.

He kept silent if only to save him the trouble of making breakfast tolerable. Once again she proved to be a rather garrulous woman. Telling a story about her neighbor, a long-winded account of how her mail ended up at the wrong P.O. box, and how it had become an entire thing to get it back by Involving the apartment manager. Eventually she hailed some loan sharks over who helped her out at the cost of some brownies and jerky she made as a bribe. Whatever was supposed to be INSIDE the package, he already forgot. Alastor lost interest about five minutes into the tale, there was no conversation to engage in so it was all noise in the background while he searched for those elusive felines.

What a horrible conversationalist. A terrible flaw if you asked Alastor. Coupled with the unfortunate statement of last night,even he was having some second thoughts on the woman. Unfortunately he did not possess the patience to entertain it much; already he was planning on decreasing the number of visits he did once she was moved in. Eighteen or so years of this must have made Vox into a damn saint. By the time the food was slid onto his plate, he felt an intense relief from the intense boredom he was suffering under.

Spicy, he could smell the capsaicin before anything else! If it wasn’t for her motor mouth, this woman would be a quick friend of his. There were few in Hell who weren’t flawed; it just happened it be that Ms. Rhodes had one that meant the more interesting and important individual at the table didn’t get a chance to speak.

“After breakfast, I’ll have my assistants carry your luggage my dear! All you’ll have to do is crate up your cats!”

The walk to Cannibal Town was anything but pleasant. A row of his shadow fiends carried her luggage leaving his hands free and Mrs. Rhodes was surprised and delighted upon her great fortune. Unfortunately, the woman was as much the motor mouth as always, and Alastor retreated into his own thoughts to escape the unending diarrhea of the mouth. Little things became more apparent to Alastor; such as the wad of gum stuck against the grout between bricks! Or the couple who was not very subtle about their amorous rendezvous behind trash cans, how classy. The presence of that obnoxious flat screen had not been cleansed, it was worse than ever being martyred by the Vee’s as a hero of the people. One such flyer caught underfoot, stained by the mud on his heel.

Televised advertisements no longer had Vox on them, but Velvette and Valentino. One sight that caused Alastor to halt his steps is when they introduced a new robot that had been made to reflect his likeness. A replica to be sold to households everywhere for an egregious price tag. No longer than twenty seconds of the revealed product could be swallowed before he smashed the window and the device with a tentacle and a particularly heavy rock.

By the time they got to the quaint little house that was to be her home he was… stressing on the word cozy? It was a relief. There were no signs of that blasted technology or the vultures preying upon the ghost of their former partner. HIS former partner. The size of the abode was modest, closer to a shack. It was the best Rosie could probably find under such notice, but real estate in the Pride Ring was valuable and even this was a grand luxury. Typically only a cannibal could ever hope to hold land in Cannibal Town!

In a matter of hours, she was moved in and his shadow fiends celebrated their fine performance with jazz, dance, and gorging themselves on a meal provided by Ms. Rhodes. It gave the man succor to greet and speak to the other cannibals in town, and even far greater when Rosie herself had arrived! Within her hands, she held a brightly colored patterned box. It seemed her good mood found her again with that smile on her face.

“Alastor! Lailah! Look at you two! Already done moving in?” Rosie exclaimed, the shift of her head only momentarily taken in by the dancing marionettes celebrating a job well done.

“You have impeccable timing Rosie! We just finished. I still need to unpack the rest of the kitchen but when I’m done I’ll have to make you two a batch of jerky to say thanks! I can make it extra spicy!” Lailah greeted Rosie warmly, it seemed even after such a rough first meeting things would be alright.

“How sweet of you dear. I wanted to apologize for the other day and my behavior! I realized later on I was being rather critical of a mother in mourning. I wanted to bring you a housewarming gift. To say sorry.” The box she carried in her hands was presented to Lailah with only a little hesitation. To her immense relief when she opened the box she saw normal fruit tarts. No sign of sinner flesh in sight!

Lailah pressed her hand over her heart, touched by the offering of grace. “Thank you so much, Rosie. I can’t believe my luck. My son made such wonderful friends. If you two don’t mind me taking a few minutes to unpack could I at least make you two some coffee?”

Alastor and Rosie both agreed without fuss. While Lailah unpacked the kitchen it also gave Alastor some time to speak with Rosie in the living room with its piles of boxes waiting to be unloaded. A modest space for her things and the furniture had been placed to give few walkways to get around.

The kitchen wasn’t in much better shape with Lailah taking her time as she dug around the boxes looking for the coffee machine. Ah right, Alastor had forgotten she had deferred to one of those… automatic coffee makers. It had diluted his excitement; if he wanted to drink sugar water he would prefer a tonic.

“So, how have you been Alastor?” Rosie broke the brief silence.

“Wonderful, I’ve taken it upon myself to engage with Charlie’s little… redemption activities. Not personally of course, but to observe it firsthand. It’s quite a riot. If anything it seems to build quite the rapport among the guests.”

“Really? That’s wonderful to hear.”

A silence fell between them. Rosie may have apologized to Lailah, but it didn’t seem as though one was forthcoming for Alastor. His hands twisted the top of his microphone, deciding to pick the topic for the day. “And you my dear? I recall you mentioning you’ve had no space to yourself. If you like, I can lend an ear.”

“That’s quite alright dear. I already lost one friend and a husband. I don’t need to lose you too.” An enigmatic smile spread across her pretty face. As much of a thorn in his side the current topic of conversation was, he agreed. Killing anyone else didn’t usually affect his life this much.

“Coffee’s ready!” Lailah’s sing-song voice saved the two of them from stilted conversation. Beautiful mugs with painted flowers on the surface were placed before the both of them. The typical lovely red roses for Rosie herself, and for Alastor were ones he wasn’t quite familiar with. He lifted the cup, taking a closer look.

“Those are lycoris flowers, aren’t they?” Rosie asked Lailah. Their host was pouring the last of the coffee from the carafe into her own mug adorned with peculiar three petaled violet flowers. Alastor couldn’t tell what they were either.

“Oh…? Is that what it’s called?” Lailah looked at the cup as if for the first time. “I just loved the flowers on the cup, they’re so beautiful aren’t they? I had to give the rose to Rosie of course! But Alastor? These seemed to fit him.”

Saved from the stilted conversation, talks about flowers and warning Lailah about the neighborhood bitch, Susan became a pleasant diversion. Drip coffee was as awful as Alastor expected but the tarts were good enough to make the subpar drink serviceable. The three parted on amicable terms.

And life… kept moving on.

Lailah ended up adjusting to the Cannibals around her like a chameleon. It only took a few weeks for her to start eating the local delicacies! While Ms. Rhodes made awful coffee (Something he tried to remedy by gifting her a French press as a housewarming gift), she turned out to be an exceptional cook! Full of spices as Alastor loved! Despite all her reservations, even Rosie came around to welcome Lailah into the neighborhood!

Most days it still felt more like talking to a wall, but at least he could enjoy her little rants about Susan. That woman had a wonderful way of bringing the community together by being completely unlikable! Soon the name that hovered over them all faded away, mentioned less and less. With it, Lailah even became a more pleasant company. Alastor could simply close his eyes and enjoy the gentle din of conversation when Rosie, Lailah, and himself would gather. Three was… always the best number for company.

Still.. that blasted book continued to gnaw at him. The intention to read the man’s last words was given up and put on a shelf. Out of sight, out of mind. Rosie and Alastor stopped mentioning his name.

Alastor learned about Angel Dust’s family, Husk and him reminisced about old times before he’d become his pet, Nifty even had a rare moment of coherence telling him about the time when she came to America. Lucifer and him still butted heads, unable to enjoy each other's company and that was fine. Charlie had even conned him into joining a redemption activity: Only one.

It was more enjoyable than he thought it would be.

A full season had passed, not that there was any meaning to them in Hell besides slightly colder and slightly hotter. After a while, Vox’s name stopped evoking that strange pain in his chest so Lailah’s constant gaffe’s stopped bothering him. It was only a name now. An old flyer sticking out of a trash can kept that familiar blue face fresh in his mind though.

That strange healing peace did not last forever unfortunately.

“Alastor! Rosie’s kicked me out of Cannibal Town! She only gave me a week to move everything out! I can’t move back into my apartment, the manager already found a new tenant and I don’t have anywhere else that has rent I can afford!” Alastor stepped aside, letting the woman enter his bedroom. He nodded at Vaggie who fixed him with a suspicious stare. Alastor waved her away, “Thank you so much for escorting my guest Vaggie. I’ll handle it from here.”

It was late in the evening, far past a time Alastor would normally welcome a woman into his bedroom, but the circumstances were enough to let it pass this time. Alastor’s gentlemanly behavior was known well-enough that nobody would think anything untoward would occur behind closed doors. Lailah had come all the way to visit him with tears in her eyes. He was hardly the type to be brought to pity by tears. Her wailing was grating and he wanted nothing more than to get her to leave. Strange how only a few months in her company and he was exhausted from her company. 

“Now now, quiet your tears dear. Why did Rosie kick you out?”

“I don’t know! We were talking about Vox earlier today. I was telling her about when he was a child and she got upset with me out of nowhere.” The sheep pinned her ears back, eyes wide and shimmering. That wasn’t an answer. How annoying.

“Why don’t you tell me a bit about what you were talking about? Maybe we’ll see what offended her so, hmm?” Not his preferred topic. Why couldn’t she just let the name stay buried? Alastor pulled out the chair across from her and took a seat.

Lailah dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. “I was talking about Vincent when he was a child and his brother. Rosie was surprised when I mentioned him so I was telling her about the two. Did he ever mention Thomas to you?”

“No… Vox never mentioned a brother. He never talked about his family at all to be fair.” He had mentioned everything but his family. His job, how he died, his marital status. Though everything was pretty vague around the school years when he thought about it.

“The two never did get along… I thought they’d grow out of it and become close when they grew up. Anyway, I was telling Rosie about how my husband adored Thomas. He was the apple of his eye! He was so smart, so handsome, an incredibly talented boy! He would do anything for him! Then when I was pregnant with Vincent, my husband told me to abort him! I didn’t of course, I had him anyway.”

So far Alastor couldn’t see what was so offensive to send Rosie into kicking Lailah out. It was quite honorable for her to have her son despite all the resistance. His ears bent forward as Lailah continued.

“Long story short, when Vox was about seven years old my husband left. He took Thomas with him and Vincent stayed with me.”

“Was that what you two decided, or did Vox and his brother decide which parent they wanted to stay with?” Alastor interrupted her.

“Vincent decided to stay with me, and Thomas with his father. My husband didn’t like Vincent even after he was born. I was the only one who wanted him, so it made sense. At least that’s what I thought but when I voiced that opinion that’s when Rosie got heated and threatened to eat me if I stayed in the house any longer.” The sheep trembled, holding her arms. “What should I do, Alastor?”

That still didn’t make sense. Which meant he would have to talk to Rosie tomorrow. 

“For now, we’ll have you meet Charlie! She’ll find you a room at the hotel. Have you considered redemption Ms. Rhodes?” This worked out in the end. He could get rid of a thorn that was growing far too familiar to him. Lailah could exhaust Charlie instead, the woman was an endless font of energy!

“I have but I don’t know what I could do. I have no idea why I am in Hell. I always did my best to be a good person, I believed in God, and I was faithful to my husband. I don’t know what I could have done to deserve to come down here.” Lailah lamented, looking toward Alastor for answers. None she would be getting, as he didn’t care nor know. The woman seemed quite delusional and completely unaware of her faults. Which was ten times worse than having them at all!

“Then that might be the first path to your redemption my dear. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone. It would be prideful to think that there is a single man or woman who is as clean as a whisk of a wave now isn’t it?” Alastor asked her as he rose to his feet. A hand on her back encouraged her to stand, only for her to fall against him in a way that instantly made him feel like insects were crawling beneath his skin. Alastor made a tight fist, fighting back the urge to skin her.

“You’re right… I truly have done everything I could to be a good person. God must have sent me down here for a good reason. I’d love to meet Charlie, since I can no longer be with my son, I’d like to go to Heaven..”

Good– get her out of his hair so he never had to deal with this annoying wretch any longer.

Chapter Text

Born with a darkness I could never quite shake

I would be made to feel shame for everything that could not fit the mold

What others had called an ugliness kept buried, you wore like a mantle

You rooted out what I kept hidden and found it beautiful

And I for once liked the man in the mirror

The clamor of the tea cups was a comforting sound. Hot coffee opposed to the lukewarm swill of boiled stale coffee grounds was as rejuvenating to the soul as a mother’s home-cooked meal. It had been months since Alastor last shared a table with Rosie alone but they still didn’t drink outside. Alastor did not think he wanted to invite the ghosts that haunted the backyard to join either.

“Susan bit the hand clean off a loan shark the other day Alastor, you should have seen it!” Rosie giggled, hiding her curved red lips behind her hand. The usual gossip felt homely. Alastor needed this, how he missed it.

“Hah! The ornery old bitch is as feral as always. What crime did this fella commit? Breathe in her general vicinity? Wear his hat backward like a hooligan?”

Rosie grimaced, shaking her head. “Oh, nothing quite so horrible as that! He commented that her fur looked like it came out of the rain gutter.” A moment passed between the two. Then the two laughed in unison.

“He is not wrong, the poor lad! Like an oversized dead rat left in the rain for a week!” Alastor agreed.

“Al!” Rosie smacked her hand lightly against his arm, barely a reprimand. The way her whole body shook with laughter she was only encouraging him! “You’re horrible!”

“Thank you, my dear! And you are as wonderful as always! I have missed this, you know!”

Rosie smiled, the gentle look on her face told Alastor she missed it too. His now oldest and dearest friend. “So, I’m guessing Ms. Rhodes sent you here. Am I right?” That was Rosie, perceptive as always. Alastor was loath to dismiss the fun. A pinky finger helped to wash down that bitter taste.

“She tells me that you got unreasonably upset with her when you two were talking about Vox and his… father? She was not too clear. Only that she didn’t understand why you were so mad at her.”

Rosie’s hollows became wide as saucers. Her delicate hand pressed against her breast in genuine shock. “Truly! She said she had NO idea?!”

“I would not lie to you about this my dear. I swear on my dear Mother’s name, she told me she has no idea.”

Rosie sighed, head falling against the back of her propped hand as though she had found herself suddenly exhausted. The damned damsel counted to three and raised her head. Fixing Alastor with a serious stare. “She was telling me about how she would remind Vox how his father didn’t want him so he’d stay with her. I asked her why she would tell her son, at six, that kind of thing. And she told me it was because he was an ungrateful child. Can you imagine?! Emotionally blackmailing your six-year-old child?”

Alastor could not understand the issue here. His mother had been rather strict with him and it made him turn out for the better. Nor did he need his mother to tell him that his father didn’t want him. He made that clear on his own. It never bothered him.

“And this was after bragging about how he was such a clever child learning to cook, clean, do laundry, and do his homework all by himself since he was five.”

Alastor sucked through his teeth. His mother had him assist her with cooking dinner in the kitchen and helping with chores as well. But he wasn’t left to do all of it by himself until he was much bigger. “I helped my mother with her chores when I was a little lad as well. What about it?”

Rosie caught her face in her hands again. “She never treated him like a son. He was always simply a slave who couldn’t tell her no and couldn’t leave her. The woman never gave a shit about her son, none of the memories she talks about are never about time they spent together or even about him as a person. She has coffee and scones with her son’s murderer and doesn’t bat an eye because he spoils her rotten. Why don’t you see how fucked up this is Al?”

Alastor laid one hand over the other, dwelling on it. “...I can’t argue that.”

“Vox cut her out of his life because she’s a leech. She’ll do it to you too.”

An old memory surfaced of that evening on the cliffside on Lover’s Pointe. “You, Rosie, and Cyril are different. You all have aspects I would despise you for because I don’t have them, but it’s different with you three and I don’t know why. I finally have ALL those eyes I wanted on me my ENTIRE life and they meant nothing to me in the end. I only needed one to see and accept me, and I’ve never felt so at peace with myself as I do now.” Vox had the gentlest smile, the dying light of the day reflected on his screen. There was a smudge of blood still on his screen that looked so beautiful.

The weight on his shoulder as his companion fell asleep was a type of vulnerability, not Mimzy, Rosie, or anyone else had surrendered to him. He wouldn’t welcome it from anyone else, whose skin, sweat, and flesh would have only made him feel filthy. But the plastic casing was only a thing. A thing that held a soul, and when his hand settled on the back to keep it secure it was like touching a part of the world he’d never known before. Gentle like the sweetest melody. And a realization that one day he’d have to destroy that man for the silly crime of trusting him so implicitly.

When Alastor returned to the present he swallowed a breath to ease the suffocation he felt around his chest. Memories of sweeter, better days were best left in the past, such as the warm summer days he spent by his mother’s side in the bayou. When the streets were alive with jazz, his blade was never thirsty with the taste of racist blood spitting in the face of his dear mother.

There was some hope reflected in the hollows of Rosie’s eyes. Searching for some fragment of sympathy that might still exist for the old friend of so many decades. The hate between them was strong, but that could have only existed when there was an equal love between them for it to take space. Alastor pinned his ears back, excusing himself from the table. “I must… speak with Ms. Rhodes now. I fear her testimony will still clash with yours but I trust you, Rosie.”

“Before you go, Al. There’s… something I want to tell you. I’m sure you must be wondering why I care this much.” Rosie made a bitter face, swirling the silver spoon in her coffee cup trying to whisk away the fear of a confession.

“I have wondered, yes. But if it’s not my business, it is hardly fair for me to force it out of you.” His curiosity was bad enough that he could taste it last time. Now that he was faced with the possibility he had an inkling it was something he didn’t want to hear. Alastor wanted to leave, to avoid hearing this confession. The vague realization of what it truly might be felt heavy.

“I’m sure you remember, but after Cyril died in that first extermination I mourned him for a long time. It sent me into a dark place and I don’t think I would have gotten out of it if it wasn’t for you two. Vox was… an especially hard rock for me. He’d bring my favorites so I’d eat something that day, or he’d bring me comedy movies to watch in hopes it’d make me laugh. Sometimes it did, despite myself.”

By now Alastor had an understanding that this might take a while so he sat back down in his seat, giving Rosie his full attention.

“I got worse. I got better sometimes, then I’d end up in a far worse pit than the first time after Cyril died because it would finally hit me that he was gone forever. He wasn’t simply gone for a while but-- all I had were memories. Memories that would become more indistinct as time went on and… Vox helped me put together a scrapbook. Even if we only had a few photos there were things like flowers, tickets, scrap drawings, anything to tuck into an album.”

That… sounded a lot like the old Vox. He was always quite the doting caretaker type. Never showed when he was struggling. Finding a smile, charming people with his easy going personality. Displaying this absurd emotional intelligence Alastor lacked in helping people feel better. It was beyond what Alastor could comprehend. And he didn't want to. Alastor was cold, and hard, and he didn’t want to let anyone find anything weak or to feel weak ever again.

Just one more way the two were direct reflections of one another. His soft and charming appearance hid the cold interior beneath that brokered no gentleness. Vox with a body that was completely inhuman housed a tenderness that felt too similar some days.

“Then things started to get better. He… dressed up like one of those Victorian gentlemen straight out of a regency film and took me out on the town trying-- and failing to talk like one too. I spent a lot more time laughing than talking to him that day and I...” Rosie stopped there, covering her reddening face with her hand. Simultaneously Alastor felt something ice-cold settle in the pit of his gut. “I became infatuated with Vox. We even went on a date. He kissed me and it was… magical, I even tried to invite him inside but–”

Rosie lowered her hand, staring straight into Alastor’s eyes. He didn’t want to hear it, the smile on his face strained, and his hands dug into the table. So what if his two best friends dated each other? It was in the past and didn’t last.

“He said he couldn’t see me anymore because he realized that he was already in love with somebody else.”

What? Alastor furrowed his brows. There was one date that Alastor could remember clearly about Vox going on. The smudge of lipstick on his screen was burned into his mind like a brand. That COULDN’T have been Rosie, could it?

“...I had known Vox to be an idiot, but to refuse you of all people in Hell? The man is blind, deaf, and stupid.” Alastor tried to pass off the statement covering his grin beneath his hand even as his signal went wild. Alastor did NOT know it was her.

“I know what you did, Alastor. I’m not mad, either. Truth was, I lost. Or maybe, I just never had a chance. You are an idiot though, and I wish Vox didn’t have to pay the price for it.”

Alastor rose to his feet, pushing back plates and his coffee cup spilling the remainder onto the delicate lace tablecloth. “Vox is the one who ruined everything! And he reaped what it was he sowed, Rosie. He tried to kill The Radio Demon and was lucky enough his death was quick. What lingering affection I had for him was spent there– any other would have suffered for weeks and you know that.”

Rosie was unperturbed, still holding her tea cup to her lips. The usually gentle motherly nature had sharpened, cold eyes of a cannibal that could ruthlessly tear apart her husband and… even her best friend if it came to it.

“Is it? Because neither of you will tell me what HAPPENED. You two have been at each other’s throats for years, even before you disappeared. I love you Al, you know this. But I refuse to believe Vox is completely in the wrong. And I will resent you for taking what was to be mine, and then destroying it.”

Rows of razor sharp teeth stretched across the splitting face of the Radio Demon, inky black tar oozing from the gaps of his razor sharp teeth as an ethereal chuckle emanated from the back of his throat. “And he was always mine to destroy Rosie, because you lost.”

A silence filled the room.

The clatter of the tea cup settling back in the saucer was more poignant for it, Rosie refusing to meet the eyes resembling ricocheting dials. Regrets were becoming an increasingly familiar feeling, and Alastor hated it. And still, he refused to apologize. He stood to his full height, fixing his sleeves and his appearance. “I should be going. It seems I have much to discuss with Ms. Rhodes.”

“...Of course. Do take care of yourself, Al.” Rosie impassively responded. The terrifying face of the demon had haunted the nightmares of many, but the Queen of Cannibals refused to be intimidated. Dismissed so easily, Alastor could only return to his usual harmless looking self. His red fingertips lingered on the ends of his bow tie.

“I always do. I--” Crimson eyes flicked back to Rosie, still with that bitter smile. What must still be there, if Rosie kept his body buried next to her second husband? Did anything happen in his seven year absence? “Why did you two stop talking to each other?”

Rosie raised her head, then shook it. “Vox started to… change. He became extremely paranoid, thinking I was going to kill him. Valentino and then Velvette were the only ones he was willing to trust. Vox put up a wall that day, after the fight you two had.”

Alastor grit his teeth, curling his fingers tight around the mic which squinted its eye in misery. “He didn’t deserve you, Rosie.” At least that he felt confident saying when he left the room. Not that he felt like it was any consolation for her. Alastor didn’t think there was a man or woman in hell worthy of her.

As luck would have it, having an audience with Lailah was a simple affair. She was up and already waiting for him in the lobby with her tail shaking with excitement. As the master of always maintaining the smile on his face, she even believed he had good news! If only she were half as aware of the anger broiling beneath. Luckily for her, Alastor’s mother had always taught him to treat women well, and although this woman was closer to a leech in his eyes he was hardly the type to abuse her.

“Alastor! Welcome back, did you talk to Rosie?”

“Why, yes I did! And we have managed to clear everything up as much as we are able! Why don’t you take me back to your room and I will, ‘Spill the tea’ as the kids these days like to say. When something coherent rambles through their mouths in any case.”

Angel Dust raised his head from the couch, raising one limp arm to acknowledge the two. “Hey, it’s Creepy Smiles! You missed out on the jerky Mom here has been giving out! That shits fucking good! We shoulda brought home a mom about.. a year ago at least! How come nobody around here cooks!?”

“I COOK!” Niffty leaped onto the couch, her large rheumy eye fixated on Angel Dusts as her body bent double to stare into his. A healthy amount of fear had Angel cringing against the back of the couch, sliding to the side to avoid getting stabbed.

“Yeah, I don’t know what kind of… bugs you’re putting in your casserole. But I ain’t risking it.”

“That’s disgusting! Bugs aren’t for food, they’re for STABBING!”

Alastor cut in, “That’s quite alright, I have had plenty to eat at Rosie’s. So, by your leave Lailah?” His hand settled on her shoulder, guiding her toward the stairs. With only gentle encouragement she took the lead and as always told him about her morning.

“I was worried about staying here at first! When I saw the commercial for this place I thought it didn’t… look too trustworthy, no offense. I mean, the commercial was awful! Especially the first one.”

Normally Alastor would stop somebody here before they put their foot in their mouth. But he maintained his composure and mask-like smile. His eyes became half-lidded, taking a keen interest in what she had to say for once.

“But the people are nice here! Charlie is an absolute doll! Vaggie’s a little scary but I know she means well. The two are such adorable friends too! I love it. I was a little worried about talking to a porn star, putting your body out there on the camera? Why, it’s not what God intended for your body at all. And only with men! It’s no wonder he ended up in Hell. But he’s a sweet boy when you talk to him, and he has good taste in men. I had a lot of fun talking to him about boys.”

She did not stop talking even as they got to the door. The threadbare room Lailah was given did not stay that way long, Lailah already had some of her things moved in. Mostly clothes and a few of her knick-knacks. The two felines who were previously sleeping on the bed took one look at him and scurried beneath the bed. He never was good around animals.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to move any furniture in here yet! I didn’t want to risk going into Cannibal Town myself in case Rosie was serious and she’d eat me. So I asked Charlie and Vaggie to help me and they grabbed my essentials for today. They’re such sweet girls. I’ll have to make them brownies later. So, what did Rosie say?”

Lailah liked to butter people up with food, something Alastor was quickly beginning to realize.

“That won’t be necessary my dear, I don’t intend to stay for long. Rosie told me some interesting facts you shared with her about how you raised Vox, or more accurately, didn’t raise him. Now, I won’t tell a mother how to raise her son. Just like I won’t tell an Overlord how to run their territory.”

“What do you mean? I raised my son! I can’t believe Rosie would say something like that!”

“Rosie was telling me how you bragged about how he took care of himself from a young age and took on half the housework. Quite impressive for a young child indeed! And to balance school and studies on top of that! Surely that is why he’s become quite the successful man he is today.”

Lailah blinked. Unsure if she was being complimented or reprimanded. “Of course! He was a capable boy and it was his house too so it made sense he should take care of half the chores. Vincent wasn’t bringing in any money from school. With his father running off; he was still eating a lot and burning through electricity.” 

“Be that as it may, Rosie finds your method appalling enough that she doesn't want you in Cannibal Town anymore. Arguing with me won’t change that.”

Lailah huffed, hugging her chest. “I’m sorry that my best wasn’t good enough! I was a single mother doing everything I could all by myself to raise a son who never showed a lick of appreciation for me in his life! And what do I get?” Lailah threw her hands up, curling around the room as she continued. “He blames me for his suicide! Pretends he doesn’t know me in Hell, and now I get thrown on my ass because I wanted him to pull his own weight around the house. Being a mom is the most thankless job in the world!”

That was… new. Vox mentioned he committed suicide on television before but he never said it was addressed to her. How many decades might have passed before Alastor met Vox if this woman hadn’t suffocated him on the vine? Would he still be the same man? “Nonsense. I am thankful to my mother every day. I took excellent care of her until my dying day and even now I carry myself on in her honor. If she were in Hell, she’d live like royalty. But she was an angel and dwells in Heaven, as she should. She raised me all by herself after my father’s death, though she never made me feel obligated to pay her back a penny. Not that it meant anything as all my free money went to her.”

“You’re a far better person than Vincent then. He was a selfish child that never wanted to spend time with his Mother or–” Lailah threw her hands up in defeat. Such a melodramatic woman. “Always going on about how hard his life was. MY life was hard! He had it so good, but he never wanted to bother looking past his own misery.”

It was at that moment too that Alastor felt something– snap. He was done. Done with her overpowering every conversation, done with her casual homophobia, done with her victim complex. Done. Just done.

“It must be exhausting to always be the victim. The world is truly cruel toward you isn’t it Lailah? A husband who leaves you, a child you need to emotionally blackmail just to keep them by your side. Then as soon as you no longer have control over them, they abandon you too. And your new friends are so unreasonable. If I were capable of pity, It would overflow from me. But to be honest, it delights me.” The wide glowing smile on his face stretched, eyes squinting in delight. When the manipulative pity party did not have the intended effect, her eyes widened with horror and a startled gasp.

“I feel sorry for you if that’s how you feel. That must be why you’re in Hell. Not an ounce of sympathy for a Mother who has done her best with what she could.” Lailah’s voice earned an edge, the crocodile tears finally ceasing. Good, he was about to get hungry again.

“Ohoho! No no no no!” Alastor denied, shaking his head with delight. The sickening sound of bones cracking sounded like a premonition. Neck stretched out, antlers branched out, and the once pupils altered in a state of radio dials. “I’m in Hell because I murdered people who deserved it! And here they are, the chaff cut from the wheat to have my pick, I am thriving! Are you?”

Lailah’s fists trembled, not with fear but anger. She screamed, wailed even. “Get out! I don’t want to see your face anymore! Since you CLEARLY want nothing more to do with me! You’re just as horrible as Vincent! I never loved that brat anyway, all he did was eat me out of the house and home and bug me with all his melodrama. I was GLAD when he killed himself.”

“Oh dear, oh dear! It seems I’ve hit a nerve! And the true feelings come out, you’re quite nasty aren’t you! You should wear this face more often! It’s more endearing.” Despite himself, he was sincere as his cane tipped at her chin. Mocking and even triumphant to see her breaking out into a temper tantrum. She lost. Lailah bared her teeth, but she didn’t have the courage or gall to do more than that yet. With a demeaning pat to the top of her head, he left the bedroom.

Yet, it would seem he wasn’t quite allowed to leave in peace. Charlie was standing outside the bedroom looking concerned. Her eyes were wide, hugging her arm as she wasn’t sure how to take the knowledge that Lailah had inadvertently leaked through the door. “Good afternoon Charlie, what are you doing here half-dressed? Come on. Let us see a smile!”

Charlie’s brow furrowed, her voice fragile. “Alastor, what were you talking to Ms. Rhodes about in there?”

“Hm? Oh, we have a mutual acquaintance in her son who died from an angelic weapon recently.” Alastor bent forward, whispering into her ear as if she could have missed it all as he gripped his cane. “I believe you have your work cut out for you dear with this one! Do you think it might be postpartum? Imagine so much resentment toward your child. Anyway, I have things to do and places to be. Don’t wait for me.”

Charlie snatched Alastor’s sleeve before he could take even two steps. The Overlord straightened his shoulders, finding the patience in him to forgive her putting her filthy hands on his clothes. Mother would be so… unhappy with him! “Alastor, please wait. Did you… antagonize her on purpose?”

Alastor’s head spun ninety degrees, the sight frightened Charlie enough to seize her hand back. As was… half his intention. “Charlie! Have you so little faith in me? Your most stalwart ally! I’m wounded, truly! Heartbroken. Sometimes to heal, you need to hurt first. First you must amputate the rotting wound! Remove the cancerous growth. We’ve identified where it is, but it is up to you my dear to excise it! Good luck!”

With a snap, his head swiveled into place, the hard click of his shoes muffled by the humming of an old jazzy tune. Nothing like the pull of music to pull him back to older, better days. Rich and steeped with nostalgia and where the burdensome details had been stripped clean and nothing but the beautiful remained. Ahh, it has been ages since he listened to ol’ Miles Davis! His record of Blue Haze had been played until the wear had distorted it. He considered replacing it, but the clean sound didn’t sound quite right either. Oh, to have another dance to Four! With the hiss of the needle and the patter of the rain against the window made even the gloomiest overcast days fill with colors.

Charlie watched Alastor’s retreating figure, fading into the shadows that always took him. There was a feeling that she wouldn’t see him for the rest of the night. The whims of the Radio Demon made his presence… tenuous at best. And the bloodlust radiating from him was palpable.

Chapter Text

Never had I known something to feel so empty as your echo

The places where you once stood are afterimages

Such as the window where the dying evening light cast your silhouette

I can still hear your song, and it makes the silence deafening

Some days I fall asleep listening to the scratch of the record player

Dreaming you were still there

Alastor walked for a long time, milling about Pentagram City’s streets. No direction, no aim. Only a need to be alone with his thoughts, away from the rabble of the Hotel. Alastor saw countless people milling about. The smartest of them knew to keep a wide berth. However, one unfortunate soul had blocked his path. A drunkard with a bottle in a paper bag, stumbling with his head pressed into his palm. Groaning and muttering some incomprehensible nonsense he could care less for.

Alastor did him a kindness, standing with his cane pressed against the concrete waiting. A gray fox sinner by the looks of it, though his hair was so bedraggled he could be one of those… ugly designer dogs. Or Susan’s scarf. The drunkard’s foot smacked against the cane, caught his balance, and sent his body toppling forward. “Eeey… whatchwereyagoinistmrmhrgh...”

Those crusty reddened eyes were… an eyesore. The putrid smell of alcohol reached him even here. Alastor’s nose twisted. “I suppose you will do...” It wasn’t the type of rabble he normally bothered with. The rude, the disrespectful, the kind who harm the women in the streets? They were his preferred hunts. This was only a sad pathetic man beaten by life, and it’d be funny if he wasn’t feeling this odd emptiness inside. A pleasant warm-up, he decided. Alastor threw his cane into the air, fading into green mist as several tentacles sprouted from his back. A thick black tendril coiled around his ankle. With a flick like the start of an orchestra, he swung him up like a baton and released.

The body flew, spiraling in midair in a beautiful arc. The eyes of the on-lookers froze in curiosity until the drunk fell hard against the pavement. Brains splattered against the concrete, his shoulder bone jutting out of his flesh, legs broken in angles that nobody ought to be twisted. A palpable silence made even the inhale of the fresh acrid smell of piss and shit of a man losing his bowels contaminated the air. Hardly a bouquet Alastor cared for normally, but today it was decadent. The screams that followed were like the call of a chorus! The only fitting chorus in Hell!

Men, women, and otherwise were sent running into the streets clearing a path for the crimson overlord. With one large jaunt over the body, Alastor resumed his cane spinning the length between his fingers. Once more humming the tune of Four, his nearest and dearest track from the worn-out record. Alastor’s hunt was not satisfied with one soul! He found another feral upon a woman in the alleyways tearing off her clothes. So he tore their flesh from their bones and snacked on it like a gourmet treat.

The reflection of the demon in their misty eyes was a masterpiece that he missed in his far too long sabbatical and stay in the hotel. Oh, dear Charlie would be so sad to see him now but he didn’t care! He wanted to see more blood. Alastor wanted to hear more bones snapping like poetry. To see the light in the eyes of so many snuffed out with the last thing they beheld his elegant face.

The vile and the wretched fed his gullet as the mobs overpowered the powerless.

Thieves lost more than a hand and scraped across the pavement until they were nothing but a pulpy mess on the concrete. Blood flowing from the streets in rivulets into the storm gutters.

But it wasn’t enough! Entire haunts of gangsters had their establishments torn open. The beastly form smashing bodies beneath his claws and others punctured and strewn apart like confetti. Alastor wasn’t sad anymore! He was euphoric! The smile on his face split his face in two, the stitches visible straining to keep it from cutting his entire face in half. None of these corpses bothered him like that lifeless metal! It was disgusting, filthy flesh and blood and filth, bacteria crawling in his skin and infesting him with their rot.

A glutton using a child as a footstool was Alastor’s newest prize, pinched between his claws. His eyes twinkled as he imagined tearing into the pervert biting the head clean off. That would be too quick though. So he nibbled on his toes, his leg, and his fingers until he blacked out. The rest of him was discarded, too fatty for his tongue. Without paying attention to the arc of the throw, the sound of broken glass filled his ears. They swiveled back. The clockwork turn of his head echoed the rumble of dead branches snapping when he saw the storefront of an abandoned office building. An old sign hung crooked, faded from the years with the neon lights having died decades ago.

--------------------

An A overlaid with a V. AV Studios. An old but familiar design. Half of it remained plastered all over the city, where his presence had been stripped clean. When Vox scrubbed his entire presence from his life. HOW dare he make it so easy! When the bastard’s spectre refused to let him be. He only knew peace, but his life should be a smorgasbord of euphoria! And he was euphoric… until the meddlesome foil reminded him again of his absence.

The concrete was breaking apart in places, it was surprising there was still glass inside to tear apart. The limp body of the sinner impaled by so many glass shards lay on the floor, staining the burgundy carpet with fresh blood. Alastor’s feet stumbled as he shrunk back down to his normal side, pressing his shoulder against the doorway to look inside. His rampage must have lasted a lot longer than he expected. Everything on him was covered in blood. But blood was the only thing that didn’t feel filthy in this world.

It was the only thing that could cleanse it.

Looters had taken everything that once occupied the building. Anything that wasn’t nailed down long gone. The carpet was disgusting, littered with trash from the squatters that once made it a home. Slabs of concrete from places the walls had been shot, beat in. Crude art in spray paint reminded Alastor where he was. In Hell. These men were beyond redemption. But Alastor could remember it. The place where the large L-shaped desk that held Vox’s computer and the man in his favorite office chair. Where Alastor would always find him in the early hours of the morning burning the midnight oil and Alastor always had to make some excuse to drag him away. Until Vox gave him the excuse to yank him home if he stayed past a certain hour.

Alastor’s old studio used to be in a Radio Tower in the back, now dismantled and nothing more than a pile of rubble.He could remember the excitement as Vox showed him scripts fresh from the writers with stories he thought Alastor might like. But Vox never thought to look for things he liked. It was one of his most annoying faults, he wished the man could be more selfish in those days. If he was, then maybe Alastor would have gotten to know him a little better too.

So this all made sense.

The old stove remained, filthy and disgusting with old food caked around the burner. There was still a drip machine that Vox drank out of, but he got a kitchen so Alastor could make coffee the way he liked. The percolator was long gone. Not that any of the unwashed sinners here would know what they had, they probably used it for some inventive weird drug.

Alastor took the stairs, finding the corridor crowded with more trash. Trash everywhere! It was hard to even see the carpet beneath! Though Vox at least talked some sense in him to avoid that with stairs. It WAS a bitch to clean as Niffty always reminded him at the hotel. At least HE didn’t need to clean it. The second floor had desks meant for the employees. Most of the souls belonged to Vox, doing routine mundane tasks like paperwork, keeping schedules, and writing. There were a lot of women under their employ after that suggestion from Mimzy. Vox was always quite popular with the women in those days.

Alastor enjoyed watching him turn them down one by one, while hypocritically telling him to be nicer about it.

A few desks survived, thanks to their damaged state. Legs are broken, some covered in… unidentified fluids that would remain as such. This place should have been bulldozed long ago. It needed to be burned to the ground to cleanse it. It was strange that even in the expansion of the Vee’s this relic remained. 

The break room was in a closed space on the second floor, where the record player and the chess board used to be. Another damned drip machine, but if Alastor voiced wanting a cup then Vox would always find somebody not working hard enough to make it the way he liked. Alastor was quite capable of doing it himself, but the princess in him wanted to be spoiled.

The cabinets remained but they were broken with some doors torn off. The window was shockingly intact in this room with faint moonlight streaming in through. On another day, this place was part of his everyday life. Today, it was another graveyard. The howl of the wind rattled the window, drafts crept in from the cracks in the building pulling up trash, dirt, and leaves that hissed as they crawled against the pavement.

The old couch remained, in tatters. The leather was ripped with the stuffing coming out. Sitting on it looked unappealing but beyond all his better senses he conjured a wet napkin and wiped down a section for himself. The unattractive brown color on the napkin convinced him to give it a more thorough scrubbing. With elbow grease provided by his tentacles before he took his seat, sinking into the cushion.

It was hard and lumpy, the worst seat he’d ever taken. When he leaned back, Alastor could see the afterimage of Vox standing right there by the window. He was always so animated. If it wasn’t that comical screen, it was the way he would move his arms when he spoke. The inflection of his voice. The two of them were of the same breed, knowing exactly how to pull in a crowd by never boring them. But this was… different.

Alastor was always on the air in his mannerisms. Whether he was with others, when he was alone, when he was with Vox. But Vox? Vox had many faces! When he was the boss he was more dominant, terrifying, and intriguingly powerful. When he was on the air? So friendly you’d think he’d be the first person to walk an old lady down the street! A life of course. And when he was alone with Alastor…?

He was bright.

There was an energy to his smile that he never showed anyone else. The way he talked about his projects, his dreams, the growth of his territory. The happiness was infectious. In a way, Alastor was happy too. The chain remained, but it wasn’t closing around his throat with the threat of death always at his heel.

As the light of twilight died, darkness shrouded the room. However, it never got completely dark in The Entertainment district. Neon signs illuminated outside the window. Thankfully their light could not reach this building, like a capsule lost to time. The strength in Alastor’s body started to leave him as he relaxed. In the distance, he could hear the faint sound of Jazz playing in another building. Though he wasn’t sure if he was… hearing things thanks to his nostalgia or if some strange soul resonated with him tonight. The exhaustion was catching up with him and before he knew it darkness took him.

“Come on, let’s get you home old man.”

When Alastor awoke, a familiar voice called to him. One he’d only heard in recordings anymore. He didn’t want to open his eyes, in case that ended the dream here. So Alastor pretended to be asleep. Until an unnaturally cold hand touched both his shoulders, jostling him. They were cold and hard with pinpricks going into his shoulder. And it was perfect.

“Al? It’s not like you to fall asleep here. Did you work yourself too hard?”

Alastor dared to open his eyes. A familiar CRT screen stared back at him. The man in his little yellow turtleneck sweater, chocolate brown jacket, and those technicolor eyes in pools of red. Something in his chest constricted, coiling so thick around his heart that something burned behind his eyes. A dream. 

“I don’t want to hear that from you, considering your notorious reputation for late nights Vox.”

A gentle closed-mouth smile the likes he’d not seen in over a decade reflected on the artificial screen. A smile that Alastor had forgotten. The one that was only for him. “You got me there. But… you don’t belong here anymore. Nor do I.” The illusion that this was a memory in the past faded away like a soap bubble. Fragile as it was, it was beautiful as long as it lasted. The ugly trash-filled room returned, but the man remained. The darkness didn’t swallow him whole anymore, the gentle artificial light from the screen meant he was never left in the dark.

“You died,” Alastor stated as a fact.

“I did,” Vox confirmed with a bitter turn on the corner of his lips. “And I never thought you’d feel bad about it either. Proooobably should have thought about that before you killed me, you know.” That charming little wink didn’t feel out of place, it felt… like his old friend returned. Alastor stretched his hand out to grab his sleeve. The firm arm was still there, it didn’t fade away with his touch.

“I found your journal. I didn’t know you could write poetry, what other talents did you keep from me all this time? If you weren’t so swamped with so much work I would say you should fire your writers.” Alastor snorted, as laughable as the idea was to imagine that man bent over a desk composing poetry of all things.

“That old thing? That’s pretty embarrassing. I think I jinxed myself the night I told you I’ve never been able to fall in love. Two years? Two decades and that fire still won’t burn out. Maybe it’s because you were never mine? I’ll never know. But… it’s not like you ever felt the same.” The smile faded from his screen. The cyan eyes fell to the floor as his claw overlaid Alastor’s hand.

This was only a dream, so he could say whatever he wanted. Vox was dead, he wasn’t here. This was some illusion, a mirage, a deception born from some piece of him he’d deny lived within him to the end of his days.

Still he didn’t want to say a thing. Alastor rose from the couch, swiftly burying his face into Vox’s chest. Vox’s arms wrapped around his body, feeling exactly like he had hoped it would. Hard, firm, cold, and inorganic Everything he wanted, just as he always remembered it. Vox stood there, unsure of what to make of the situation for the longest time. His hands ran down Alastor’s back, with such care like he was handling a priceless treasure or a piece of glass. Terrified that he might shatter or break in his hands, which was a ridiculous sentiment who once wanted him dead. It was… the closest that Alastor ever felt to seeming human. Experiencing a human warmth that didn’t make his skin crawl.

“Al...” Vox’s voice poured into his ears, the light of his screen dimming in response to how close their faces now were. Not that Alastor moved it an inch. He could smell the familiar cologne he always wore. He could hear the artificial beating heart beneath his ribs. Alive, beating, pumping blood. Not the cold, lifeless carcass sitting in the earth in Rosie’s backyard.

“Why did you do something so foolish? It was like you wanted to die.”

Vox didn’t answer. Of course he didn’t. If Alastor didn’t know, then this imaginary Vox couldn’t either. His ears pinned back, and the permanent smile on his face eased. Nobody could see him right now, so he didn’t need to be strong. Even SHE couldn’t reach him here. 

“When you first died, I thought that I didn’t know you at all. So many things didn’t make sense to me anymore. So I sought answers because I thought it’d bring me closure. I found your mother, and I thought to myself that it was a good thing you were dead.”

Vox didn’t speak, but his body did stiffen at the mention of his mother. He only listened, petting his back.

“Then bits and pieces of the puzzle came in. And now everything makes far too much sense. Why you clung to me in those early days, why you looked so happy that day at Lover’s Pointe, or why you worked yourself to the bone to impress me. When your mother told me that she was glad you died, it made me realize you were always just as alone as I was. Always what everyone else wanted to see.”

The chest that his cheek pressed against raised as Vox sucked in a deep breath. Feeling the movements of another human being was so foreign to him, but comforting. “Al. I’m dead, telling me this won't change anything now. Even if I wasn’t…” The brush of those claws found their way against Alastor’s cheek, sliding across the bloody ashen flesh collecting between their blades. “The man you miss disappeared the day you did. I changed.”

Vox with the flat screen. The one with the dark blue blazer who hypnotized the masses and swallowed that Moth’s tongue down his throat. The Vox here now was his old friend who could charm anyone and get himself out of any situation no matter how dire. Convinced Alastor to let him live, rallied a group of cannibals to fight against their Overlord, and managed to win the heart of the most wonderful woman in all of Hell. The one with the fat head that struggled to balance when he danced, got stuck in cabinets, and Alastor could look into and joke that it was empty.

This was…A dream.

“And I am no longer the man I was either. I’ve changed too.” Alastor confessed.

Vox spun the two around, at first Alastor thought they might start dancing. He raised his head, but instead, Vox pulled away and fell onto the couch offering his hand for Alastor to join him. The always present smile threatened to disappear, even at this point it was hard for him to confess even to himself he wanted to. When it became apparent he wasn’t going to join, he patted the couch beside him.

He took the leap of faith. Taking Vox’s lap to press the side of his head against Vox’s shoulder. A cold claw brushed against the other side of his face, tucking away his hair. An arm as a pillow to support his body while the other hand pressed against his knees to keep him balanced. There was no warmth to speak of radiating from this body, and that made it perfect. He didn’t want that. He only wanted to hear him breathe. To hear the fall and rise of his chest, the gentle white noise of those fans in his body he could only hear when he got close or he was overheating.

“You’re a complete mess. My clothes are going to be completely soaked in blood now, did you take a literal blood bath or something?” Vox joked.

“Tomato juice actually. I got hit by a skunk, so your clothes are ruined beyond repair now. You can think of it as my revenge on you for dying.”

When he was held like this, Alastor could feel Vox’s whole body shake when he laughed. It was a gentle noise, and the feel of those cold claws tickled his cheek. Alastor had watched that man tear a man open like he was butter and he was being so careful and gentle with them right now. “What tomato bath has...” Vox plucked a finger out of his hair, holding it in front of his face.

Alastor snatched it and popped it into his mouth. A devilish smile made its reappearance as the bone crunched between his gnashing yellow teeth. “Bath snacks. Thank you.” Vox’s body shook as he laughed again, head bending down to the side away from him.

“It should be me taking revenge on you for killing me, you asshole.” Despite his words, there was a levity and breathlessness to them that felt more like they were joking as old friends again.

“Isn’t that what this is? Interrupting a perfectly good slumber with this nonsense. One might think I miss you of all things!”

“Mm, Alastor misses nobody. And he didn’t wait several hours for me to come home some nights so he could eat dinner with me. He just wanted to see my face when he made me eat whatever dastardly spicy thing he cooked that day.”

“Well- It would be rude of you to not eat it after I went to all the trouble of making it! And a man should be prompt. I couldn’t make a gentleman of you quite yet.”

“You’re right. Just as it’s rude to bloody up my clothes, play with my antennae when you’re bored, or let’s not forget the day you decided to see if a universal remote worked on me.”

It was Alastor’s turn to laugh. Vox clicked his tongue, with an infinitely tender smile on his face watching his old friend step back in time with him. Or– was that how Alastor wished he felt? “I was awfully fond of the mute button! It was truly a shame you fixed that! But I would hate for anyone other than myself to have control over that delightful picture box of yours.”

“Well… nobody can control me anymore.” Vox muttered.

The sobering thought brought Alastor back down to reality. He turned his head into the sweater, closing his eyes. The feel of a cold hand brushing through his hair didn’t even help. So Alastor pressed his ear against Vox’s chest listening to the drone of the fan inside, keeping away the dreadful silence.

“I miss you...”

The words that had been lingering on his tongue for a frustratingly long time. Vox’s screen turned dark, leaving Alastor incapable of telling what expression he was making. Alastor wasn’t sure what Vox would say if he were truly here either. Things were far too broken between them now. They could never return to what they once were. Maybe there once was a chance for something. Something new, something different. 

Not anymore. The white noise brought darkness before Alastor’s eyes again as he fell back into nothingness.

“I missed you, Alastor.” Through a raw voice choking back the intense emotion Vox struggled through, the once gentle hold had become a vice that crushed his bones. Violent and possessive. The static on the screen tickled and pulled at his hair, dancing across his flesh still as dark and hidden Alastor could see the outlines of the wavering eyes.

Alastor fought the cage that held him, brushing his fingertips over the dark screen that illuminated underneath his touch. HIs fingers danced across the dead pixels beneath his cheeks. Each flaw a point of beauty, when Alastor had always been so enamored with his own perfection.

“Do you… know the significance of gifting a watch, Vox?” Alastor asked. The question was so sudden, it shook the tears collecting in Vox’s eyes looking at him quizzically. Alastor took it as his answer, reaching into his breast pocket to present the broken watch. “It’s an expression of treasuring one's time together, or a desire to spend more of it with the recipient of the gift.”

Vox pulled one hand free to trace his claws over the bullet hole still present. It was trash, buying a brand new one would be far cheaper than trying to fix it. If it could be fixed, watches were never in Vox’s wheelhouse. “I remember the day you asked me to buy you one. You know you could have always gotten one for me.”

“It’s not the same.” Alastor turned up his nose, possessively clutching his fingers around his watch. As if this phantom could steal it from him.

“Because I had to be the one who wanted to spend time with you?” A cheeky smile surfaced on the screen, a confidence that always caught him off guard because he’d have nothing to say to that. Vox hit the nail right on the head. As a dream figment should. Vox pushed the watch back, guiding it back into the pocket in his coat for safe keeping. “You can be such a Princess sometimes Al. If I had known, I would have given you so much of my time you would get sick of me.”

A playful grin flashed on the screen. One that Alastor found himself unconsciously matching. The touch of glass pressed against Alastor’s forehead, a touch that once was familiar, tugging and dancing upon all his senses as he willingly allowed himself to be pulled down onto the couch.

“Then stay with me, until my dream ends.”

The weight Alastor felt wrapping around his waist, settling between his legs as he became intertwined by limbs and fingers felt familiar. Something he could sink into without fear.

“You don’t deserve it, but alright. I could afford to spoil you, since you were honest with me.” A gentle hum answered Vox, with the Radio Demon already making himself comfortable. It had been a long, long time since Alastor had felt such a gentle touch. Many times he’d said he was better off as it was a reminder of the part of him still human.

Yet– No matter how many times Alastor tried: He couldn’t. Not when it could make all the noise and static in his head disappear. At least for a little while.

…

..

.

When Alastor woke, a pale dawn light trickled in from the window. A gunshot woke him, a stark reminder of where exactly Alastor had decided to spend his night. Well, nobody would be stupid enough to try something on him even if he was asleep. His clothes were still sticky with blood, and quite uncomfortable now that the high of the kill was gone. Alastor looked around the break room, looking for some sign that the dream from the night before was… something more. But as he suspected, there was nothing there.

Chapter Text

An interlude taking us long back stretched back all the way to the 1930's…

"We're going to STARVE to death at this rate, Vince! Can't you take on even a few more hours? I have been eating literal peanut butter sandwiches to get by!" Another paycheck, another round of disappointment as his mother found reasons to pinch a nickel there, a dime there until there was nothing left to pinch.. The same as it was every week, pocketing it all and letting him have only a pittance as 'allowance'. Vince could only purse his lips wanting to instantly refuse her.

Truthfully he could. He'd be burning himself out from both ends, too exhausted already fulfilling whatever tasks his mother needed help with when he returned. It may even get him out of it, but he didn't want to. He didn't want to, because he spied those large bottles of alcohol hidden behind the nightstand that his mother would drink straight from the mouth of. Never was without her smokes that she insisted she couldn't live without, had nice furniture even when their neighbors were being creative with crates and sacks in a period when everyone was struggling to get by.

Work 40 hours or 50, and he kept a dime.

It was the Great Depression. As soon as Vincent hit the cusp of adulthood, money grew tight leaving him stuck with his parents. Daily fight, screaming matches, the angry trod of his father and so many walls with the plaster beaten in, misery all around him. In the people inside of him. Festering inside his own heart like a disease, until anything like Hope as stubborn as it could be had died into a flickering spark. Pictures lined the walls, hiding the marks of his father's anger breaking against the wall. The sound of that heavy fist was a relief, when moments later he’d feel the knuckles digging into the soft flesh of his cheek until it ground against bone.

"I can't. My boss has to give everyone else hours too and there's only so much to go around." Vincent lied. Lailah sighed dramatically, throwing her hands up and smacking her thighs, pacing around the house. Her feet tread over a rug, probably a cheap imitation of something that was meant to portray class for the hopeful middle-class family.

"So ask to take over shifts from people who call in sick or need a day off! Tell your boss you'll volunteer for anyone who needs it! You aren't even TRYING Vince. Do you want us to starve? Is that it?" Lailah came back around, grabbing hold of her son's shoulders. "Samuel's paychecks from the army are the ONLY reason we're managing to stay afloat right now. If it wasn't for your terrible eyesight we would have one less mouth to feed and your father and I wouldn't be living paycheck to paycheck."

Vincent brushed his hand over his face, specifically over the place where he should have glasses to fix that problem with his short-sightedness. He wanted to say, 'My terrible eyesight which I still need glasses for'. Though he already knew what his mother would say. They couldn't afford it. Like everything else in their life. In the end, that single dime from every paycheck was for everything from clothes, healthcare, and anything non-essential for himself. A single tiny coin in his palm in exchange for the slip of paper he toiled two weeks for. The tiny coin never felt quite so heavy.

"You always need my help around the house, you need me here anyway." Vincent retorted, with his mother's lip going flat.

"No, I wouldn't. I could hire a maid, and it'd still be cheaper."

Vincent pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting back the urge to raise his voice or grow angry. Lailah would only return it two fold. "No, it wouldn't. Even living maids require a salary and you need to feed them. They wouldn't be bringing in income like I do."

"No, you don't."

"...Yes you do."

"No. You don't." Lailah retorted louder this time. Vincent held out an open palm, silenced and flabbergasted by how confident she was in her answer. His own hands fell against his thighs speaking louder himself. A trap and it was so easy to fall into the cycle when you were just a young man wanting independence.

"Ma, people don't work for free! That maid still needs a salary to pay for her clothes, her family, and any luxuries she wants. Just say that you want to be rid of me, or that you want me to die in the war."

"No, you don't!" Lailah insisted once again. "Staying in your home and feeding them IS their salary. Especially in this economy! Why are you afraid to go to war for our country anyway? Your father, grandfather, your great grandfather! They all served you know, you're the only one who's a coward! It's not like The Great War anymore, the death rates are much lower now. You're smart, you'd know how to out-think and outmaneuver them. But you can't shoot if you can't read something from ten feet away. You need glasses."

"I'd LOVE some glasses!"

"Well, we can't afford it. Not unless you take some more hours! Now take off your hat and help me in the kitchen. I want to clean the pantry but I need you to hold the flashlight"  Lailah ended the conversation on her turn, spinning on her heels and started for the kitchen. Vincent watched her go, shoulders slumped as exhaustion took hold of him. Not the exhaustion of working a factory job, it was the exhaustion of dealing with his mother, his life, EVERYTHING. Hand clapped over his hat, he threw it onto the hat rack and followed his mother into the kitchen.

Potatoes, flour bags, pickling jars, one by one were put into his hands to put aside. The problem was, he had done the fatal flaw of revealing the human inside him, resenting the fact he wasn't even given a chance to sit for five minutes after getting through the door. Anger that wrinkled his brow. Not even a frown, his lips a dull limp flat line as his usual mode was to disassociate.

"Why are you making that face?" Lailah asked as she handed him several cans. They piled into his hands, heavier due to his arms feeling like noodles after so long at an assembly line doing the same movements. Vincent was certain he looked quite the sourpuss. He felt miserable with every reason in his mind. The cherry topper on the shit cake was his mother asking why he was making that face. It ended up bleeding into his monotone voice.

"Because I feel like shit."

A scoff answered him, with another can shoved into his arms. The blonde curly head of hair smacked him in the face as she spun back around, grabbing Mason jars of her hobbyist pickling project. A way to save money and still have a variety of food to eat according to her! Never mind the pickling juice that he'd have to pick up, the hours spent labeling it, cutting them all, and he was assistant number one. Fuck he hated those jars. He hated the sour taste of pickles and everything else they touched more! If he never had to see another in his life he'd be glad for it.

"You're so dramatic. You have a home, a bed to sleep in, clothes to wear, and you aren't starving like thousands of people are right now. You're so ungrateful! When I was your age I was stalked and wasn't even allowed to have any friends. I didn't even have a boyfriend until it was almost too late, when I met your father. A year later I would have been too old. At least you're a man so you don't have an expiration date. Do the oh so terrible thing of helping your poor mother out while things are rough for everyone." Lailah puffed air out from between her lips, pushing up her bangs in the process. It was a story he'd heard a hundred times before, always brought up whenever he dared to be unhappy. Like clockwork, he put on that false smile of his, even while the rest of him felt like death inside.

"I haven't even been able to see Dorothy in a month because of all these hours I've been picking up, nor do I have any friends." Vincent reminded her. "I have so many hours at the factory I don't have time for anything but work, sleep, and house chores."

"Welcome to life as an adult, it sucks. This is all you have to look forward to for the rest of your life. Dorothy will be there for you when you move out."

"With what money?" Vincent asked, the ten cents he got a paycheck was hardly enough. Lailah threw her hands up washing her hands of that business. With the bottom shelves cleaned out, she rifled around the cabinets grabbing an old rag and a bottle of water to wipe down the dust within the cabinet. Vincent was handed a flashlight.

"Here, shine that so I can see." 

The moment her back turned, he went back to his sour face shining light on a dusty pantry to clean the corners they couldn't see anyway. 

"When are you going to marry Dorothy?" Lailah asked.

Vincent nearly dropped the flashlight, slapping his hand underneath the torch to lift it back into place. "When this recession is over. I can't afford to move out, much less pay for a wedding."

"So you're just dating her to waste her time?"

"What? No. I just can't afford it right now ma. Ceremonies cost money, and so does moving, and getting everything for a new place." The sound of the front door opened and closed with a hard slam. It wasn't the quieter and more subdued closing a door like a normal human being so Vincent reasoned that was his father who was home. The heavy sigh and racial slurs under his breath were what cinched it.

"LAILAH! Is dinner ready yet?!"

Peter Rhodes was a man who prided himself as the ideal American. White as a bone, with ancestors going back several generations. Old money even! But his reckless investments had squandered their wealth making them as poor as any other average citizen. Hands rough and callused from the blue-collar labor he did, a real man's job as he put it. If anything, he adjusted to the middle class life with ease.

He didn't even bother removing the dirty boots he wore, tracking dirt over the carpet and the kitchen floor. As he came into the kitchen his hand smacked the doorframe hard trying to gain both his son's and his wife's attention. In half a second he had already guessed what the two were getting into before his arrival. A vein popped in his head, with his fist smacked against the doorframe even harder.

“CUNT! Where the FUCK is dinner?”

"I had to clean the pantry! And then Vincent was complaining that he has to help pay for the food and the room he lives in. Saying it's OUR fault he can't get married." Lailah screamed back, matching her husbands energy. She brushed past her son who was open-mouthed in shock.

Lailah pushed down the trash can pedal to open the top and threw in the filthy paper towels collected in her hand. Peter scoffed, ignoring Vincent as he moved over to grab Lailah by the wrist, yanking her over and lifting her hand high above her head.

"It is your fault. All you do all day is sit around and listen to the radio all day. You can't even get dinner started for the men who WORK in this damn house. Have you ever made anything for Vincent to eat this past week?"

Lailah screamed, attempting to yank her fist back but she was no match for the intensity of his fingers digging into her bones. "PETER! You're hurting me! Why would I cook anything for Vincent?! He won't eat anything I cook! I'm not making two different meals every day."

Peter looked at Vincent, silently bidding him for an explanation. The violent energy in the room rooted Vincent to the spot, his mind reeling as chaos exploded in the house again. Every instinct screamed to make himself as quiet and unnoticeable as possible.Lailah did a fantastic job of putting all the attention on herself. 

An explanation. An explanation or he would be next. "It's the peppers, pa. Whenever she cooks with peppers I always start coughing and can't breathe. Pretty sure I’m allergic to them, but Ma thinks I'm faking it because I don't want to eat them. She just puts them in almost everything."

"No more peppers. They're banned from this household. If you can't learn how to make meals without them for one meal out of the day, you can’t have them at all. Now make something to eat, I'm starving." Peter released Lailah's wrist with such force she yelped when her hand smacked against her thigh. Peter then stalked over to the kitchen drawer, rifling through the contents until he found what was looking for. A pair of heavy metal pliers.

Vincent backed up until his back hit the wall as he watched the approach of his father casting a growing shadow above him. A clock hung overhead, the pendulum coming close to smacking him against the head.

"So, Vince. You’re not happy with us anymore? You're more than welcome to leave, maybe you'll actually make something of yourself finally. Such a USELESS son, dreaming of radio dramas and movies like a woman. Then you're asked to work for once in your damn life and bitch about it to your mother! Run off to fucking Hollywood then, why don't you? Get on a bus and leave, starve, I don't care. But if I ever hear ONE peep out of your mouth that it's unfair here, I'll tear your teeth out myself, got it?" The pliers snapped shut with a metallic twang, pressing against his lips so hard they grated across his teeth and dug into his gums.

"Yes sir." Vincent quickly answered, swallowing thickly.

"Good." Satisfied with the answer, the pliers were pulled back.With a disturbing calm, Peter made a return trip back to the drawer. On his way back Peter threw his fist against the wall, breaking through inches away from Lailah's head where she idled watching him. Lailah screamed, falling back until her rear hit the cabinets. Her hands squeezed at the edge of the counter, as her heart raced. Peter rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath about his overreactive wife. 

The only sound in the house for a couple minutes was the sound of Peter's boots squeaking against the tile, stomping through the house, and then the final slam of the door so hard it reverberated throughout the house. Death was in that glare Lailah shot him, with the heavy blade in her hand smacking hard against the wooden cutting board. She said not a word, all Vincent knew was... he wasn't even hungry anymore.

"Such a selfish child. You'll make Dorothy miserable too at this rate. Letting your father do that to your mother like that! Robbing her of the only thing she likes to eat anymore because you can't handle a little spice." With a raise and fall of her shoulders, she moved over to the fridge and began to pull out ingredients for the dinner she planned for tonight. Vincent was still trying to find his feet again after that scare with the pliers, putting on that numb expressionless face waiting for his mother to take out her frustration on him.

"If it inconveniences you, you’ll take everything she loves too won’t you? You certainly don’t care about doing it to your mother! Who raised and loved you despite being such an ungrateful little...monster. I bet you don't even remember her birthday, what is it, Vincent?"

To be honest, he had no idea. Dates and small details like that always escaped him. That was what a calendar was for. He always struggled with memories, maintaining anything. It was the only way he could cope. The silence stretched, giving Lailah the answer she was hoping for. Blood beaded on his bottom lip with the intensity Vincent bit down.

"That's what I thought. Nobody exists outside your world. I hope you're happy, and you better eat every single bite of what I make you. Now get out of here, before you ruin something else."

Lailah's legs trembled, using the counter as a support as she walked around using it as a support. She only got a few steps before she fell onto her rear, smacking her head against the cabinets. She yelped loudly, smacking the cabinets hard with her fist. "DAMN IT!" A scream, loud and deliberate calling for the attention of the men in the house. Her gaze immediately turned to Vincent, with his father's voice screaming back muffled in the back of the house.

"Shut the fuck up Lailah, or I'll give you a reason to scream."

Vincent raced to his mother's side, hands raised in the air lost as to what to do in the situation. Lailah smacked her palms flat against the tile floor, the cold glare in her eyes asked him if he was going to do anything or continue standing there, being stupid. With a bitter sigh, she reached her hand out and grabbed hold of his, yanking him down to pull herself up to her feet.

"I have to fucking do everything in this house. My back is killing me. DAMN IT." Her hand planted against her smaller back, hissing and gasping for air every few steps, muttering under her breath. Most of the words were intelligible, but Vincent found himself rooted in the spot, wondering what exactly his mother wanted from that moment. "I said get OUT!" Her raised voice only awakened the other slumbering titan in the house, with a dull slam of a fist sounding against the wall thrice. A warning, If any more noise, Peter will come in person. It was like letting the parent finally count down to three, you never wanted to find out what happened.

Vincent’s feet couldn't carry him out of the kitchen fast enough, climbing up the stairs to the attic with its only privacy a thick curtain at the top of the stairs. Dangerous, but space was a luxury and he wasn't about to give up the room he had coveted from his brother for so many years for a door. To Vincent it was only something for his father to yank off the hinges if it was locked or smack open without knocking. 

At long last Vincent could feel the relief of finally taking off his shoe, collapsing onto the bed. Head buried in the sheets, he listened to the sound of the knife against the chopping board below, and the voices ringing through the house speaking of the clear discord of the family. So entangled and fucked up, only the dreams of Hollywood could take him away from there. Dreaming of lives so unlike his own, of happy people and happy lives able to overcome tribulations. Ones that could be solved.

All Vincent wanted… was to escape. Even if it meant leaving his Mother there with his Father. Even if it meant leaving behind Dorothy. There was nothing, absolutely nothing he treasured if it meant he could escape. All he lacked… was courage.

Chapter Text

Back to the past, 5 years later.

That day I learned there were two things you feared

One you managed to keep your secret

The other was the fear you could betray me

I would have taken any risk

If I could save you from feeling as alone as I

There was always this all-pervading sense of tranquility in the kitchen when the two fell into a routine. The bubbling of the pot, the smell of spices in the air, and Fred Astaire on the radio kept the silence at bay with the rhythmic clack of the knife on the cutting board following Vox's attempt at mincing. A skill that was still clumsy, not near as uniform as when Alastor did it, or even as fast. Years had naturally built a synergy between one another that even eliminated the need for idle chatter while they focused on their tasks. Sometimes that silence would be broken when something would surface in their mind, an event about their day or a question to ask.

"By the way Al, I started hiring more women as writers like Mimzy suggested. Been doing this crime drama about a detective and a serial killer that's... also a romance I guess? The romance I'm sure wouldn't interest you but these women are insanely creative with the way they kill these guys or mutilate their bodies. I think you'd enjoy it." Vox caught the sight of the back of Alastor's head, busy with a whisk in his hands. The motion of his hand ceased only long enough to ponder a thought.

"You know how I feel about your serialized picture shows. But... I suppose I could give this one a shot, I'm confident something written by women will be much better than anything else produced on your station."

"...I write most of it."

Alastor flicked an ear, turning his head to meet Vox's eyes. "Do you...? Well, then that's different. You'll have to show me which ones you are most proud of, I am rather curious to see what holds up as your best."

Vox opened his mouth, ready with another retort that it was written by a man, but he was too excited about sharing his favorite project with him to risk that. A brilliant cyan smile full of teeth blessed his screen again, pacified. "Well, that's an easy one! I've mentioned Wrong Way Home haven't I?"

"In passing. That one about a young boy isn't it?"

"That's the one! It's about a young boy who ends up adopting a weird dog that turns out to be a horrifying monster in disguise! It takes the form of a dog to secretly observe the humans around them as they've been outcast from its hivemind, taking the audience on a journey of it’s growing independence.. It takes a human form years down the line after he gets separated from the boy and becomes known around town as that weird creepy hermit guy. It's GOT everything! Bloody scenes where the monster eats people, an exploration of identity, suspense, found family, and a man who is completely otherly trying to fit among a bunch of humans." Vox spoke passionately, neglecting the vegetables on the board and even discarding the knife to wildly gesticulate.

Alastor gave the whisk over to a shadowy servant to take over for him, turning his body to listen to his protégé speak. Such passion, and love of the arts were some of the qualities that kept Alastor by his side.

Beyond his expectations, he was genuinely interested. The form of a dog didn't thrill him but the sound of this protagonist who was completely alien among the people around them? He wanted to watch it. How did Vox see this individual? Put him on a pedestal? Villainize him? Or was the take more nuanced? Did this monster have to sanitize and completely cut all its edges to live with humans? In the silence that followed, Vox's smile gentled to a closed-lip line curling at the ends with obvious fondness. A gentle look that... mystified Alastor most days.

Only a fool would feel that tenderly toward him. But Vox had no issues being the fool Alastor was learning.

"Hey... how many years have we been friends now Al?" The question ruined the gentle moment, causing the static from his signal to leap and turn discordant. Friendship? Mimzy was his friend, she was his most stalwart ally since the days he walked under the sun. Rosie he felt hesitant to lend that title as she would too one day become a threat that would take his soul or kill him if it became beneficial and an opportunity arose. Vox was also a threat-- no matter HOW entertaining he was. Or how much he enjoyed his company.

"Friends...?" Alastor asked, hiding his smile. A pointless gesture when that mask was permanently etched on his face. "That would imply that you are my equal, Vox. You're my protégé, nothing more. It's been several years now, hasn't it? Why do you ask?"

Vox's screen immediately grew dim. The smile faded, a weakness that Vox couldn't nip in the bud no matter how many times he'd argue that it was a weakness. The strength in his shoulders left, it was as if all the vim and vigor had been snuffed from the man. If they had traded places he would have torn out his mouth somehow for daring to say it. But since Vox WAS only alive by his grace it was hard for him to understand why.

"A protégé. That's it? Is... cooking, watching shows, drinking, and staying over at my house all just normal mentor-protégé things?" It wasn't anger, but a question meant to weaken the foundation of his decree.

"Naturally. You are still my only protégé Vox, and getting to know you on a personal level helps me understand the best way to grow your potential. You haven't rejected my assistance in cooking or learning to play the guitar now have you? You've benefitted and it's only because I keep such a close eye on you."

Vox threw up his hands. Alastor felt for certain now he'd explode and throw a tantrum for being underestimated. He was waiting for it, the sign of a man who couldn't control himself. But Vox had only pressed his hands against the glass with a sigh. The pain of betrayal, something that ran deep reflected in those digital eyes. The years made that screen increasingly expressive and complex, making Vox more human before his eyes even as his heart became more ruthless.

"Right. This is all just a deal. We're both getting something out of this. As long as I'm useful, I get to live." Vox's hands fell by his thighs, turning around to leave the kitchen.

"I wouldn't kill you Vox if you stopped being useful. That's only if you become a threat, and you are far from that."

Sparks flew from between Vox's antennae. His fist opened and closed, shaking with anger. Instead of saying anything, he left the room leaving Alastor alone in the kitchen. The radio demon looked at the half-chopped vegetables, clicking his tongue with annoyance. Seems he was doing everything for tonight's dinner. Such ingratitude. With a sigh of resignation, he picked up right where his boxy-headed companion left off. Making dinner alone was a comfortable experience for Alastor, only in recent years had he allowed another to intrude on his domain. Vox's presence didn't speed things up, not by much.

The company was nice, however.

When Alastor strained his ears, he could hear Vox shifting in his bedroom, even when he was angry he always shut the door so quietly. Most liked to make a point of slamming it as hard as possible, but it was during these times that Vox felt powerful emotions he hid himself away and retreated within himself. A pattern that he only started to recognize because their lives had become so intertwined. The radio which was usually kept at a low volume was raised with a quick turn of the dial, all to banish the silence away. The color of the roux darkened before his eyes, until it became a rich golden color. 

After adding in the vegetables he pulled out a skillet and the sausage from the fridge. With a separate chopping board, Alastor began the motion of chopping them up into small pieces, with the motions only stopping short when the lights flickered. The fluctuation of the house continued for only a quarter of a second then darkness with a click. Then there was silence. The radio shut off, only the sound of the flames was the only source in the entire house. Darkness filled his eyes, only a tiny stove fire to cut through the oppressing veil. Alastor could only see so far as his nose thanks to the eerie glow of his eyes and smile.

Fear gripped the deer's heart. A cold sweat came over his neck as he spun around smacking his hand against a counter. He paid little mind to the dull thud of pain, searching the ceiling above for any chance the light would turn back on. Two steps forward and his knees banged into the island. The gray outlines of a thousand little creatures wriggling in the dark spilled from the impact. Beetles, millipedes, ants, spiders, anything with more than four legs with their numerous eyes white and shining even in the darkness. Without light to guide his steps, Alastor rushed out of the kitchen, smacking his shoulder into the archway. The impact had left hundreds clinging to his arm, and the sensation of thousands of legs crawling on his skin made him want to hurl. Alastor desperately shook his arm to shake them off, his teeth clenched so hard they threatened to crack. A scream would only offer a place for their filthy bodies to wriggle into.

"Al? Are you Ok?" Vox’s door burst open, with the heavy sound of his footfalls approaching. Alastor bent his ears back, glaring in the direction of the other expecting another violent shade meant to torment him-- until he saw the light. The brilliant blue cut through the darkness and in its path the insects that once crawled all over his clothes, in his hair, searched for an open wound to squirm beneath... disappeared. The sound of rushing blood was drowned out by the heavy breathing that Alastor wasn't even aware he was doing. 

"What was all that noise? Did you trip or something? Are you hurt?" Vox asked

While in the thrall of the demons that still haunted Alastor in the dark places of his mind, even his greatest friend would look like a monster straight from the bowels of the earth. The brilliant blue light turned an angry red, the voice distorted and twisted beyond recognition. An extended hand, a lifeline in truth, was closer to an appendage wanting to drag him further into Hell where the skittering insects could feast upon him. Burrow into his flesh, gnaw on his bones, eat his tongue, dance in his head. Growing louder and louder and LOUDER. Thousands and thousands of the wailing dead he'd damned himself ready to feast on his flesh from the inside out, as he once did to them.

Alastor struck before he thought. A large tentacle lashed out, sending Vox flying back and crashing into the couch nearby.. 

"You’re a demon given clay and form, stealing the blood and bone of the true son I should have had..." Words, more like an echo in his head, once spoken by his father resurfaced in Alastor’s mind. The man that used to be Vox melted into something. A creature, a demon, a monster missing a face.

This demon did not halt its egress. Despite the unnatural bend of its body as it rose, mechanical and utterly inhuman it stood again. The head popped and swerved, sparks jumped from its shoulder while it shoved its arm back into place. The demon could not be destroyed so easily, it never could. Alastor could kill it. Again and again and again and again but it would always return. There was no choice though. A second tentacle wrapped around the ankle of the demon, yanking it so that his body fell backward. 

Unfortunately the insects never bothered the demon, there was nothing there to feast on. They only plagued him, for he had such soft flesh to burrow into. Something that could rot, grow cold, and become a garden for mushrooms and roses.

The staff material in Alastor’s hands was crawling with so many insects, and even if he tried to shake them and scatter them across the floorboards they continued their single-minded purpose. To devour him. But he would destroy this shade first.

As hard as he could manage, he drove the microphone down, piercing the unnatural heart of the man beneath! Or so he thought. A wire had tugged it at the last second sending it off course digging into the floorboard beneath. The brilliant blue light fizzled and changed into multicolored blocks for a second. It was so abrupt, so strange, and oddly familiar that it pushed away the madness that had gripped Alastor in his nightmare.

The familiar face of his friend, the one who had been by his side for so many years. Vox.

"Al... By Satan, I'll help you finish dinner if it means that much to you! I didn't think it would upset you THAT much!" Vox's worried expression was so cartoonish and inhuman. Wide red eyes with their technicolor pupils, large brows that bent and curved into a wearied little face. It would not be out of place for Alastor to inflict a greater plan on somebody who displeased him but he never... harmed Vox. While Alastor believed in a Heavenly Father, the only God he would ever allow in his world was himself. So he had no idea who to thank that Vox defended himself in the end.

An awkward silence passed, and the sound of a million little legs skittering across the floor and over his clothes disappeared. Vox's light chased away the darkness. When Alastor fell to his knees he could hear the many artificial noises his body produced to keep him running in his day-to-day life. The hum of electricity, the whirring of a fan, and the faint breath that mimicked life. A claw rose, reaching out for him, and then faltered at the last second. Vox never touched Alastor. He might get close to him but that final barrier was never crossed. It hung there, finger bent waiting for him to finally reach out and take his hand.

"Tell me a story." Alastor broke the silence, and when he didn't take that hand Vox got the memo and dropped his hand with a smack against the hardwood floor. A puff of air escaped through Vox's lips, voice cracking when he spoke.

"A story? That odd request after you just assaulted me. Not going to tell me why?"

Silence.

"Right. A story, alright. Let’s see.” Vox pulled his claw over to cover his eyes, pondering Alastor’s abrupt request. Alastor wanted nothing more than for Vox to chase away the silence, and keep the darkness at bay.

“Once upon a time, there was a man who was all alone. He went through life feeling much like something only wearing a human's skin. He could use their emotions against them, and ate hearts like so many cherries. Despite this, there were people who loved him.Sadly he could never return their affections.” 

“He saved his skin until the last moment when it amounted to nothing, dying a miserable death. But not as miserable as he deserved. In Hell, karma finally caught up to him when he met Hell's finest demon. The Radio Demon." Vox motioned toward Alastor, whose ears bent forward. Alastor assisted Vox, pulling him off the ground to sit down next to him on the floor with their backs against the couch.

As long as Vox kept speaking-- as long as that light was still there. Then the nightmares wouldn't return.

"How unlucky indeed. I trust there's more to the story than his terrible second and final death." Alastor added.

Vox laughed, pushing himself up a little straighter. His claw ended up brushing against Alastor's hand in the dark, snatched away only as the cold feeling of his hand settled in. It was an odd feeling, but not one he hated, Alastor decided. "The Radio Demon made him his favorite plaything. Gave him a bunch of terrible tasks to prove he was worth, some that he even thought would be too much for him. It was all a game for him, but he made one critical mistake..."

A pause for dramatic effect. One that ran for a moment too long made Alastor nudge his shoulder against Vox's to illuminate the mystery. He wanted to avoid silence.

"This man thrived to prove to everyone what he was worth. So many years told how little he amounted to, or talentless he was. Lurking in the shadow of another, with love dangled on a carrot if he could ever break free from it. Now... he's still just The Radio Demon's pet. In the end, he didn't prove anything even to the one who challenged him and pushed him to his limits. It truly is Hell, isn't it?" A hypothetical question. Vox didn't make eye contact, turning that peaceful light away. 

"You are given far too much independence and freedom to be a pet, my dear. You are safest beneath my wings, are you in such a hurry to rush out? If you should fall, you know I won't be there to catch you. Weren’t you enjoying yourself Vox." Alastor leaned his back against the couch, craning his head to look up at the ceiling. Even there he could see the faint glow of Vox's light below. It was a strange thing how comforting his presence had become over the years when it always exhausted Alastor to spend so much time with anyone else.

That and… the deal with HER was still on. The day Vox left his side, was the day he was devoured.

"I am... I've never been happier to be honest. I've always wanted to make movies you know, but I never got to. When I was alive that was. So I took the second best thing, a job as a news anchor because they really liked my face. Very handsome, generic, and the face of the average american man they said! Soo many war bond ads the word started to look fake.” A bitter memory that showed with the uncomfortable twist of his lips. There was a lot more centered around this war, enough for Alastor to lean in and ask questions.

“Another war? So soon?” Alastor laughed. “After the first one and the great depression taking so many lives! What a blood thirsty era, is it really any wonder we turned out the way we did?” A hand hid the genuine smile on Alastor’s face, chewing on the side of his hand. The events of the world above stopped mattering to him years ago, but death and war? 

“World War II, America got pulled into it after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. It wasn’t as bloody as The Great War, those trenches were soaked in so much blood weren’t they?”

Alastor craned his head back, putting his hands onto his lap. He could remember those days, something they thought would never touch their homes. Then one by one sons went missing, husbands, brothers. A fantasy became a horror, families fell apart, and he had spent so many years wishing the same war would take his father.The brief years he spent in their trenches were Heaven; and in the end he was thankful he got to taste the man’s blood himself.

“Not enough.”

Vox’s light shone on Alastor’s face, in any other circumstance he would find it too brilliant and unwanted. In that quiet night, unseen by the rest of creation Alastor leaned into it. His head fell upon the other man’s shoulder, growing silent. The man beside him went stiff, that great fear of his whenever anyone touched his body, easing when Alastor never turned away from his cold body. Or the sharp edges that littered every point.

“I won’t–” Vox began, somber. A claw hovered near Alastor’s shoulder, a desire to reach out and reaffirm their connection. A human connection, something they both yearned for and denied; making their beds as monsters. One Vox had in his truly best interest let go letting his hand fall back to his thigh. “I won’t make the same mistake I did back then. Even if all of Hell turns against you Alastor, I’ll stay by your side.”

A dangerous proclamation of trust. One he couldn’t return, even if Vox so much as swore his soul to him. Warily he waited, watching for disappointment or for the pin to drop when Alastor didn’t return that sentiment. What he did not expect was the gentle look on his digital face. Soft round eyes, a tiny frown, and the edge of his frame coming so close to his hair his bangs almost touched it. That was as far Vox would dare.

“You were talking about your desire to escape from my wings only a little while ago Vox, which is it truly?” Deflection, he’d much rather talk about anything else.

“I don’t want to be under your wings, Alastor. I want to walk alongside you. I don’t have your talent, I couldn’t rise to your status even half as fast but I’m getting there. In a decade or two, just watch! You won’t even be able to recognize me anymore!”

Foreboding words that caused a pit to settle in the middle of Alastor’s stomach. Already the monochrome face had changed to a brilliant sapphire. The once pixelated face was smoother and more expressive, voice clearer than ever before. Vox was growing more fond of him, and every step forward Alastor was reminded more clearly of the expiration date.

Vox pushed up from the couch during the brief silence, offering his hand to help Alastor off the floor. Never intentionally touching Alastor first. He might offer his hand or shoulder, but there was always that fear that Alastor might shrink or pull away from his cold and unnatural body. The reality was that Alastor never showed much reaction at all. When Alastor was drunk he even got affectionate and cuddly with him. Those were nights he wouldn't trade for anything.

"Let's see if we can salvage dinner. Think you'll be ok cooking in the dark?"

Ears perked, with a startling realization that his gumbo had been left to sit on the pot! Alastor didn't take a hand, he took the whole arm dragging Vox into the kitchen acting like his flashlight. A rap on his head came with the bid for him to turn on the screen brightness, an act Vox did on command with a blank expression. Underneath the light, it gave the pot and the food a blue sheen to it that almost made it appear like a meal out of a fantasy movie.

Alastor turned off the fire, setting the pot aside on another burner. Business concluded he tugged on Vox’s sleeve refusing to go anywhere without him. The soft thick sweater was a soothing kind of familiar to him now. As much as Alastor had felt tempted to put him in a suit, this turtleneck really suited him.

“So– can I ask you why you freaked out earlier or is that something you want me to pretend never happened?”

Brought to the couch, Alastor stood there pinching Vox’s sleeve mulling over his question. It should have been an instant denial, sharing any weakness with another was preposterous. Nobody knew about that place, and nobody could ever know about her.

“You don’t have to.” Vox’s voice was so soft even when it especially did not need to be at this moment. “I’ll even make a deal with you, to tell nobody if that’s what it takes.”

“A deal? And what would the terms be exactly?”

“You tell me why you attacked me earlier and I am forever bound to never utter a word about it. That simple.” Vox mimed a motion of a zipper over his mouth and tossed it away. A cute motion. Alastor released the sleeve he pinched, extending his hand. Vox reached for it but at the final moment Alastor lowered his hand, robbing Vox of the deal. He spun on his heel and fell onto the couch kicking up his feet. The cane in his free hand came to rest against his knee and he patted the cushion beside him inviting Vox to join him.

“That won’t be necessary. An overlord never reveals anything that can be used against him, even to those closest to him Vox. A lesson you clearly needed to learn, revealing that little piece of yourself earlier.” A cheeky smile bloomed on Alastor’s feature feeling like he had one upped his little protege. Vox did not join him on the couch though, his smile fell with his large bug eyes reduced to half their size.

“I told you because I trust you Al. I still do, even if you don’t feel the same way.”

The ruby gaze rolled nearly into the back of his head, an arm draped over the back of the couch. “You truly believe I won’t betray you Vox?”

“Yes.” Vox answered so easily it startled him. He could hear HER laughter ringing in his ears, taunting him now. It was Alastor's turn to adjust his collar, wrinkling his nose as he found the conversation becoming… uncomfortable.

“Rather foolish don’t you think? There’s nothing to stop me and nothing you can do even if you do.”

Vox finally joined him on the couch, having to be reserved today with his usual leg spread with Alastor taking up room nearly in the middle of the couch. Elbows propped on his elbows, he made a nest with his claws as he chewed on his bottom lip.

“That’s the nature of trust, Alastor. Unless you give somebody the power to hurt you, it’s not really trust. If you need the threat of repercussions or a way to get back at them even worse, it’s just a relationship built on paranoia.”

Like an arrow had hit him in the heart, Alastor found himself liking this conversation less and less. A hand brushed over his mouth, trying to hide the twisting of his grin that would refuse to break. Not to Vox, not to anyone would he ever break his mask.

“Exceptional. I don’t think there is anyone quite stupid enough to put their trust in me except you. They’ll only laugh at you, should the worst ever happen.” Anger was bubbling within Alastor’s breast, a fury he had no idea where to direct. Only that he was angry at Vox! For the egregious sin of giving him his trust when he never asked for it! Their deal, their relationship was purely transactional and he never wanted anything more!

In comparison, the smile on Vox’s face felt like it could mirror a still lake with how peaceful it looked. “That’s fine. It seems to me that you’ve never been able to trust anyone in your life and I’m willing to be the idiot who gives it to you. I’m not asking you to trust me in return, I’ll take any and all deals you need for my silence.”

Golden teeth snapped, with a growing desire to rip the cords right from Vox’s neck for his words. He did not NEED his permission for anything! “Good, because I’m not so stupid nor will I thank you for it.” Trusting a monster! How preposterous. One may as well be a rabbit and stick their neck in a wolf’s jaw and say they’ll trust it! A man like himself would feel NOTHING when he bit down, other than schadenfreude toward the stupid STUPID little creature.

Alastor’s fury didn’t go unnoticed by Vox. The radio signal had become so wild and erratic now it was like listening to a chaotic symphony filled with a hundred different colors all at once. Alastor was conflicted in a way he’d never seen before. More than ever he felt sure, this was something Alastor needed even if he didn’t know it.

“I wasn’t expecting it, I only wanted you to know. I tell you more about myself than anyone else. Invite you into my home, and hunt down dangerous Overlords making myself a target because I feel full confidence you’ll slaughter them before they can do any real harm to me. All I’ve done is put it into words.” The lights flickered back on in that moment, at first blinding and hurting Alastor’s eyes. Vox pressed on, his electronic body not prone to such weaknesses. “If you’re so angry though… well I won’t say anything.”

“I am not angry.” Alastor lied, even when the tone of his words bit. He was furious, and he hated that he was. He pushed himself off the couch striding into the kitchen without so much as a by your leave. When Vox tried to follow him, Alastor pushed down on his shoulder and kept him locked in place. “You stay here and watch your frivolous television. I’m going to finish making dinner and you will eat every last bite.”

“As you command, Alastor. I will lick that bowl clean.”

Even his acquiescence grated. How annoying. This was why Alastor didn’t need friends, trust, or starry eyed apprentices offering their hearts on an altar. At least he ate well. “See that you do. Or I’m tearing your tongue out of your skull.”

Chapter Text

Today won’t last forever

Tomorrow will pass too

Everyday escapes through my fingers like sand

Each grain a new treasure I wished I could cling to

These days won’t last forever

If we danced in the Heavens the hourglass would stop

But this is hell, and you are far too good to be true

“Vox! I was starting to think you’d never leave that damn office! And before Alastor too?! It’s a Christmas Miracle!” Cyril’s sunny voice greeted Vox at the door. “Where is Alastor anyway? Is he coming later?”

“Why is it that you expect us to arrive together? Or for me to know that?” Vox questioned, keeping the good nature in his voice with a soft chuckle.

“Because you two always come together. Heck, whenever I talk about you two with Rosie it’s always as a pair. On account of the two of ya being attached to the hip and all.” With a laugh, Cyril rubbed the back of his neck. Vox couldn’t exactly call him… wrong. These bi-weekly get-togethers with Rosie usually had the two arriving as a pair. Not like they planned it either. But hearing him say it like that almost made them feel like a couple. Which-- was impossible! They were two men. Two good friends, that was all.

“What can I say? We’re the duo who will one day rule Hell. Alastor is the brains, but I am the face!” Vox jabbed his thumb against his chest with a boastful smile.

“Haha right you are! And what a handsome screen it is. Come in! Rosie is finishing up the sweets. Oh, and don’t worry! We have vegan-friendly options for you today.” Cyril’s hand smacked hard against Vox’s back as he welcomed the man inside. Immediate regret rang through his numb bones, nursing the now tender tendon with his other hand.

“One day you’ll learn your hand will lose every time.”

“I hope! Fear I’m a terminal idiot! I saw that new film by your studio. Ahh… what’s it called? Erm, with the...” Cyril snapped his fingers struggling to recall. There were far too many programs and movies to speak of that Vox needed at least a little hint to go on. He waited for Cyril’s hamster wheel to kick into gear. “The priest! That’s the one.”

“Oh, Unholy. Yeah, one of my best writers was in charge of the screenplay for that one. Her stuff always does well. What about it?”

“I loved it! Makes me think about what exactly brought us all here. I mean, I know why. Pfft- had a little snacky wacky that I shouldn’t have.” The man winked. “But, more so the people who weren’t sure if they made the cut or not. Wonder how hard that must be. People like Alastor knew from the get-go and were prepared. What about you Vox? Did you know you were going to hell?”

“I… had a pretty good idea I was by the time I died, yeah. I don’t think I ever had a chance of getting into Heaven. I was...born unfit.” Vox motioned in a circular motion with his hand. The drugs, gay sex, and living the high life as a cult leader was fantastic when he was alive! But certainly not a model example for an angel.

“Born unfit? What? You burst out of your mother’s belly or something?” Cyril joked as they stepped outside. The smell of roses was thick this time of year with Rosie’s collection abundant. They must have had a lot of sneaky looky-loos to feast on. The coffee was already poured, cakes, and the usual meaty appetizers that the others long since stopped trying to make Vox eat.

“Vox! Welcome, dear! Where’s Alastor?” Rosie’s sunny smile had a natural effect of bringing a smile to Vox’s screen.

“As I was telling Cyril, he’s back at the office. He’ll be running a little late.” Vox thumbed behind him, leaning over the table to take a good look at the spread. Cheesecakes today! With strawberries too, what a treat!

Rosie pushed her cheek into the palm of her hand. “Oh, how unusual. You’re usually the one running late. What a pleasant surprise. Please, have a seat!”

Vox pulled out the closest chair, taking the first seat. Cyril crept up behind his wife, pulling her into a hug from behind to lay a smooch on her cheek. The two eased into a playful rocking with Rosie giggling from whatever he whispered into her ear while hands rested on her arm. The sight of the two always brought a smile to Vox’s face, they were so sweet he swore it’d give him diabetes! If his body actually produced insulin.

He couldn’t even be mad. It gave him extra time to steal a few extra sweet treats before they disappeared. While neither he or Alastor had much of a sweet tooth, Rosie knew how to keep the sweetness balanced or subtle enough they ended up indulging. Vox intended to make Alastor pay for his tardiness by taking even the lemon tarts he was so fond of. The sourness and sweetness tasted like victory and angry deer noises later! Revenge for Alastor stealing the leftovers from the pot roast the other night.

Cyril released Rosie, pulling up the lady's chair for her first. Once she was seated he pushed her in and pulled the next chair out when he paused in the middle of his action, tilting his head back to look at the sky. “Uh--- what’s… that?”

A large circular white disc spun in the middle of hell. Golden light poured forth that looked even holy, an ominous sign for a realm of demons. The energy pulsed, cumulus clouds converged into a swirling ring. Vox felt something unsettling in his gut, causing him to stand and push back his chair. “Whatever it is, it can’t be good. Take Rosie and find someplace to hide. If you can, barricade yourself in the cellar. Block it with furniture, anything you have.  I’ll come get you guys once it passes. If you don’t hear anything after a full day and it’s been quiet.. well, imagine the worst.”

Cyril laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Vox, aren’t you being a little… uh paranoid? Maybe it’s some fancy new… event. Like some exceptionally good sinners are being let into heaven for good behavior! Or the rapture’s… happening?” Doubt permeated his voice.

“And none of us here have behavior that is befitting Heaven. Do you want to risk Rosie’s safety?”

Rosie pursed her lips, gripping her skirts anxiously. Nothing was happening yet, but that didn’t mean it would stay that way. With a nod, Rosie got up and grabbed Cyril by the arm. “We’ll lock up. You should come with us, Vox.”

“...I can’t. Alastor’s inside, he might not know about the weird light in the sky. I’ll be fine, promise. Gonna make sure Al’s O.K and we’ll lock ourselves up somewhere safe too.”

Rosie bit her bottom lip. Her hand clenched around Cyril’s arm. Debating on whether she could take that answer. One look at Cyril’s face with its gentle, calm, and supportive smile and she assented. “You two be safe.”

“Of course. See you soon Rosie.” Vox leapt over the fence, running as fast as his metallic legs could take him back to the office. As a walk, the way to Rosie’s and back was roughly twenty minutes. Not an insignificant amount of time, and something he could cut down to about ten minutes. Vox wasn’t sure who to pray to in this instance, so to whichever deity would answer he asked that he could beat whatever that ominous sign was.

“I should have brought the car today… damn it.” Despite all that work to buy the thing, it turned out to be faster to walk some places thanks to how crowded the city was at times. Joyrides had ceased to become enjoyable with how poor the road conditions had become in recent years. Lucifer had taken less and less interest in social programs that kept the place going. And only certain Overlords bothered to keep the roads nice. It didn't help that Alastor also insisted on walking everywhere when he could.

Luck wasn’t on Vox’s side. Several minutes out at the start of his run, fearsome creatures with masks and feathered wings streamed out from the portal. They rained down on the city bearing silver steel. They spread out, canvasing the sky and dropping to the earth. When Valkarye landed, screams rang out from the city. Minutes later, Vox encountered one himself. A woman now that he got a closer look with a large X over her eyes. The silver spear she carried was buried through the heart of a sinner, the red blood coating its steel. A few sinners tried to harm the monster. Magic, guns, steel, nothing seemed to hurt them. They were mowed down without the creature breaking a sweat.

The cross-like eyes settled on Vox, making the blood in his body freeze. He needed to get past it to get to Alastor, and every second he spent here was another second that he could be in danger. The Angel moved first, hovering off the ground as they glided over toward him at a speed that nearly proved fatal. The wind rushed back and the whistle of steel nearly impaled him. Thanks to Vox’s insane reaction speed did he manage to survive.

A coil from his back whipped out, attempting to shock the angel into incapacitation. Ineffective. The angel’s feet touched the concrete, and with a pirouette, he swung the spear for his midsection. A quick backstep saved him from all but a scratch that tore through his clothes like butter. He wrapped his coil around the weapon, twisting it to sprain their wrist, and flung the weapon into midair and one of the filthy alleyways. The angel glared at him and flew off to retrieve their weapon.

It seemed that they couldn’t do anything without their weapon. Good to know.

Vox was wary of turning his back, but the immortal and invulnerable angel was a fight he couldn’t win. He ran. To his luck, even though the angel had wings on their side the lure of easier prey was more attractive. His lungs, a mix of artificial material and flesh burned with the air he struggled to get into his system. A function he ended up switching off, if only to run faster. He couldn’t let himself be distracted by human functions right now.

The windows of the A&V building were shattered. The bodies of his employees scattered the streets, or what remained of them. Most had spear wounds, but there were those impaled by glass shards, beheaded, and others even gunned down in the middle.

Krrzzzt.

An irritated radio signal resonated, bringing instant relief to Vox. Alastor was Alive!

“Thank Lucifer, God, or whatever entity is answering my prayers...”

His brand-new black shoes were completely ruined by the blood and gore that painted the floor and walls everywhere inside. It wasn’t half as bad as the kind of gore and scattered limbs that would remain at a scene after Alastor and he went on a ‘hunt’. But when it was the faces of people you knew, souls that worked for you? It was a sight he knew would haunt him for nights to come. Not just for the bottom line that was hurt waiting for so many people to regenerate, but the trauma of death affected fresh faces more than veterans. And those too used to death were… not always sane.

A green light from the second floor and the increasing strength of the signal urged Vox to travel up the stairs. Long gaits had him climbing two steps at a time, reaching the top in record time. What he found was two angels flanking Alastor. Even outnumbered, he was in prime condition. A lithe and agile man, easily avoiding the dangerous point of two spears with his tentacles deflecting anything he couldn’t. The valkyries started to aim for the tentacles themselves, oozing dark blood and each jab made the signal more discordant. It hurt, but not enough to mar that prideful smile.

Alastor wasn’t uninjured either. There was a large wound in his stomach and another in his shoulder. Rather than feeling fear, he was ecstatic! The golden smile stretched so wide the tell-tale sign of those stitches flashed their eerie glow while he wrapped one tentacle around an angel and slammed it hard against the wall. He wasn’t trying to run, he was trying to destroy them. Or toy with them, sadistic bastard.

Vox came up behind the remaining Angel, wrapping his electrical coils around them to restrict their arms. He then grabbed the spear from their hands and flung it out the window. Before she was given a chance to protest he slammed her hard into the wall cracking the drywall. Dust scattered and filled the room, and the hiss of a pipe gone askew sprayed water everywhere.

“Vox! You’re supposed to be at Rosie’s! What the devil are you doing here?” Alastor called out, eyes pitch black and his pupils a burning red.

“I came to find you! Rosie and Cyril have already blockaded themselves.”

“Are you insulting me?! Do you honestly think these things have a shadow of a chance with me?” His pride was injured, teeth bared in anger. A real anger, and if his real enemy wasn’t getting back up for round two; Vox was sure he’d be the next one to face his wrath. Not that Vox would have chosen otherwise. Rosie was his friend, but Alastor was… his partner. Even if he didn’t feel the same way.

“They’re invincible Al! Nobody has a chance! But they can’t do anything without their weapon.” Vox called back. One angel turned their head, glaring at Vox. That little spill of information put him immediately on the priority kill list. Alastor too for possessing the information. They didn’t say a word as they changed track, making a beeline for the blue overlord. Vox was fortunate these angels didn’t seem properly trained or have a strategy beyond their invulnerability. Didn’t keep them from having the overwhelming advantage.

The spear came across in a glittering arc. Beautiful ribbons of silver whistled through the air as she pushed him back into a corner forcing him to lose ground. But Vox wasn’t alone. Alastor took advantage of her laser focus to grab her ankle while she was distracted. The angel reacted quickly, impaling the tentacle into the ground. Then she bent down, grabbed hold, and yanked hard. Alastor lurched forward, body toppling toward the concrete from the sudden jerk. Vox’s feet moved before he could think. When the fatal glint of metal hanging over his head like a guillotine stopped heart. Vox ended up eating the spear that Alastor used more like bait to impale his chest. Narrowly missing his beating artificial heart. Blue blood gushed from the wound, but Vox didn’t give up. His cyan claws clamped down hard on the weapon. HIs right eye swirled hypnotically as he forced her to make eye contact when she tried to retrieve it.

To Vox’s surprise… It worked! Her limbs fell like the soul had been sucked out of her. Back on his feet, Alastor looked between the two of them and glared at the spear stuck in Vox’s chest. Bastard. He wasn’t going to be thankful for him taking this blow for him, he picked his stupid battle. 

“I want you to sit in the bathroom and count to a million. Do not come out until you finish counting.” Vox ordered.

The angel complied with a hollow voice. “Yes, sir.”

Alastor’s head turned, waiting until the door closed behind her to put his hands on the spear, but Vox put hands on top of his. “Wait, don’t. I’ll start bleeding out if you pull it out here. Just break it if you can, and we’ll yank it out later.”

The radio demon squinted but took his advice. He was more used to making people bleed, not stopping it. He grabbed hold of the spear and then the other end with his tentacle and snapped it in half. Leaving enough room to give leverage later to remove it, but not enough to hinder his escape; preferably. 

“Let’s get you back home. You’ll need your tools right?” Alastor asked.

“I’ll be fine for a while as long as the spear’s still in. We need to hide somewhere they won’t think to look for us.” Vox argued.

Alastor’s ears pinned back, though the smile on his face never left. Since when did this uppity assistant make the decisions for them? Not that he could argue the logic. Yet, he couldn’t concede to give him the point. “We’ll be fine, now that we know your little hypnotism works, you can send them away with a look.”

“We’ll be making a target of ourselves in the open.”

Krrzzt. Hsschhsshhh….

The discordant noise of Alastor’s signal was a clamor against his antennae. Saying Alastor was angry would be an understatement. “You know… you’re right. I have nothing to worry about as long as you’re here. Right behind you Al.”

The harsh signal eased, followed by a tug at his lips to show Vox had made a good decision there! “Right! Off we go. I won’t suffer to stare at this ugly thing in your chest longer than I have to! Why, it’s almost as though the Angels are trying to put Cupid’s arrow in your heart by force.”

Vox had to force his smile there. It was… a little too late for that.

The streets were empty, disturbingly so. The only living souls were the angels disguised as demons tearing through the sky bearing bloody steel. Some carried trophies, others drew bloody arcs. Bodies littered the concrete, some still writhing begging for some form of mercy. Crossing the open streets felt like inviting eyes, Vox was nervous but it would be more dangerous to face Alastor’s temper. They would both draw attention and die that day.

Alastor was not the type to bow his head and scurry like a scared rabbit. Nor was the urgency hastening his steps. The only thing that consoled Vox was that Alastor showed some mercy for him, lending him his shoulder. The warmth of the other overlord’s body made his cold frame feel all much warmer. Now if only he wasn’t fearing for his death right now or… bleeding out of his chest. His body started to heat up, with warnings popping up warning of some systems in threat of shutting down. Mostly auxiliary functions, things he could go without.

It only took a couple of minutes for an angel to notice the two from the sky. She came slamming down into the concrete like a bullet, with chunks broken off from the impact. Alastor had to shove Vox away to break away fast enough before they were flattened into pancakes when she cracked the concrete beneath her. The mask was unique, but without taking a closer look they all looked the same. Silent horrifying monsters.

“How nice of you to drop in dear, unfortunately I do not have time to entertain you. Your dear sister has harmed my companion and he requires attending to. Maybe another time?” Alastor, unflappable as always, bowed his head announcing his departure. Vox muttered a curse under his breath, did Alastor refuse to believe he couldn’t do anything against an invincible enemy?

Vox had to give it to him though, it was like watching a dance as he stepped out of the way of the pointed spear while his jests never ceased. The years he spent dancing made his movements elegant and he didn’t break a sweat while the valkyrie herself panted and heaved with exertion.

“Oh! So close, you ARE bad at this dear. Are you out of breath perhaps?”

The mute exorcist never said a word. By the urgency of her movements and the once thoughtful swings of her spear became erratic. Like a wild animal trying to cut down an annoyance. Alastor threw both hands up, the cane handed on by the crook of his thumb. “Oh! Nasty nasty temper my dear! You’ll never hit the broad side of a barn like that! Do try again!” The last thrust was far too heavy-handed, nicking only his coat. Alastor stepped forward like he was on a Sunday stroll, tripping her. The ground beneath him opened up, revealing a maw of endless rows of teeth and tentacles all wrapping around the angel.

The spear was snatched from her hands before the mouth pulled it into its hungry gaping maw. Dumbfounded, and haunted, Vox’s cyan pupils danced between the maniacal grin on his partner’s face and the horror he SUMMONED. The mystery of where the souls he collected went had always been a mystery Vox wanted to unravel. This felt like a good hint where. The ground knit together seamlessly, the ominous green light fading from Alastor’s presence with not even a sweat on his brow. Only pure and utter satisfaction.

The coy look in his eyes said he wanted to prove a point. Alastor had no reason to fear even these invulnerable creatures. A laugh bubbled from Vox’s chest, then a fall of his shoulders. Alright, fine. Vox was right about to concede they had nothing to worry about when another streak of silver started to crash down from the sky.

Life moved in slow motion as Vox’s body lurched forward. The blood loss slowed his step, as the Angel came down behind him. Alastor’s body spun, turning to see the angel too little too late. A larger Angel with an A emblazoned on his herigaut swung an axe in a cross-section from shoulder to hip. 

“GET FUCKED BIIIIIITCH!”

The crass language almost didn’t reach Vox who felt like he was submerged underwater. As Alastor’s body fell across the concrete, a ringing in his ears drowned out the entire world. This angel was different. Larger. Male. With large golden wings and a screen that displayed a terrifying face. His finger pointed Vox’s way.

“The fuck you supposed to be? Your head a.. PFFT! God, you look so STUPID! A TV head, really? God, it must be EMBARRASSING to be you.” The angel cringed back, snickering like a child with a hand pressed over his mask. The reflected eyes turned into squints. “I almost feel bad for you, but don’t worry. You’ll join your butt buddy soon! And you won’t have to be... eugh, YOU.”

Large golden wings dragged across the concrete, lines of blood drawing on the pavement. Vox lowered his center of gravity, taking a step back with each of his approaching ones at an angle. The more he backed up, the further he could get the angel away from Alastor. He wouldn’t die that easily. He had to believe that, as the alternative only plunged him into despair.

“C’meeeere little TV bitch. All you’re doing is wasting my time. And I got bitches to fuck and beers to pound.”

God, did this man ever shut up? No, wait. He could use that. “You’re right. Couldn’t even begin to compare to a guy who fucking took out one of the biggest fish in hell in one hit! How come I’ve never seen you before?”

The angel paused, a smile reflecting on his screen. Flattery! His favorite. “Aha! I bet you HAVE bitch. I’m ADAM! That’s right, the first man.” Fist pressed against his chest, the axe clanged across the concrete. The large plush body supported thanks to the weight of the holy metal with ease. “Could say… I’m a big deal.”

Vox’s screen illuminated, arms held out in shock. “Wait, shit. Really?! THE Adam?! My mom told your stories all the time. That Lillith woman… screwed you over huh? But, it seems you did well for yourself. Power, a cool guitar, the looks, and that overwhelming charm. I’d ask if you were single but...” Vox threw finger guns. Hoping he wasn’t laying it on… too thick.

Adam’s screen glitched for a second, shocked. He spat a laugh, rubbing his knuckles against his chest. “Pfft- aha! That’s why you're in Hell loser, you’re a disgusting homosexual. I don’t do that shit. But, understandably, you would be attracted to me. Sorry man, this ride is for ladies only.” With a flourish of his hand, Adam motioned toward his crotch.

God, Vox HATED this guy.

“Well, can’t blame a guy for trying right? Especially since… y’know. It’s a dying request and all...” Vox faked a bitter smile.

Adam sucked through his teeth, giving Vox a look up and down. “Tell you what. Even if I liked men, WHICH I don’t. That TV shit is too pathetic, but… I’ll let you go today. I like you, but if I see you next year?” The boisterous man laughed. “You’re dead meat! Be sure to let everyone know yeah? That Adam will be back to WIPE the floor with your asses.”

He was almost home free. Vox’s irises flicked to Alastor who was stirring. He saw his fingers twitch, he needed Adam to leave NOW before he realized he was still moving. “Wait, really? That’s… damn. That's generous of you. Don’t worry, I’ll let them all know. Hah, I get to brag I got to meet THE first man, That’s insane.”

Adam grinned, pleased with all the praise. “You’re alright TV head. You’re smart! Not smart enough to keep yourself from going to Hell. But… smart for a loser. Peace.” With a kick, Adam lifted his axe and took to the air. It didn’t take long until his body hurled through the window of another building, blood spraying the glass where he broke in.

Vox waited until he disappeared and rushed to Alastor’s side. He’d found enough strength to lift his fead off the floor but he was haggard and bleeding.Sticky blood soon coated his hands. Death wasn’t permanent, but Vox was sure not going to let Alastor suffer one needlessly.

“Al… hold on. I’m going to carry you back alright?”

Alastor tried to glare at Vox, he didn’t need to be protected or cared for! Certainly not by his apprentice of all things! But when he coughed up blood, he swallowed his pride and hung his head. Alastor’s whole body ached as he felt those claws lift his body off the floor. The rod still sticking out of Vox’s chest sent a new rush of pain that wracked his whole body when Alastor’s body tapped it. It was dangerous, but for the sake of getting out of there, he shut off the auxiliary function for pain.

Fresh coolant oozed from the open wound every time it was pried to the side from the rocking body in Vox’s arms. With it his systems continued to rise in head, but he kept on ignoring it. Safety first. Alastor refused to make eye contact with Vox as he was held in a bridal style. If he could, this whole memory would be gone tomorrow. This whole day was a humbling of the worst kind. A realization he wasn’t… as invulnerable as he thought.

Using alleyways, shadows, and watching the skies in tandem, Vox carried Alastor home. There were no signs of intrusion. Vox was a little thankful for that. He hurried inside and took Alastor to the bedroom then immediately shut the curtains and closed the door. The deer stretched out, groaning with pain as he clutched at his still-bleeding wound. It was a shallow cut, and his magic had sealed most of it. But, he was still vulnerable. If another angel appeared, well… he was in no condition to fight back. The silence outside was deafening. Usually, there was always noise going on in hell. The only things that Vox could hear when he held his breath were advertisements from televisions left on and the hum of music from record players in distant buildings.

A crash sounded from the roof, causing Vox to jump. Footsteps from above thud from the roof, followed with a faint thump as they landed on the soil beside the house. All but one internal fan had been shut off so Vox could strain everything into listening to the footsteps outside. When footsteps faded, he didn’t relax yet. 

A creak of the front door sent a panic through his system. Fuck, he forgot to close the door!

Thmp. Thmp. Thmp. Thmp.

THUD

The bathroom door was slammed open. The sound nearly made his heart stop. Alastor bared his teeth, looking to Vox for some hope that he had a plan. Vox WISHED he had a plan right now. They were checking the place out, all he could hope to do was hypnotize them when they broke down the bedroom door. With some guessing and listening to their footsteps they wandered into the kitchen.. He could hear them opening cabinet doors, and scattering groceries everywhere. Great. As if Vox didn’t have enough on his plate to deal with without his kitchen being turned into a pigsty.

No stone left unturned.

Thmp. Thmp. Thmp.

The familiar footfalls became increasingly louder.

BAM

The guest room was broken into. Where Alastor would spend the night when he drank too much or decided to overstay his welcome. It didn’t stop there. They wandered inside, pulling out more drawers. Another loud thud as the bed was thrown over, and the closet door slammed open. The purpose was clear… these angels wanted no survivors.

Thmp. Thmp. Thmp.

A shadow cast from underneath the door. 

Vox shifted in front of the door,calming his nerves to prepare himself for the moment that would decide life and death.She wasn't expecting him to have an ace in the hole. As long as he kept them from Alastor; this would be his victory. The silence lasted for a span of only a couple seconds, but time itself stretched thin. The buzz of the currents of electricity inside him, the beat of his artificial heart, the irregular panting of Alastor on the bed. It sounded so loud it was like a siren, screaming for her to find them.

The floorboards creaked as the Valkyrie stepped forward, then shifted on her heel changing her mind. Whoever was standing in front of the door left, just like that. Vox didn’t relax his guard, straining his ears listening for several minutes for a sign of life before he relaxed. The tension left his body, and with it, his legs gave out. Vox was exhausted. Wherever Rosie and Cyril were, he prayed they were safe and sound.

Vox groped at the edge of the bed to act as his support as he pulled himself along. Alastor was still conscious, his hand hovering over the wound on his stomach concentrating on closing up the wound. His face was slick with sweat, crimson hair matted to his face, mouth was wide open as he gasped for air. Dread settled in the pit of Vox’s stomach. 

“Al...hold on. I’ll grab the first aid kit and stitch you up. Getting you to stop bleeding is the priority.”

Alastor snatched his wrist before he could leave, refusing to let the spell falter as he kept Vox locked to his side. He didn’t say anything, only clenched his wrist so tight he thought he might rip it off. It froze his feet into place. “Give me your blood.”

“Al… my blood is different from yours and other sinners. I could get you-”

“I need it for the spell. A demon’s blood is a demon’s blood. Now come here.” Alastor growled, yanking Vox forward. He fell forward, catching himself by putting his hands on the bed beside Alastor. A heat flushed across his face when he found himself staring down Alastor. Open mouthed and gasping for air, slick with sweat, and his cheeks flushing with so much heat. Vox cursed his perverted mind for thinking of the most inappropriate thing at this moment. He didn’t want to see Alastor this way. 

He was a man! His best friend. Not somebody to objectify.

Ignorant to Vox’s troubles, Alastor yanked one of the arms forward and bit down. Hard. It was only thanks to the grace of his pain receptors being turned off he didn’t pass out then and there. The sight of those gnashing golden teeth looked like it must have hurt a lot. Alastor’s teeth dug into Vox’s flesh, with the muscle of his tongue lapping at the blue blood that flowed beneath. When it started to come dry, he bit down harder. The continuous ebb of his coolant flowing into Alastor’s mouth made him feel light hearted and woozy, lurching forward as spots began to collect in his peripheral vision.

As his world grew faint, Vox surrendered and fell to his knees with his screen hitting the bed. The blood staining his screen didn’t even bother him, they were safe now and Alastor would survive.

Once Alastor finished, he unhinged his jaw and put the arm softly down on the bed away. He didn’t even wipe his lips, using his tongue to lap up any leftover blood as though the minty cold and completely toxic blood didn’t affect him. Alastor slid a hand over onto the back of the television, stroking the inorganic material. Vox couldn’t feel it, but he could hear the brush of his palm and a ticklish sensation when his fingers ran over his ports.

If it wasn’t for the uncomfortable piece of steel still embedded in Vox’s chest, he could fall asleep right there.

“Thank you, Vox.”

Vox could hardly believe his ears. When he tried to raise his head, Alastor put weight on his hand to keep him there. These were words he could only speak, while they weren’t looking face to face. It was the only way his pride could ever tolerate it.

“You’ve grown these past six years. More confident, stronger, and brimming with such potential the likes I’ve never seen before. And yet, you’re still the same wily man who charmed his way out of every situation since. I’m formally ending our contract.”

Vox tried to push his head up, his words muffled against the sheet to try and fight him But Alastor’s weight remained firm. The radio demon was the stronger one now that he had rejuvenated. 

“I don’t need you searching the streets for filth and you are more than capable of defending your territory on your own now. Why, you’ve already outgrown the need for me.” Vox’s claws gripped at the sleeves, his muffled noises growing louder, something sounding vaguely like ‘Al!’

“I spoke in haste that night. If there is ever a man I could call a friend in Hell, it would be you. ”

The weight pressing on his head eased at last. When he could finally lift it, Vox saw Alastor smiling at him with rare tenderness, Vox stared so he could etch it into his mind. The corner of Vox’s eyes burned as tears threatened to collect in them.

Alastor’s ears bounced in shock, followed by a warm laugh. “There’s no need to look at me like that! You hardly look like an Overlord like that.”

Vox scoffed, miming the actions of wiping his digital tears away. “You’re different Al. Nobody can look scary and in charge next to you. If you wanted to devour me and take my territory, well… now’s your perfect chance I suppose.”

Alastor cocked his head to the side. “You’re quite right! This whole business with those strange creatures outside has likely incapacitated many of my souls. Maybe I’ll take whatever remains of yours to rebuild the ashes.”

“Damn… knew I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It was a good run, pal.” Alastor tucked his hand back to his side. His gaze turned to the weapon still lodged in Vox’s chest. “Well, shall we take this unpleasant piece of metal out now?”

Vox’s shoulders fell with a sigh. “Yeah, may well get it over with. Gonna need you to be ready to apply pressure and stop the bleeding.”

“I’ll do you one better! You’ve been so generous to donate so much of your blood I’ll help mend the wound while I’m at it.” One wouldn’t believe he had been injured only moments earlier with the pep in his step as he picked Vox off the ground, supporting him with his shoulder. Alastor was still covered in blood from the axe earlier, but he moved as though that had happened to him weeks ago instead of less than an hour.

“If it works on me…”

“Don’t be so doubtful! No sinner’s body is the same. It’s colder and harder than the average sinner, which means it’s even heartier than most. One of my favorite features about you honestly” And it was Alastor’s genuine thoughts. Everything about him was so perfect, deadly, and terrifying. He was everything a demon should be!

The walk over to the bathroom felt exhausting. After running all the way here, Vox’s whole body felt like lead, with an overwhelming desire to just lay down and sleep for a week. But a little heaviness in his heart lifted at that moment. 

“You say that because you don’t have to cuddle it.”

“Pfft-” Alastor rolled his eyes. If there was anyone he could tolerate to cuddle with, it would be Vox. Rosie touching him was fine as long as the clothes remained, he liked her. But full body contact for extended periods would make him want to tear even her arm off. “The Radio Demon does not cuddle. I’m certain you can find a nice gal who would love to.”

Only, he didn’t want a nice gal to cuddle with. The only person Vox wanted to cuddle had straight up confessed he didn’t want to. But Vox already knew that. After he was seated on the toilet, Alastor opened up the bottom drawer where the first aid kit lay. Over the years he’d become as familiar with this place as though it were his own. It may as well be, in all but deed. And he could own it, if he truly wanted. He removed a large gauze pad, some tape, and disinfectant from the kid.

“Now, I must confess. I’ve never tried to… undo somebody's wound before. Do you need something to bite down on chum before we begin?” Alastor wondered, already putting his hand on the broken half of the spear.

“I’ve turned off my pain receptors anyway as I said earlier and… to be honest I don’t know either. But I’ll regenerate anyway, just do the opposite of muscle memory and take the stabby object out of me. Should take off my sweater while we’re at it too. Things ruined anyway...”

That was a surprising nugget of information. 

“Fascinating! The wonders of your body never cease to amaze me. Well, normally I’d say it’s uncouth to undress in front of another gent but I suppose it cannot be avoided here.” It wouldn’t be the first time he’s seen another man’s body in any case. Plenty of vulgar men and women stood on the streets plying their bodies; bare for everyone to see. Or men wearing nothing but jackets!

But he’d never seen Vox’s. Odd that he was more curious about his than any others. Alastor decided to not dwell on it.

After Vox shed his jacket, he tore through his clothes with ease thanks to his claws. It wasn’t half as exciting as when he tore up that man straight through his belly, but it was an exciting reminder of what his companion was capable of. They should do something like they did that evening at Lookout Pointe again. He still looked back on that evening fondly.

Immediately cyan blue LED stripes across his ribs caught Alastor’s attention. His body was a dark blue with a lighter colored belly, and his sweater hid how fit he was. Stripes of blue almost like gills lined his body undulating with light dimming and flicking back to life in a hypnotic pattern. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen, with Vox appearing more inhuman than ever before. He was breathtaking. Not in the way that he wanted to lay with him like some lascivious mongrel would. This man was like a piece of art.

Alastor was thankful he always wore that damned turtleneck sweater. If anyone else saw what it hid beneath they might try to yank him away! Vox was his partner, and he’d tear apart anyone who even thought to steal him. Though-- he had already encouraged his friend that a good lady might find him. Hm…

Well, he’d cross the bridge when he came to it. A woman might know how to appreciate him unlike some idiot man.

Alastor grabbed the haft of the spear again and set his hand on top of Vox’s shoulder for leverage. Vox had gone completely silent at this point, staring at him like he expected him to say something. Whatever he expected him to say, he didn’t have anything! Commenting on a man’s physique was… well, they didn’t do that!

Vox’s skin was even colder to the touch, firm beneath Alastor’s fingers when he touched it directly. Vox’s shoulders tensed and in shame, immediately turning his screen away to avoid looking at him. Alastor couldn’t even hear Vox breathing anymore. Poor lad must be nervous about him taking the spear out! Even if he couldn’t feel the pain, no doubt it was an odd sensation. “I’m going to pull it out on three. Brace yourself.”

A mute nod answered him. Strange, usually Vox had some witty comment to dispel the awkward air. Did he expect him to break his word and push it through after all? Nonsense! He had no intention of betraying him! Well, unless he fell in love with him. SHE couldn’t be denied, the chain on his neck would make him powerless to refuse and that kind of power was… far too attractive for him.

“Three.”

“Two.”

“One!”

With a yank, Alastor pulled loose the spear. It clanged against wires and metal one the way out. More coolant spilled over both their bodies. It was not near as delightful as putting a spear IN somebody but the amount of blood coating them both had Alastor’s eyes taking on the shape of dials, and his antler’s branching into more knots with sadistic excitement. The digital display of that screen fading into multicolored noise, the mechanical WHINES, it was all so NEW.

Forget that earlier thought. I’ll not even let a woman have my dear toy. If anyone destroys him, it’ll be me .

Alastor swiftly covered up the wound with gauze, applying pressure with both palms to stop the bleeding. The pad started to fill and soak with blood. So Alastor applied more pressure, brows knit as he willed the magic into both his palms to seal the wound shut. The once bright luminous lights winding through his body like a deadly web flickered on and off. The largest source of light from Vox’s monitor grew dim, and in that instant, a chill crept up Alastor’s spine.

He’d seen Vox in sleep mode many times. The screen would grow dark but it was never silent. At least a single fan would keep running. It was in his chest, near his heart. Always pumping to keep him alive. Alastor bent his ears forward, listening for that sound. Vox breathed erratically, chest rising and falling as the body beneath him started to heat up beneath him.

The heat-- was unpleasant. It felt like maggots crawling in his flesh. He hated it. The freezing chill of a corpse was far preferable to the warmth of a living body. But Alastor didn’t pull back even when his every nerve was screaming for him to do so.

When he was sure the bleeding had stopped, Alastor grabbed the roll of gauze from the box and wound it around his chest to hold the pad into place. When it felt firm and secure he cut and taped it down. Vox’s screen was pitch black, with only a few lights fading in and out anymore. He pressed his ear against his chest, listening for the fan.

Wrrrrrrrrrr

He was alive. Unconscious but alive. Alastor’s shoulders slumped in relief until he felt a presence linger behind him. In the reflection of a mirror, a woman stood behind him with jet black hair. It defied gravity, floating like so many black tendrils. A large hat with a checkered pattern, and pale skin. What stood out the most… was that eerie crescent smile almost like a mockery to him. When Alastor turned around, nobody was there.

“Well, isn’t this sweet? The boy risked his life to save you. It’s taking you a while to make this one ripe.” SHE spoke.

“You may have been mistaken. Maybe the lad has had a physical attraction but we are nothing but a pair of chums and nothing more.”

“You didn’t see how he was blushing when you were staring at his body.”

Krrzzt. Alastor’s signal becomes discordant. 

“Now you are seeing things. Or trying to rile me, poor form you know.”

SHE laughed. Her arms draped around Alastor’s neck, her body pressed against his back with far too much familiarity. Hot breath tickled his ears and all at once the feeling of maggots crawling around in his body returned. Genuine terror seized his chest. The smile on his face stretched into stitches, all to hide the genuine fear roiling in his gut. “Oh… you are filthy today Alastor. You better wash up soon. You… don’t want to go back in there do you?”

Darkness filled his eyes, and so much dust, filth, garbage, and the hot stench of the humid summer sun flashed behind his eyes. Muffled screaming, pounding, banging against the door. Only he was there, back in that cramped little closet. The smell of waste cloying his breath, maggots, spiders, and other creepy crawlies crawling over his bare and raw feet. “Alastor, do not call me a liar. I’m your greatest ally you know. He was blushing. A little push and he’ll fall for you. I want you to feed him to me!”

Damn it. Alastor didn’t know anything about romance or love! There were a hundred more suitable pawns than him! He was violent, he knew how to murder, deceive, and manipulate. He didn’t know how to charm. 

“Why are you so interested in him? If you want me to feed you some idiot in love with me, I can find you a dozen in Cannibal Town right now.”

SHE giggled again, toying with one of his ears. Pinched the tip, smoothed down the fur on the end. All he could do was freeze and hope for it to end. Reacting always made it worse. “Because you like him too. If you betrayed any of those ladies, it would surprise nobody. But if you betrayed your dear little picture box? Who… won’t you feed to me? It’ll be the LAST piece of the puzzle you know… to throw away what you hate most about yourself.”

The woman’s filthy hand ran along his jaw, tracing his throat against the high collar. One finger dipped beneath the fabric, and he too forgot how to breathe in that moment. He’d learned his lesson to not argue this time. All he could do was close his eyes and pretend he was anywhere but there at that moment. “Keep up your darling hunts little Doe. You almost died today. If those Angels return, you’ll need the power to protect yourself. The two of you only got by with the skin of your teeth today. Next time…?”

The warmth of her body left, and with it, the chill that followed was a relief. Alastor wanted nothing more than to shower right now and rub his skin raw with a loofah until his skin was red and bleeding. But not today. Vox was still inactive on the toilet, and he wasn’t going to leave him there. With the aid of his shadowy servants they picked up the body; heavier and awkward to move since his limbs had locked into place. Rather than falling limply like a flesh and blood body would.

Alastor decided to leave him on the guest bed. Well, Vox called it the guest bed but it was really Alastor’s bed. Nobody else ever slept here, and Alastor ended up spending at least a night or two a week sleeping over for one reason or another. A few of his things in the room left their mark. A record player with sleeves of vinyl Vox had gotten him over the years. A poster that Vox had made special for him one day advertising his radio broadcast. A cleaned deer’s skull was mounted over the dresser mirror. The room was even painted a burgundy color as if the intended patron had been decided from the beginning.

Alastor attempted to move his limbs to relax in a position more natural for the bed, but it was like trying to force something that locked into place. He was more likely to break something than the intended function so he kept him there. He looked quite funny laying in the bed like he was sitting on a toilet, if he wasn’t so opposed to a camera he’d love to take one of Vox now.

Alastor checked one last time, listening for that familiar sound of a fan running. The white noise was like a lullaby. It drowned out the silence, and if it weren’t so uncomfortable to lay like this he could fall asleep. But that was crossing a line, more than ever Alastor had to maintain distance. “Good night, Vox.” He bid goodnight, shutting the door behind him.

Chapter Text

Once I thought you invincible

A nation unto yourself who had no need of anyone

It made me happy to feel worthy to stand by your side

But I wish I could have seen the impossible weight on your shoulders instead

If only so that I could lift you back up on the days that were too heavy for you

When Vox woke up, time shifted. One moment he was in the bathroom with Alastor getting ready to take out the spear, the next he was in his own bed bandaged. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed but he could feel an odd pressure against his chest where the spear once was. His claw brushed against it, confirming that he’d gotten first aid. Alastor’s signal was clear, coming from inside the house. From the low fluctuations, Vox could also tell he was awake. Whenever he was asleep it was always a low drone.

After kicking on his pain receptors, Vox bent over feeling his whole world spin behind his eyes. Throbbing pulsing pain coursed through his whole body, snatching his breath away. The worst of it was the fire he felt in his chest. As tempted as he was to shut it off, Vox fought the urge to rely too heavily on the crutch. The pain kept him grounded and made him feel human. And if he lets his pain tolerance become too low, he might end up shutting it off permanently.And then where would he be?

A glass of water waited for him by the bedside with a wet stain around the glass. Vox snatched it and took several needy pulls until it came empty, and his throat still felt so dry.. The empty glass clattered back onto the nightstand while he fought his whole body's desire to lay back down in bed. He had things he wanted to ask Alastor. 

The result of losing so much blood meant Vox couldn’t even put weight on his feet before he fell back onto the bed, gasping for air with exhaustion. Not only that, but his whole body was hot and feverish. The strange biology of his body was always a mystery to him, but he was NOT meant to run this hot. Errors were popping up all over warning him about overheating, and the vents on his back were hissing as they expelled hot air.

The door opened, with a familiar bob of red hair poking its head inside. “Ah, good! You’re awake! I thought you might be  feeling peckish and thought you might have an appetite for something warm for once” Alastor strolled inside, looking as good as new. He even had brand-new clothes on.

“How long have I been out? I feel like I was just in the bathroom a few minutes ago.”

“It’s been a little over a day now. It’s currently a quarter past three. How do you feel? Or are you still not feeling pain?”

The wince of pain Vox displayed when he sat back up again to make eye contact with Alastor told him better than words. The radio demon tutted as he strolled over to stand over the recuperating patient.

“Vox, Vox, Vox. My silly little picture box.”

Krrzzt.

Alastor was annoyed. The mask-like smile and his tone were as sunny as always. Vox tightened his fists, bracing himself to be scolded. Alastor spun his cane, pressing the top against the bottom of his screen to force him to look up at him. Light filtered around his silhouette, casting a great shadow of his face illuminated by the glow of his smile and his eyes.

“Would you mind explaining to me why you left Rosie’s side to find me?”

Vox made eye contact, he wasn’t afraid of Alastor. He genuinely believed he made the right decision at that moment. “I couldn’t let my friend face whatever was coming alone.”

“Rosie and Cyril aren’t your friends?”

“They are. But you’re--- You’re my partner. My closest friend, my mentor. Those two are important to me, but not in the same way you are.” It was much more honest than what usually entered their conversations, save for the times they got drunk. It was something Alastor implicitly understood, a fact he took for granted even. To hear him utter it in the broad daylight where nothing could hide rattled him. Masks and mysteries were their livelihoods. Alastor struggled with his words for a moment, deciding to be gentler than he would be otherwise.

“Don’t forget, Vox. Without me, you would not be half the overlord you are now. It’s because of my presence to scare away the bigger fish that has allowed you to grow so fat. I do not need you to protect me. I do not need anyone.” Alastor’s ears bristled, teeth baring. “So, do not forget that. Do not do something so foolish again.”

Kzzzt.

Alastor’s signal was wavering. That wasn’t anger, he was hurting. Vox’s shoulders slumped, whatever was going on in his head right now he couldn’t see. All he could do was work off the information he could glean. Why would he be hurt when he was the one with the barbed words?

“You’re not wrong. I’ve never been able to amount to much on my own. I didn’t find you because I wanted to protect you. I just didn’t want you to be alone. I can’t-- handle the pressure or the silence when I’m on my own.” Vox paused to take a heavy sigh, his voice so fragile it could shatter like glass. “I’ll break… but if I know there’s at least one person there with me I feel like I could handle the world on my shoulders. Even if you get angry with me afterward, I don’t think I can stop either. I want you to trust me. I don’t--” Want you to be alone.

Alastor twisted his hand upon the head of the mic, the frequency of his signal so discordant that it was audible to the naked ear. The memory of HER arms around his throat, the promise to put this man on a silver platter for her. Vox was offering up himself as an offering unwittingly with a smile on his face. As if he could have any choice but to let the little rabbit show its neck in surrender?!

“Then, you don’t regret your decision. No matter what?” Alastor lofted a brow, leaning close enough their faces could almost touch. Scrutinizing Vox’s screen for any sign of deception. Vox leaned away, unable to meet his eyes. But Alastor didn’t let him look away, he tapped the screen and forced him to make eye contact.

“No. I specifically acted in the way I felt I would have the least regrets.”

“Cyril is dead...”

Vox forced a laugh, that was… well unfortunate. He’ll miss the guy until he pulls himself together but there was no need for Alastor to be so solemn when he said it. “I see… but Rosie’s OK?”

“Depends on your definition of O.K. There’s nothing left of Cyril. His body disappeared and he hasn’t come back. Nobody the angels slaughtered have revived. Their bodies are gone.”

The news hit Vox like a truck. A wave of dizziness made his whole world spin. So the death they feared yesterday was genuine? Did that mean he and Alastor were right on its door? Vox clapped his hand over his mouth, fighting back the urge to vomit.

“But-- I was just talking to him a few hours ago. He was telling me about a movie he saw on my channel. And teasing me. Kissing Rosie and… he’s-- gone?” It didn’t feel real. He was only there that morning! At least that is how it felt to Vox.

Gone.

If he had decided to stay with Rosie and Cyril, would things have come out differently? Or would Vox be the dead one today? Or worse… Alastor? The thought chilled him to the bone, to the very soul. How could he dare show his face to Rosie now?!

“Vox...” Alastor touched his shoulder, snapping him out before his spiral could go too far. The familiar smile greeted him, comforting at this moment. A constant he could cling to. “You picked the path you said you’d least regret. Stick to it. Remember what you managed to protect.”

“Weren’t you just saying that you didn’t need me to protect you?”

“Mm, I do not. But… if you were not there yesterday?” Alastor paused, his signal once more becoming discordant. This took an awful lot out of him to say. His ears pinned back, needing to bite back the overwhelming pride that wanted to lash out with barbed words. Rather than the sincerity he wanted to share for once. “Well, you saved me from more than a minor inconvenience. My friend.”

On a scale between Alastor’s and Cyril’s life, he hated to say this to Rosie but it wasn’t even a ghost of a chance. But the rush of relief hit Vox so hard tears brimmed in his eyes. His breathing hitched as he clenched his teeth tight. Trying to fight back the overwhelming need to cry at that moment. Tears weren’t something you shared in the company, and they never made a sound. “Sorry. I’m just-- it’s a lot. Hearing you say that and about Cyril’s death.”

For Alastor, it was a bizarre thing. For him, he had only felt a little sorry for Rosie. He felt far more relieved he was still around. Many Overlords were closer to him, able to understand emotions and how to manipulate those with them. Alastor didn’t feel them unless he wanted to. Vox… was normal. He could pretend to be whoever he wanted on a dime. Adopt five different personas depending on who was in the room. Yet, there was a real man who wanted to weep over the death of his friend buried somewhere beneath it all.

Alastor wasn’t sure why he did it. But he ended up wiping those tears away with his own hands after Vox struggled with his sleeve to do the job. The pad of his thumb brushed over his screen with care. Unlike the rest of him, when he touched his face it had a mild warmth from the light it gave off. A gentle heat more soothing than anything, when normally the heat of flesh always made his skin crawl. Vox’s tears immediately stopped, with bug-like eyes staring at Alastor instead, holding his breath. If anything, he’d guess he was scared by the way his eyes wavered.

“Quite a fatal mistake you’ve made there, Vox. An overlord never shows his tears, especially to another Overlord. Or any weakness at all. But… you can trust me. Cry if you must, but don’t let another ever see your tears.” He wanted to see more of it. This strange face of Vox that none had been privy to. Rosie and Cyril had seen that beautiful genuine smile of his, seen his true wit and charm, bore witness to all his best sides. But nobody ever got to see this weakness, this vulnerability.

All while Alastor lied straight to his face. Oh poor sacrificial lamb.

Vox blinked rapidly in succession, but when he got permission it was almost as if a dam had been broken. Like he’d been waiting for somebody to give him the right this whole time. Tears fell without ceasing.Once the dam broke there was no going back. Sheer embarrassment had Vox hiding his screen in the nest of his palms.. Alastor wanted to pry them away, hating to be denied at the last second. The harder you try to force somebody to open up the harder they’ll clamp down, but how he hated to be robbed of anything. It would take a delicate touch and patience to see it all. It could even be the breakthrough he needed to finally take his heart and serve it to Her on a silver platter.

So this is a good thing, in the end. He keeps some piece of him guarded.

When Vox had run empty, he fell back asleep. Worn out by the emotional journey he’d no doubt taken, it was a wonder for him to watch while none of it really connected to Alastor. What was it like to be a monster who could still understand the human heart? As far as he could tell, it made him only miserable instead of happy like himself. A flawed being, who belonged to neither world and was unfortunate to be snatched up by a curious demon delighting in a new toy.

Vox was laid out on the bed with the most relaxed Alastor had ever seen. The screen went dark, leaving him to stare back into the familiar reflection of the one meant to devour him: One day. A strange pressure lingered in Alastor’s chest even after his face went dark. HER words returned to his mind.

Just… a little more time. Until I bore of him.

Alastor was far more fond of this Picture Box than he realized. Hell was… a lot more fun with him around. The day he left, he’d notice it. But Alastor was also used to being alone. He worked better that way. Anyone who dared to get too close was only putting themselves at risk. To be known was the most terrifying thing of all.

The Radio Demon lingered for a few minutes longer, listening to the sound of the singular fan whirring in Vox’s chest. The faint warmth on his screen died until it became as cold as the rest of him. When Alastor was certain Vox was completely asleep he rolled onto his side, pushing his head through the small gap between Vox’s arms. Vox’s arms were far too hard to use as a pillow, so he pulled over the sheets to act as a makeshift pillow for his head, adding the cushion necessary.

Forehead against Vox’s chest, he bent his ears forward to pick up the sound of that fan within his chest. He wasn’t sure why or what possessed him to do it, only that he was curious what it might be like to cuddle with another without that crawling feeling possessing him. He could never find the ability to swallow his pride to ask Vox while he was awake, so in this moment when he was fast asleep he indulged his curiosity. Alastor decided… he liked it. Only twenty minutes, that was what he told himself. Alastor had completely underestimated the peace that would send him into a peaceful rest he’d not known in years.

Free from HER. From the memories of his father, the menacing things that haunted him in the dark and silence. Those things could not exist as long as Vox was there.

An overcast sky greeted Cyril’s funeral the next day. Vox spent the day digging the grave in the backyard where they had enjoyed so many garden parties. A place full of memories for the four of them, more significant than even Vox or Alastor were aware of. That was the impression Vox got, whenever he spied Rosie with her vacant stare. A Handkerchief in her hand, dressed in black with a veil mourning her departed husband. Just as insanely beautiful as the day he met her, even in her grief. Vox wondered vaguely if it was fucked up to notice that while he was digging the grave for her husband. A silent apology was given to the man wiped from existence without a trace, a man that Vox considered his friend.

Vox would miss him.

Alastor tasked some of his shadow minions to assist Vox, preferring to keep himself clean. Vox wanted to hold the shovel and do the work personally, as an atonement for the choice he made that day. He didn’t kill Cyril, but he would still pay for the indirect blood on his hands because the man had been his friend too. It also meant he didn’t have to talk to Rosie or deal with how awkward it felt to face her.

Alastor tried once or twice to say something, but the words died on his tongue. Rosie was always so strong, so joyful most days. Now it was as if all the light in her simply died. Alastor couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like to love somebody so strongly it could make you look like a shell of themselves. He hoped that he never knew what it was like to fall in love. To give anyone that much power over him was terrifying. 

It wasn’t raining. A blessing Vox was grateful for, digging up moist soil wasn’t ideal. In preparation of digging Vox made sure to bring some clothes he didn’t mind getting filthy, with his suit kept in the bathroom to change into later. Rosie came by, offering him a towel and a cold drink. Vox whispered his thanks, refusing the towel but taking the drink. His head didn’t sweat and he wasn't about to strip down in front of everyone.

“Do you mind if I borrow your shower? I’ll make it quick.” Vox asked Rosie.

“...Of course. Thank you Vox. You’re a good friend.”

It felt like a dagger to the heart. Without being able to breathe he answered, “Anytime. I’ll be right back.”

Vox’s departure gave Alastor a chance to talk to Rosie alone. Not that having him around was a problem. Things had only been slightly awkward since he ended up accidentally falling asleep in Vox’s arms. When Alastor awoke Vox was already gone and neither thought to bring it up, a fact Alastor was grateful for. How would he begin to explain that?  It was making him self-conscious around Vox when he never had reason to before.Thoughts that he pushed past, today he needed to be somebody for Rosie to lean on.

“Rosie…I cannot even begin to imagine what you are going through. If there’s anything you need, do not hesitate to ask me or Vox. We’re here for you..”

Rosie didn’t move a muscle, she vacantly stared in the same place where Vox once was. Toward the empty grave which would soon hold… nothing but the ashes of the man she loved. There wasn’t even a body to honor like they would on earth. There wasn’t even a proper headstone, they had found a large rock and carved something into it. It was so shoddy, cheap, and not at all what Cyril deserved. But all they could find on such short notice.

Months later that would change, but today? Only a lonely rock.

Alastor followed her gaze. The silence didn’t give him much to go on, how DO you help a grieving widow? A compliment? “I know you’re stronger than this Rosie! You’re Beautiful, charming, a wonderful cook, and a powerful Overlord! You’ve changed this town, it’s like day and night! Maybe I should have made YOU my apprentice!”

Rosie turned her head to match his gaze. It was so emotionless it was like staring into a doll’s face. “Alastor. Please, I’d like to be alone with my thoughts for now.”

“Mm, right. Not a word more.” Alastor conceded. His lips tugged to the side, the closest he could get to a frown as his signal buzzed with annoyance. More so for the rejection than sympathy for her grief. What a ridiculous thing. He grieved over his mother of course, but that was one thing. To allow somebody's death to make you look so hollow? Could never be him. Alastor tried, his obligation was fulfilled.

He wished Vox was here. Standing in pure silence with nothing but an empty grave for the company was hardly entertaining. Nothing but his thoughts to carry him on, as even the luxury of humming a good jaunty tune would be inconsiderate. For anyone else, he’d even sing celebrating the death! Cyril didn’t even earn something like fondness from him, only respect for Rosie held his tongue.

Twenty minutes wasn’t a long time for a man to shower and change into a suit. But it was still unbearably long for Alastor who had started to feel anger toward his partner taking so long. The moment Vox walked through the door he felt an immense relief, with his radio signal trilling in joy. Vox looked his way in surprise for some... odd reason. He had been standing in much the same place. Whatever may be on his mind, he wouldn’t share it seemed.

“Sorry about that! So, are we ready to… lower him?”

Rosie nodded solemnly. She spun in place and picked up the urn that collected what she could of his ashes. The man’s name was written on the front, sealed tight to protect it. Rosie handed it to Vox, who put one foot into the grave to lay it on its base inside and crawled back out with the help of Alastor’s hand as a support. The two gentlemen took a step back together with Vox’s head bowed. Alastor kept looking on proudly straight ahead. Rosie kept her back to the two, hands placed over her heart as she summoned the words she wanted to entrust to her late husband. A dedication to a memory.

“I don’t… know what a woman’s supposed to say when the man she thought she’d be spending a literal eternity with simply disappears into dust. Last week you were cleaning out the gutters, telling me how I was the most beautiful woman in the world while you watched me trim the roses. Three days ago you were telling me about how you preordered me a new copy of my favorite book because the old one was falling apart. Now you’re… nothing.” Rosie’s shoulders trembled, arm raised to wipe the tears brimming to her face. 

“I hated my first husband, had him for dinner, and feasted like a queen! Thought to myself, ‘Marriage just ain’t right for you Rosie. And that’s alright!’. Then you came around. I thought you were an idiot. A cute one! But still an idiot. Always smiling, joking, trying to make me laugh because you loved the sound.”

Vox was making a complicated expression, gripping his sleeve so tightly he was at risk of tearing the fabric. It was Alastor who had stopped him from making his arm bleed from stress, a hand laid on top of the back of Vox’s. A gentle touch was all it took for him to relax. The tension dropped from the overlord's shoulders, but it was clear the man’s heart was breaking. Unlike Alastor’s which was as calm as a still lake.

“I can still remember the day when you banged your dang head into a shop sign because you were so busy gawking at me. You weren’t paying attention and ended up clothes-lining yourself! It was hardly the first time you saw me you lunk! And you always showed far too many teeth when you smiled! You also had this… horrible habit of sticking your tongue out when you were lost in thought and… hic...I miss you so much.” Rosie’s voice cracked, and with it, Vox could feel his own heart mimicking it. 

The various skirts crumbled around Rosie as her legs gave out. The handkerchief in her hand pressed to her face to catch her tears as she broke out into a mournful wail. Nothing but the wind dared to interrupt her. Vox and Alastor could only watch uselessly as this woman battled a monster that none of them could face, a monster you couldn’t vanquish. Only something you learned to live with. Today, Rosie was falling apart and the Overlord everyone thought invincible was reduced to a woman overnight.

Vox approached Rosie, touching her shoulder. Her head whipped around with tears filling her hollow sockets. Vox fell to his knees beside her and wordlessly pulled her into an embrace, cradling the back of her head and let her hide her tears at least from the rest of the world while he stroked her hair. Rosie clutched to his arms, his back, tugged on the suit, and fell against him.

Alastor watched, feeling useless. Unknown to the other two, there was one other visitor among them. SHE stood by his side, an arm draped around his shoulders without so much as a by your leave. “Look at them. Breaking out into tears over their dear friend's death. But you don’t feel a thing, do you?”

Alastor didn’t dignify her with an answer. He didn’t need to. SHE would say her piece and leave him eventually.

“And that’s why you’re above them, Alastor. You’re rational and sensible, A step above this rabble. Cyril was obnoxious, stupid, and careless. Why bother shedding tears over such a useless man?”

He agreed, though he’d never admit it out loud. But he didn’t appreciate the echo of his thoughts whispering in his ear.

“Look at Vox. Rosie. The two people you are closest to, they know how to react. They know how to be human, but you aren’t like them. One day they’ll realize what you are, they’ll fear you, and that day you’ll devour them.” SHE sighed wistfully, anticipating the day.

Alastor wrinkled his nose, swallowing the bile in his throat when her painted red lips pressed against his cheek. Kissing. Eugh, all he could imagine was the thousands of bacteria and the slightly damp sensation of her mouth against his face. What the hell was pleasant about that?!

Today Alastor realized something important. How alone he truly was.

After Rosie managed to cry everything out, Vox helped her back inside. He even volunteeded to make the tea. Usually it was Cyril or Rosie always in the kitchen preparing their drinks and treats. Cyril would never take that place again and Rosie was not in a condition to to much of anything. It took a bit of exploration of the kitchen for Vox to find the kettle and tea leaves, working hastily as if they didn't have all of eternity. Rosie waited slumped on the chair, with Alastor joining the two hanging by the back of Rosie’s chair.

“I’m going to make something to help Rosie get some sleep, she doesn’t look like she has slept much the past few days. I can make you some coffee if you want instead Al.” Vox offered.

“Oh, do not mind me. Please, worry about Rosie. I have my dear companions taking care of the digging so you do not need to get out of that dashing suit of yours.”

Vox nearly dropped the kettle in his hand, so caught off the compliment. He grunted and turned his back to Alastor, putting the kettle on the stove to heat the water. “Thanks. You… look nice like always too. Thank you for handling the grave too.”

“Of course, no need to thank me...”

The afternoon passed in a bit of a daze. Not much more conversation stirred as Rosie drank from the cup Vox offered. He’d never made tea before so he couldn’t even tell if it was good. Rosie drank it all regardless. The hollows of her eyes were completely red, with telltale shadows from the past couple of nights where sleep got away from her. Today she managed to cry and get it out of her system. Vox hoped some peace would reach her at least in her dreams.

They stayed for only an hour longer, waiting for the tea to settle in and then Alastor escorted her to the bedroom. Not a step further, as that was considered ‘improper’.They didn’t linger once she settled in for the night. When the pair left her home, a heavy gloom settled in the air. Vox wobbled as he walked, the events still weighing clearly on his shoulders.

“You’re a natural at this.” Alastor broke the long silence. A spark of electricity danced from Vox’s antennae. He raised his head, making eye contact hoping he’d elaborate. The Radio Demon gentled his smile. “Comforting people. You knew exactly what to do when Rosie collapsed there with tears. I had no idea what to do.”

“...Well, think about it. If you lost somebody important to you overnight, what would you need most in that moment?”

Alastor had only lost one important person in his life. Sickness had taken his mother far too young. The pitiful salary he made wasn’t enough to save her, even when he stole the wallets of wealthier men. Doctors would hike their prices and look at him with suspicion because of the color of his skin. Beneath his clothing, her old Rosary pressed against his skin as a constant reminder of his failure. The treasure he sold promising to save her life, when he didn’t. 

“Don’t be silly Vox! Do you think I would ever be reduced to such a state? Mother taught me well to always keep going on with a smile.”

Vox chuckled. “You’re strong then. If you died tomorrow I wouldn’t be able to function. I don’t even want to think of a world like that.”

Now, why did he have to put it so honestly like that? Unbeknownst to Alastor a dash of red bloomed across his cheeks, with a fluttering in his chest that he would have preferred to go without. “Quite natural of course! We know I am both the brains and the looks in this operation! But… you make me laugh more than anyone in Hell so; I fear nobody else could make even half the apprentice you do.” Alastor conceded, being the first to break eye contact this time.

“You mean there’s nobody you like tormenting half as much in Hell. I’ve mastered your spice, Al! But don’t think I haven’t noticed you sneaking in that meat I can’t identify!”

“Oh? And why are you still eating it then? You certainly haven’t been complaining about the taste.”

Vox raised his shoulders in a shrug. “When I don’t… think too hard about where it came from and I can’t tell it came from a sinner then it doesn’t bother me anymore. Once I got used to all the spice… I’m kind of addicted to your cooking. If you were a woman I would have asked you to marry me years ago.”

“HAH! And what makes you think I’d ever marry you, dear Picture Box? If I were a woman I’d only accept the best of the best for a husband you know!” A beat passed, with Alastor sighing. “I have never snuck anything untoward into your meals either. The kitchen is a sacred place, if you wish to try my delicacies some time… I can accommodate.”

“Really?” It was genuinely shocking for Vox, having seen so much of that sinner flesh wrapped up in unidentified wrapping paper never knowing when it might be snuck into his bowl. He made… far too many assumptions about Alastor and didn’t ask even half as many questions as he should. He would fix that.

Vox kicked a stone on the path, thrusting his hands into his pockets. He took a sudden great interest in the windows with their displays. Planks and trash bags covered up the broken windows, making the once beautiful street feel more unsafe and run down than it used to. “Then I guess I’d have to become the best of the best.”

It was something he couldn’t explain, the way Alastor’s heart ached when he heard those words. It was a nonsensical what-if. He was no woman, and if there were a world where he was a woman and Vox was a man? It’s not like… they’d find each other. It was a preposterous thought in any case. “Quite the statement to make when we saw how losing her husband destroyed Rosie.”

“It’d still be worth it,” Vox answered without hesitation. “I mean...” He coughed into his fist, suddenly so unsure of his answer. “It could only hurt that much because he made Rosie that happy right? I don’t think mourning could be any worse than living with regret or wondering what could have been.”

A long period of only static emitted from Alastor as he thought about it. It was like his world had ended when his mother died, but he wouldn’t trade meeting her for the world. When he thought about it like that? It was worth it. Without hesitation as Vox put it. “You make a lot of sense, old friend.” And quite the thought to chew on. There could never be another like his mother, but Vox was becoming a… not-insignificant person to him. Far too close for somebody he was meant to sacrifice. He once more reminded himself to lock up his heart, as ticklish as the fancies were of impossible dreams.

And a further loathing for those genuine words of trust. Like a poisonous barb digging deeper whenever he reminded himself to stop getting so attached.

The silence stretched between them until they returned to Vox’s home. More and more often Alastor had been staying in the house. Always as a guest even when he was starting to sleep there more often than in his place. Having time alone was nice, but after a while, Alastor began to realize how nice it was to have somebody at home with you. To greet you, distract you when your mind is troubled, share in the everyday little joys that are discovered. The everyday life he once had with his mother, even if different.

“Coming inside tonight or…” Vox stuck the key, turning the lock. Hanging at the door as Alastor made his decision.

“I could use a drink. Do we still have that rye?”

Vox held the door open for him, gesturing with his arm to welcome him inside. “We do! And who were you feeling tonight?”

“Let’s… go with a classic tonight. Buddy.”

“Mr. Bolden it is.”

Vox handled the record player, pulling the familiar record from its sleeve. The sound of jazz chased away the silence before long. Alastor poured the two of them glasses of rye on the couch, getting comfortable with a glass before Vox could even take his seat. Since he was up, Vox got comfortable. Removing his jacket and loosening his bowtie to hang around his shoulders. The cushions sank beneath the TV demon’s weight, with a sigh he was holding spilling free finally off his feet and free from the burden of digging a grave. Once, the two would sit on opposite ends of the couch but these days they didn’t mind an elbow brush here or there. In some way, they unconsciously desired the proximity.

Vox eased into the couch as he took a deep first pull. At once the stinging and cleansing taste of the powerful alcohol shot through his systems making him shiver. The lights were still left off, with only Vox’s screen to illuminate the space and the faint light that streamed in from the windows. Dark shadows smothered the world, as though it was leaving the two in a world all of their own.

“Hey-- Al. What… do you think happens to us when we y’know, double die?” The thought had been sitting at the recess of Alastor’s mind ever since he heard about the permanent eradication of so many souls. Unprepared, they had decimated the number of sinners. But none of the hellborn were dead, that anyone could see. Alastor spun the glass in his hand, pensively watching the ice as it clinked off the sweating glass.

“I imagine there’s nothing left on the other side. This is it.”

“I’ve wondered that too. But-- what is the point of Hell?”

“How do you mean? It’s to make people like you and me suffer.”

“I suffered when I was alive. My entire life was a living hell, but down here I feel like I’m my own man for the first time in--- ever.” Vox sat up a little taller, motioning with his hands in some desperate attempt to guide his thoughts. “I mean, I hate this body hell gave me. It sucks. But I’m happier than I ever was when I was… alive.”

Alastor had never compared the joy of one to the other. They were two entirely different beasts. The streets of Louisiana in the heart of the Jazz Age and his mother were irreplaceable. Indulging his nature and flourishing in Hell was a slice of heaven as opposed to suffering as far as he was concerned. The glass was raised as another swig of brandy coated his tongue. “So, what’s your point?”

Vox rubbed the back of his neck, about to falter when he was right about to get to what he was leading up to. “What if-- this is like a trial? Or just another in-between in a cycle? What if… we go back to Earth? Taking the lessons of what happens to us in some small way with us. Something to make that little voice in our heads say that’s a bad idea.”

Alastor looked Vox straight in the eyes, having to test if he was dead serious about this fanciful theory. It seemed… ridiculous! But the earnest look in his eyes said everything. “It seems a little hopeful to me, old chum. Besides, would you want to return to Earth?”

“Hah- no. I’d rather stay here. When I first fell? Sure. If it meant losing all my memories I’d take that in a heartbeat. I have too much to lose now.”

A heavy sigh left the Radio Demon. Now leaning over to refill both their glasses that he had been drained. A single drink would not be near enough for after a funeral. “I can’t say I believe this to be true. But if it were, that means Rosie would get to see Cyril again. So, for her sake, I’ll hope there’s some truth to your theory! A Toast, to Cyril.”

“To Cyril.”

The glasses clinked together, with the two chugging the next shot down for the old friend who couldn’t be there to share it with them.

“You never spoke with Cyril much, did you?” Vox asked.

“You’re full of topics tonight, aren’t you?”

“If you’d rather silently drink, I could do that.”

Alastor chuckled, answering with a shrug. Couldn’t argue that. “No. He was a decent lad all things considered. But I… don’t like the company of men that much to be honest. Cyril included. I prefer women.”

Vox sucked through his teeth, looking down at his own body. “You… don’t seem to have any trouble being friends with me. And last I checked, I’m a man.”

“Haha! Oh dear no. You’re… an exception.” Alastor confessed, tracing the rim of his glass. “Most men are so… brutish idiots thriving on lust and violence. But you’re different. You’re clever, quick on your feet even under pressure, resourceful, have exceptional emotional intelligence, funny, and even charming when you want to be. I’m a standard most men could never hope to achieve but you’re…”

Alastor motioned over his body with his glass. “An obtainable yet lofty goal!”

“Can’t go without reminding everyone how much greater you are, can you?” Vox rolled his eyes, though the smile from frame to frame said otherwise. He was beaming from the compliment, daring to scoot a little closer. When he shifted his hand to support him, his fingers brushed against Alastor’s. The two remained frozen for a second, expecting one or the other to move away. When several seconds passed they settled and Vox continued.

“ I don’t need to tell you how exceptional you are if you already know it. But… thank you. Little harsh on Cyril though, he was a good friend. He was always so excited to see my studio grow, offering suggestions and talking about the shows I had. He’s a supportive friend, and he would have been with you too if you were less….”

“Intimidating?” Alastor finished the sentence, his smile turning rueful. Normally even touching somebody's fingers like this was uncomfortable for Alastor. Despite everything he found himself adjusting his hand so his fingertips curled underneath one of the claws. It evoked such a soft and strange lurch in his heart. Vox seemed to be struggling, massaging his leg with his free hand and wandering his eyes like he had forgotten everything he was about to say. There was that familiar nervous laughter he always made when he forgot what he was talking about. So Alastor helped him along.

“Cyril was intimidated by me right?”

“AH! Yeah!” Vox’s voice cracked as he answered, gripping his knee a little harder. The smile he put on was forced, but cute for some reason. “I was pretty intimidated by you too when we first met so I understand that pretty well. Could be because you wanted to kill me, twice. If Cyril.. comes back, maybe he can be your friend too. Might like him better than you thought.”

That was a pretty big IF there. Vox’s theory had no basis in reality, no evidence, nothing but thin hope that he’d get to see his friend again. But if he lost somebody that important, he’d want to believe there would be a one day too. If it made today easier. “I suppose I can round the edges a little. However, I feel quite content with the company I keep now.”

Vox found himself able to relax a little. Enough to pick up his cup again and swallow another hasty swig of whiskey. But the other hand did not move even an inch.

“Does it not bother you?” Alastor kept his gaze on the half empty glass. The question without context only confused Vox, raising his head waiting for some confirmation. “How little I care. It frightens others.”

A buzz rang from Vox’s speakers with realization. “Ah! Not at all. It’s a little exhausting having to pretend in public so having somebody who can keep a calm head at home is a relief. You’re the only person I can spend all my time with and not feel exhausted.”

The ice in the glass clattered as Alastor shifted the weight in his hand. Sitting in the dark was normally something Alastor hated, but it wasn’t something to be worried about as long as the bright company of his friend was beside him. “So you aren’t bothered by Cyril’s death?”

Vox’s gaze shifted, his claws clicking against the glass with a guilty frown. “No. I feel more annoyed that my day was consumed by a funeral and having to be an emotional support for Rosie, and I hate myself for feeling that way. I would never tell Rosie any of this, but I think I would only care if you or her died. I liked Cyril, I really honestly did! I’m just… broken..”

Vox’s world was mystifying and strange. Many of the same thoughts he had ran through Vox’s mind as well. He brushed his hand to slip beneath the palm delighting even in the way his reckless movement cut his hand in the process. At once he watched that boxy head turn to stare at the place their hands met, with the digital face flashing through so many comically amusing faces. He could never tire of watching them.

“What a coincidence. I don’t feel as though I need to be on performance with you either. Close your legs for once, I feel like taking a nap and I don’t feel like getting up.” The command made Vox’s screen briefly flash into lines of multicolored blocks, followed by a prompt snapping of his knees hitting one another. Alastor wasted no time snatching his hand back and falling over to steal the lap that was provided to him.

Arms raised, Vox blinked slowly watching as Alastor simply made himself comfortable. He wasn’t allowed to go idle long, with a tentacle snatching one of his hands to press against his hair demanding scalp scratches. “Brat…” Vox muttered under his breath.

He stated… as he gave that brat exactly what he wanted. The brush of those claws against his ears made them flick wildly, with each brush of those points touching the sensitive back of his neck loosened the infamous radio demon enough to emit a deer-like trill. Good sense convinced Vox to not say word, even as he felt a fluttery feeling in his chest over how damned cute it was.