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Everything was gone.
Fucking everything was gone.
After Val had proclaimed ownership of Voxtek, hinting at a new name. After Vox himself had defiled his public image beyond salvation. Killed hundreds with his angelic weapon.
Val had ripped him apart, and Velvette had ripped him a new one the moment the tower doors had locked. This continued, whenever the inspiration struck her, for the following weeks. Like today.
“Are you fucking kidding me! Your image, of course. Thats the first thing you thought of, thats all you care about, you absolute shithead!” Velvette raved, flipping her hair in sync with her rage. Her heeled foot tapped against the floor, her phone temporarily forgotten in her palm as she rubbed her temples. “Satan on a platter, Vox, how the fuck am I supposed to paint you as anything but the egotistical maniac you are!”
Vox cringed from his place on the bedside table. Val's tablet holder had been promoted to his new rest, and he was stuck staring out at the room. Even his wires wouldn't obey him, with how little influence he had as of now.
Velvette was working on his image- that was great. He hadn't dema- asked her to, unless Val had. He couldn't imagine why. He couldn't even apologize. It caught in his circuits, his little pride remaining chaining his voice inside. Instead, he let out a long wheeze, frantically searching for a defense, a redirection, anything.
“Don't even fucking start.” Velvette threatened, wiggling her phone towards him. “Ive more than a right to kick your ass right now, but Val beat me to it.” Vox's response died before he could express it. Velvette softened, every so slightly, at the look on his face. “Look. I’m just saying you left us with a real shitshow to clean up. I’m allowed to fuckin’ complain.”
“It wouldn't need cleaning up if you'd just-” Vox started, frustration fritzing the vowels of his speech.
“Shut the fuck up!” Velvette howled back, face twisted with fury. She scowled at him, before turning on her heel to look down at the phone. Her tone was resolute, no nonsense, and thoroughly done. “Just because Val handles that shit, doesn't mean I gotta. Leave the damn pity party Vox. We're both out here, dumbfuck.” With that, Velvette made her exit.
“Fuuuuuuck you.” Vox muttered, as quiet as his system would allow. He was once again left in silence. In excruciating silence, he would insist, as it seemed to grow and morph around him, buzzing and humming. The buildings electronics filtered into his audio system, and he closed his eyes to flip through the cameras in the building.
Lobby was fucked. Full of reporters, and even a few protesters. Ethan seemed to be overwhelmed by the demons crowding the front desk, yelling and clambering over each other to speak to the Voxtek representative first.
Or maybe it was Valtek now. Or Veetek.
His cameras switched on instinct, searching out his companions. Velvette was still striding through the hallway outside of the penthouse, now on the phone with someone. She seemed even more irritated, if that was possible.
And Val. Val was in his studio, running through some ancient greek type roleplay thing. Laid across a chaise like a king, Val directed. He waved his arm this way, that. The mics were lowered and Vox was able to hear a bit more of the moaning and grunting. The actors were already tongue deep into some hole, but Vox didn't care about them, and Val was smoking with somebody pulled into his lap.
Not just somebody. Vox focused, squinting to zoom the camera in. It was Angel Dust, the fucking harlot, sprawled across Val's lap like he owned the place. Vox burned as Angel leaned in for a kiss, shotgunning Valentino's aphrodisiac like the finest cigar. Angel giggled, blowing the pink smoke through his lips as he bat his lashes at Valentino.
Enough.
Vox blinked, cutting his view of the studio. Now he stared out at their things, at the great big nothing between them and choking the air out of the room. This stupid fucking room. So empty, blank space spanning the floors occasionally broken up by expensive furniture or sex shit Valentino wanted.
What had felt regal and breezy now echoed around him. The silence was unbearable. Massive windows spanned across one end of the room, allowing him a clear view into the hell he had been so close to ruling. Walls and glass seemed to stretch endlessly before a distant ceiling. The bed, so small it seemed insignificant and fit for a doll in this empty penthouse.
He wished he could move. Even wiggle his antennae and nudge his screen off this table. But no, fucking no, he couldn't even do that. He couldn't do fucking anything.
Vox didn't realize he was giggling until it erupted into a laugh, choking and loud. He couldn't do anything! He couldn't run a company without help. Couldn't convince Zestial or Rosie to join them, couldn't build his own weapon with his own failsafes, couldn't keep his damn hands to himself or think ahead.
Couldn't defeat Alastor. Couldn't! One fucking guy.
His manic laughter rung around him, and Vox so desperately wished for his arms. For even the twitch of a wire, so he could smash his face down against the corner of this table. To throw his fist through someones skull, to rip his cords out and count which ones Alastor touched. So he could claw those papers off his desk and light them on fire, light it all on fire, break the glass in those dumb fucking windows and throw himself out of them.
If he could control the wires, he could hang himself.
Or maybe he couldn't! He didn't have lungs!
The laughter turned to a scream without his notice, and Vox rattled with weak vibrations. He couldn't even move, couldn't shatter himself! Idiot, idiot, fucking idiot! What use could he have, what use could be possibly be with his reputation so tainted?
It'll never be enough. You're broken from the start, no victory will fill your cup.
What was he thinking, what the fuck was wrong with him, why was he even here, Val and Velvette clearly didn’t need him. They wanted him around to gloat, he decided. To brag and dangle him in front of any victory, to wipe his name off everything hes ever made and.
Why wouldn't they just kill him? Maybe Alastor was right, maybe he does beg. He would beg for it right now, if anyone were here to listen.
No, no, not right. Vox's voice cracked back into silence, the scream so suddenly muted it was as if the silence itself had slammed. No, they didn't want to gloat or steal his business. Then they might be here. He realized, a fleeting thought he caught by the tail and dragged back, that they didn't want him at all. Why else would Valentino tear him apart, why else would Velvette come up here every damn day and rub her success into his face? To remind him they were perfectly capable without him? He knew that, he knew that, he did, but, still, couldn't it be possible they needed him?
Not anymore, Vox realized. Not any fucking more. He had cemented them as the top dogs of hell, and had fallen to the waste basket while doing so.
In the silence, Vox ached. He strained, to do something. His new bodies creation was, apparently, outsourced to the king of Lust. It had been expensive, very much so, and It had been Velvette's only option. Now that Baxter, the traitorous bastard, had left the company for Alastors dumb fucking hotel, his body would be fully mechanical. He couldn't regenerate fully without media support.
Alastor. Alastor. Fucking Alastor.
And the bastard didn't even have the grace to kill him before Valentino did.
The door swung open, slamming against the wall and leaving a hole where the handle sat. Vox didn't look up, as he couldn't move, but his attention zeroed in on the only other input in the room.
“Oh my goooood, it's crazy how stupid some of your little souls can be.” Val complained, slinking into the room and immediately pulling his cigar to his lips. Pink smoke curled through the room. “Its not that hard to put your knees above your head! It's actually like, bare minimum.” He settled onto the bed, sprawling across it like he had just done back breaking work for the past 8 hours, instead of yell orders from a couch.
Vox watched, unable to bring words to his mouth for once. He hoped he didn't look too fucked up. He wished he had arms, so he could straighten his tie. He didn't have a tie, actually, he was just a head. Fuck.
“Voxxxxxxxyyyyy. Baby, im telling you how I managed to almost split one of your employees in half today.” Val sat up on his elbows, kicking his feet as he tilted his head at Vox. “Carino, I know there's thoughts in that big head of yours. Where did you go?”
At that, Vox's screen glitched. When he did reply, he felt uncharacteristically small.
“I don't know.”
Val huffed, tugging a pillow to his chest so he could lay on his front and still look at Vox. One hand rested on his face, and he used to other to twirl the ipad stand holding Vox towards him.
“Lying doesn't look good on you,” The moth replied, his eyes tracing around Vox's screen. Unable to look away, Vox instead squeezed his eyes shut. Valentino chuckled, and finally, finally, Vox felt warm hands grab the corners of his screen and pull him close. “C'mon, papi. Talk to me. I know you want to.”
“No I don't." Vox replied, on instinct. He scowled at Valentino's chuckle, a blush warming his screen. It was a little dizzying to be moved around at Val's will, but it was better than the stand. The room seemed to shrink again, until their bed was rightfully filling the space. Val held him like an ipad in front of his face, raising an eyebrow.
“You're such a little drama queen. Assmode, or Astriel, or whatever the fuck his name is, is working on a gorgeous new body for you,” Val reassured him, tracing a finger along the edge of his screen. “a very flexible, expensive body. Said it should be done in the next couple days.”
“I want to kill myself.” Vox replied flatly. He watched Val raise an eyebrow.
“Yeah? I sorta noticed. Yknow, especially when your suicide plan involved killing us too.” Val said sharply, pulling a pillow from Vox's side of the bed to prop the TV up to look at him. Just so he could cross all 4 arms.
“You can't seriously-”
“You don't tell me what to do anymore!” Valentino shot back, tossing a wrist up in a dismissive movement. “Yeah, whatever, your monumental failure has you wishing you could throw yourself out the window and hang yourself with your cords. Sooo last week, babe.” Valentino relaxed further against the bed, splaying his legs apart.
“I. I dont… know, how I can…” Vox started, and stopped. That was. Painfully close. Valentino huffed and rolled his wrist in a ‘go on' gesture. Vox took a few more moments of silence.
“...I don't know what to do.” He finished lamely.
“Welllllll. Could always learn to start a sentence that doesn't start with I. Or Me, or Vox.” It was said deceptively gentle, like Val hadn't just thrown a boulder into Vox's self preservation tactics. They met eyes, and Valentino was clearly waiting for something. For the shouting, for the dismissal, for the defensiveness. It didn't come.
“You're not the only one shaken up. Do you know what I had to do yesterday, Voxxy? I had to do paperwork. Me. For new hires.” Val spoke sternly, but he also pulled Vox's screen closer. “Velvette has been running herself ragged trying to round up your reporters and keep Katie on topic. But she's been doing it. We both have.”
He was saying all this like Vox didn't know. Like he hadn't had every hour of the past two weeks to flip through every camera, replay every scene, agonizing where he went wrong, how could he fix this. Valentino continued before Vox could open his mouth.
“And that's fine.”
Now, that wouldn't do.
“No its fucking not, Val. Not really. Thats my job, I’m supposed to be in cha- I'm supposed to be doing that. Not you, not Velvette.” Silence filled the room around them, Valentino's glowing eyes practically burning holes into his screen. The fact that he could barely see was hardly a comfort, this close. When Vox finished, it was notably quieter. “She doesn't like Katie.”
Valentino's stern expression melted into something else, something Vox wasn't willing to label. “I know, baby.”
The silence around them didn't feel so choking anymore. Valentino seemed as relaxed as he ever was, idly playing with his fishnets and watching Vox. Waiting.
“And those reporters should know better than to crowd the lobby like that. We have a conference room, they know that, the qualified ones know where it is, they're just being cunts.”
“Mmhmm.”
“And new hires are fucking irritating. Half of them dont read through the code of conduct before their first day, so at least you'll have someone to shoot if they fuck up their paperwork anymore for you. Ethan knows how to set them up- thats below you. I'll make him do it.”
“Mmmmm.”
“Not to mention, no offense Val, but your top whore has to have been skimping out on feeding Shok.wav, because Velvette said he's hitting his fins against the sides of his tank, and he only does that when he's stressed out. If Angel's too depressed to do that, I don't really see a use for him. Unless sad black and white pornos are your new thing.” Valentino still seemed to be waiting. Vox wrought his memory for something, anything.
“Uhhuh. Definitely not because daddy got decapitated. ”
“Regardless, I can help! Just let me-”
“No.” Valentino stopped him before he could even start, pulling his screen up to hover over him. Like if he was straddling his lap. Vox couldn't do that anymore, he didn't have legs.
“Sitting here is awful. It's driving me insane.”
“You'd still sit here if you had legs. Don't you watch the cameras all day, carinó?”
“What- I- what the fuck does that even mean?” Vox demanded, scowling down at Val.
“Baby, did you even think about why I told you Velvette and I were doing fine? Did you think I came down here to gloat?” Valentino asked, raising an eyebrow.
Vox's face shrunk, and he had the decency to look a bit ashamed. Valentino whacked at the corner of his screen, not really aiming to cause damage.
“No, you idiot! We're worried about you. Fuck, I’m willing to bet my three top sluts that you were imagining ways you could kill yourself before I came in here.”
“Uh,”
“Yeah, thats what I fucking thought.”
Vox scowled. He opened his mouth, and closed it. The moment dragged on, Val staring him down until Vox rolled his eyes.
“Does this mean I get your top three sluts?” The TV pointed out, tone a bit softer.
“Ugh, NO! Like you'd even know what to do with all that ass,” Val replied, bringing Vox closer to his face as he curled up. “We didn't want you to get stressed out. This isn't my first rodeo, y'know?”
Vox was vaguely insulted to be referred to as a rodeo. He continued listening.
“And you always get so, bleugh, after. Its like, necessary I guess, but there’s only so much suicide talk this babe can handle,” Valentino expressed this by using his lower arms to stroke up his hips and sides, angling Vox downwards to see. When he was tilted back up, Valentino's face was soft. “I like hearing your schemes. Glad that sexy voice of yours is back.”
“They're only schemes if they don't work.”
“Shut up! Does this mean you're feeling good enough to use that mouth for more than threats of self harm?” Val bit his lip.
“What the fuck is wrong with you.”
“That wasn't a no, Voxxy~”
“It wasn't,” Vox confirmed, raising an eyebrow at Valentino. The moth just had a way of sneaking past his self pity. “But hey, you're the one that'll be doing all the work.”
“Tell that to your tongue.” Val purred, pulling the screen inches from his face. Vox supposed he didn't mind being pulled around so much.
Val seemed to know where he would want to be.