Chapter Text
Vox growled to himself. It has just been over a month since the failed Extermination and the Vee’s were still at the same level playing field wise. His supply board sparked, the fans surrounding it faintly audible as they draw in more and more air to try to cool it and the main board. Nearly 500 million watts gets channelled from Vox to Pentagram City alone, never mind the rest of Hell, and it was only when Vox gets stressed or emotional that he could accidently send double or triple that amount through his connection to the power grid (VoxTek, of course) and cause a seven ring-wide blackout, the failsafe’s kicking in and disconnecting from Vox for a few minutes otherwise he’d literally fry everything.
Thankfully, it was very early in his career as an Overlord and CEO when he found out the downsides to being Hell’s literal electrical grid, meaning that technology was rare when he discovered them. Vox still replaced the fried technology. He was a businessman, and doing so earned his reputation as a hard but fair supplier.
“Smells like burnt acid in here,” Velvette said, suddenly behind Vox as he slumped in his chair. “Have you fried your brain yet?”
“Ha ha,” Vox mutters, caressing the side of his Tv head, feeling the hot air get pushed out at a high pressure, along with the gill-like vents that are on his ribs, his vest and coat hanging off the back of his throne-like chair, allowing the air to pass through his silk shirt. Despite popular belief, all his important parts are in his chest behind reinforced Hell steel. Everything in his head was just extra drives that he uses for mental notes that get uploaded to his main drives during his sleep, along with a few mobile games and a few thousand pictures of his sharks to keep himself entertained during long, boring meetings. He has multiple Cores to delegate tasks to, after all. A Tv isn’t simply just a Tv, not in the 2020’s, and Vox has ended up as a compact, literal magic, supercomputer. “That would simply be my backup drives cooking itself.”
Velvette’s nose wrinkled. “Lovely.” She walked around his chair to face him, the fashionista frowning at how dull his LED screen was. “You look like shit, V.”
“I need a break, but you know what would happen if I left for a day or more.” He complained. “That would hit our profits, and-“
“Ugh, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but screw our profits. We can easily make them back twice, no, thrice over.” Velvette says, typing away on her Hellphone, custom made by Vox himself, already spinning a story about Vox on vacation. “I literally cannot remember the last time you took a break, never mind be disconnected from the grid, and we’ve been the Vees for nearly a decade and a half.”
Vox said nothing.
“I’m waiting for it~” Velvette sang, holding a handout to Vox. Upon Vox’s blank stare, she spread her fingers and wiggled them about, as if to entice the older Overlord.
He sighed, grabbing her hand, allowing the slightly smaller Overlord to pull him to his feet. “At least let me cycle a weeks’ worth of electricity before I go take a break.”
“Deal.” She grinned. “As long as you manually disconnect yourself for the full five days. You can reconnect yourself as soon as your shoes hit the Entertainment District.” She knew she couldn’t stop the work-o-holic from waiting until he stepped foot in V Tower, but with Vox, compromise was key.
“Deal.”
It was an average day in the Pentagram City of Hell. Nothing really stood out. That was until suddenly, everything electronic began turning off. At first, the citizens started all rolled their eyes, thinking the same thing; Vox is throwing a temper tantrum and overloaded everything.
Citizens began to grow annoyed when after ten minutes, the power was still off. Usually, it would only take a few minutes for the power to return, with a ‘Sorry for any inconvenience!’ displayed on any screen before everything returns to normal.
Nearly two hours later, all Hell broke loose. Citizens, not just from Pride, were panicking. Their tech wasn’t working, the electricity was depleted, and no one in Pride knew if that meant Vox was dead or not. It was startling, to realise how much you relied on someone for a billion different things. Hell, the other rings and their Sin’s were confused as to how the power imported from Pride is not working – that’s how much Hell relied on one Sinner.
(Meanwhile, Vox was reading a book, cuddled between the strong forelimbs of Vark. His baby had just gone through another growth spurt, the poor thing. According to his breed, Vark’s final adult form will be between twenty meters and twenty-six point seven meters long and would either be fifteen meters or twenty meters tall, with a few thousand pounds of pure muscle. Currently, he is nine meters tall as unlike his fully aquatic cousins, Vark sadly applies to the square-cube law, meaning that if his aquatic sharks live long enough, they could easily surpass Vark in size. Oh, how Vox could remember when Vark, and his other sharks, could fit into the palm of his hand! They were all so cute as pups!
Turning a page, Vox’s digital eyebrows rose at the plot twist. Using his cyan tipped fingers, he scratched behind him, feeling Vark’s scales. Vark feels between a lizard and a shark, texture wise, very smooth like rubbing freshly moisturised skin, wet yet not. As he did, a few dead scales fell off, revealing the new, bright scale underneath.
Vark rumbled in pleasure at the scratch, the frequency low enough that only Vox could hear. So cute!)
“It usually doesn’t take Vox this long to restore power,” Charlie said to herself, sitting on the couch, Vaggie at her side. Their new bonding session was using a game called ‘Heads Up’, something the Princess had read that friends do in the human world to bond and the Princess wanted to try it to get closer to her former-human friends, completely missing the point that the game was invented well after they died. “Do you think he’s alright?”
“Vox’s an Overlord, sugar,” Angel replied, not looking up from his crude drawings of Valentino getting railed by faceless demons as a quiet ‘fuck you’, a yellow headband with a card saying ‘Surfer’ on his forehead. “Plus, the other Vee’s would not be happy that their business partner is currently losing them money.”
“Angel is right, my dear!” Alastor said, having suddenly appeared behind Charlie and Vaggie, the latter simply rolling her eye at his dramatics, too used to his theatrics to truly get annoyed by them now. “My old pal is just throwing a tantrum. Knowing him, it will be something insignificant, like him, ha ha!”
“Still, it has been two hours.” Charlie frowned. “If Vox himself can’t turn on the power, can’t someone else? Like an employee? Surely, he has generator start-ups.”
Angel laughed at that. “Oh, that’s funny, princess!” He continued to laugh, only to notice the looks he was getting. A mixture of annoyance and confusion. He put one set of hands on his hips while the other he crossed in front of his chest, sketch book forgotten in his lap. “Wait, ya not kiddin’?”
“Does it look like we are kidding?” Vaggie flatly asks, raising her eyebrow.
“Shit, maybe it’s because its common knowledge if you work with the Vee’s. Hmm, how do I put this?” He tapped his foot. “Vox doesn’t just distribute electricity, and everythin’ that is powered by it (which is everythin’ now a days), he is the electrical grid. Guy literally brought electricity into Hell when he fell.” Angel had only been in Hell for six years when Vox fell, making it look like an angry star was falling as it seemingly ripped into being. In the years since, he has not seen a more chaotic entrance. Kudos to Vox though.
“What, seriously?” Husk asks, raising his eyebrows, trying to remember the day that Vox fell and came up with blanks. He was probably too busy being drunk and gambling. “Shit.”
“Yea, I don’t know how, but Vox managed to wire all of Hell, all seven rings, to himself. Apparently its why most Overlord’s won’t dare try to take him out; they need him too much to overhaul all of Hell’s systems, since everything after the 1940’s is made by him.”
“Hmm.” Alastor rolls his eyes, even as Charlie, Vaggie, Husk and Nifty all make noises of acknowledgement and amazement, in Charlie’s case. Still, his thoughts go to the most logical explanation; if the power is off for so long, does that mean Vox is dead?
“Does this mean Vox is dead?” Vaggie asks, sounding dubious. “It usually doesn’t take this long for power to come back.”
“Well, let’s check Vee tower.” Angel shrugs. “If that’s offline, then it’s highly likely Vox has croaked. That tower is practically his ninth child.”
“Ninth child?” Charlie asks as she stands, wondering if Vox was one the rare Sinners who could reproduce. The chance was practically non-existent, but it was possible. Charlie herself was proof, with some literal angelic intervention. But nine?
“After his shark pets, toots. Vivian, Valerie, Vera, Vance, Vito, Vihaan, Victor and Vark.” Angel listed the sharks with ease, as he knew for a fact that Vox has blown off Val for some Shark Time.
“I’m seeing a pattern with the names beginning with ‘V’.” Vaggie deadpans.
“Wooooow, you must be a detective, with observation skills like those.” Came Angel’s equally deadpan reply.
They all shuffle to the font doors, even Alastor, squinting out into the darkness that should be a bright and bustling Pentagram City. In the distance, only one area was lit; if you can call a fluctuating Vee territory ‘lit’. Then, the lights in the Vee Overlord’s land slowly wink out, like stars quietly fading from the night sky.
Strange, that in the end, it went out quietly rather than a loud bang.
Eventually, the last light to go out was Vee tower, whose LED lights were fluttering, clearly struggling to maintain their light output. The multi-colours that lit up the building and the vVv sign flashed red before they too were no more, leaving Pentagram City in true darkness for the first time in decades.
Alastor’s ear twitched as he could feel the radio waves and static electricity in Hell suddenly drop, signalling to him that Vox has stopped transmitting all of Hell’s ‘inter-web’ through himself. The air had less static, with no electricity to generate it. He nearly shivered. It was strange, to have the air ways so clean, without Vox’s steady (if annoying) radio waves. He didn’t like it, not one bit.
“Well shit,” Husk says, taking a long gulp of his bottle. “Seems like Vox is dead.”
(Vox yawns, letting Vark snuggle up to him, acting more like a cat than a shark. Vark’s powerful tail curls up, his muscled limbs caging his Father inside of the little half circle Vark has made. Vark sniffs at Vox’s face, which displayed only two closed eyes and a flat mouth, with a bubble slowly inflating and deflating, with cartoon ‘Z’s floating up the side of his face.
He has no idea that Hell, somehow, managed to use five days’ worth of electricity in one and a half days, and the generators, without any new electricity, slowly power down Hell, causing a slow crawl blackout as it routes power according to Vox’s important criteria. Eventually, even the Vee’s territory began to get effected.
(Velvette screamed in pure rage as the Wi-Fi cuts off. “Fuck! How the Hell did we lost five days’ worth of electricity in less than two!”
Valentino wisely said nothing, knowing that Velvette should not be aware of the LED screens he had been running non-stop to simulate an alien planet orgy. He just needed the atmosphere, literally, you know? Weird porn won’t make itself.)
Vark rumbles, pleased that Father was sleeping, before resting his head on the bed, relaxing the spines on his shoulders, closing his large round eyes, and nodding off as Sinners and Hellborn start truly panicking once Vee tower flickers off.)
Alastor could feel his smile tighten, much like the grip he has on his cane.
If it was true, if Vox truly was dead…how dare he.
Alastor had poured his time and attention into Vox, and this is how he repays him?! By getting killed, not by Exterminators, but by some lucky low life scum! The sheer nerve of that picture box! His plans can not be wasted! And his killer! Oh, once Alastor caught the one responsible, he will flay their meat from their bones, force them to eat it then tear out their stomachs to feast upon them in some strange form of rolled meat!
The entire group stepped away from Alastor as the sound of static increased, symbols appearing in the air as he grinned into the distance, his left eye twitching as shadows danced around him.
“While Tall, Dark and Creepy is having his hate boner, what should we do?” Angel asks, looking towards Charlie, who was nervously wringing her hands.
“I can ask my Dad?” She asked aloud, mostly to herself.
“Ask me what?”
Everyone except Alastor, Husk and Nifty jumped (Alastor because of his ‘hate boner’, Husk because he was too drunk to be surprised and Nifty was…well, Nifty) in shock as the King of Hell blinked at them with wide wet eyes, hovering at the doors, clearly having been looking for his daughter.
“Dad!” Charlie beams at Lucifer, who smiled back. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I was just watching a re-run of My Little Duckies when the power went out. I thought it was just because I may be slightly behind on paying my electricity bill, but I see you are having the same issues.” He frowned to himself. “I need to set up a regular payment system, if even the Hotel doesn’t have electricity.”
“Oh, the Bad Boy who gives us electricity is dead!” Nifty wailed. “I liked that Bad Boy! He could fry an entire Roach family with ease!”
“Eh…?” Lucifer looked towards Vaggie.
“Vox, the Overlord who provides electricity and basically every modern luxury, is apparently dead, hence the Ring blackout.” She indicated to the rest of Pride, not very happy with the outcome.
“Huh.” Lucifer says, before frowning again, quickly checking the other six rings, and was impressed. This Box guy seemed to have done the impossible and wired all of Hell to himself. The King was impressed, considering that the Sinner was stuck in Pride, yet has managed to touch the other six rings in a way that he knew most Sinners would cream their pants to do. Despite himself, Lucifer was amazed at the 7D Chess this one Sinner has played – with Box – or was it Vox? – as the Queen. “Yeah, this is affecting all of Hell. How does one Sinner dying put us back into the dark ages?”
“No time to explain, but Dad, do you know if Vox is still alive?” Charlie asks, rubbing her forefingers together. “If so, I’d like to, politely, ask him to turn everything back on, as Princess of Hell.”
“Vox, huh?” Lucifer says before concentrating. Thankfully, he only needs to search Pride. And there he is! Vox was alive, he could see that, but the Overlord must have very strong privacy wards up, seeing as how Lucifer could only sense he was in Pride and not his exact location. “Good news! This Vox guy is alive, but bad news, he has strong enough wards that even I can’t see through.” Well, he could, but Lucifer wants to respect his citizen’s privacy, however much he doesn’t like them personally.
See, he’s growing, thanks to his little girl!
“He iS aLiVe?” Alastor asked, suddenly in Lucifer’s face. “WhErE?”
“What part of ‘wards I can’t see through’ did you not get, bellhop?” Lucifer flatly replies, pushing Alastor’s face away from his, pulling a face as red drool gets on his fingers, the Overlord salivating at the news. “Ew. Hygiene means nothing to you, doesn’t it?”
“If Vox is alive, why hasn’t he turned the lights back on?” Charlie looks over Pentagram City. “Like Angel says, the other Vee’s would not be happy.”
“Why, I’ll ask them, my dear.” Alastor suddenly says, his grin much wider and feral than before. His form ripples, turning black before falling like a water drop, travelling through the shadows.
“Well, at least the bellhop is good for something, eh, Charlie?” Lucifer says, nudging his daughter, who was staring in horror at the place Alastor was standing.
Velvette was not having a good day. First, one of her models ripped a dress that she had been working night and day over, then another cancelled because she ‘got ripped apart’ while getting caught in a gang brawl. What spineless bitches! Without Vox to turn to, she had to mentally complain to the man.
Then, just after eleven, the generators began to send out alarms. Scowling, she stomped her way into Vox’s man cave, where the cool temperature was more obvious without him running nearly four supercomputers’ together to heat up the room. She cursed when the system said that, somehow, Hell had used Vox’s stored up electricity that should have lasted a week, and the system had begun to shut off ‘non-essentials’.
Meaning that the other Rings of Hell began to lose power.
Calling Valentino to Vox’s man cave was next; the piss baby whining but complying. The moth shivered, wrapping his wings around himself into his coat, his Hell biology working against him.
“What do we do? Call back Vox?” Val asked, squinting to read as the display warns that now only the Vee district has power, more and more buildings and services being deemed as ‘non-essential’ by the computer. “But mi cariño just left!”
“What the fuuuuuuck!” Velvette screamed as the Wi-Fi was suddenly moved to the ‘non-essential’ list, feeling part of herself just cut off, something she has never felt before, since she fell when Wi-Fi had already been established in Hell by Vox, who routed everything through himself then through the fibre optics, his magic powering the Rings. “Fuck! How the Hell did we lost five days’ worth of electricity in less than two!”
Valentino stayed silent, trying to not seem suspicious, but according to Velvette, he always acts ‘sus’ when he is responsible for the current problem. To save herself a headache, Velvette mentally makes a note to tear Valentino a new asshole later, once the current problem was fixed.
Suddenly, everything flashes red, the system alerting the two Vee’s to the fact that it will be initiating hibernation and will be back online when the base-line requirement for electricity was met. The super computer’s lights turn off, with the sound of fans turning off after one last cool down gust. The loss of the subtle noises of Vox’s machines suddenly makes the room seem empty and far too big, the only sound of water from the large tanks surrounding them.
Velvette never realised how creepy Vox’s set up was.
“Well, this is not good,” Valentino comments in the pitch black, lighting his cigarette to get a light. Already, his eyes were adapting to the low uv, reflecting the light, meaning that when Velvette looks at him, all she sees is a very tall black shape with glowing eyes.
“Val,” she began in a sweet tone, staring into Val’s glowing eyes. He squinted down at her, like the dumb moth slut he was, too confused to know better that Velvette only speaks in that tone is to coax Vox to allow her to spend money on his credit cards or to slate Valentino to his face. “Would you mind tell me what you did to help drain five. Fucking. Days. Worth of electricity?”
“Me?!” Valentino tried to act innocent, but quickly gave up under Velvette’s glare. “Oh fine, I was just using the new LED screens Voxxy created for me.” The ones that were still using too much electricity to be profitable long term, or whatever Vox had described it as, warning the moth to use them sparingly.
Safe to safe, having them on for nearly twenty-five hours is not considered “sparingly”.
“Val!”
“What! You know that my art needs to just right! Valentino doesn’t dish out shitty porn.” Val argued in defence of himself.
“Art? Art?!” Velvette yells, throwing her hands up into the air, knowing that arguing with Val was like arguing with a blind wall. “Ugh, I wish Vox was here to fix your stupid mistakes! We need to look after his little V’s, or he’ll not fuck you for weeks.” Val gasps in horror, unable to even think about not having Vox’s twink body beneath his. Vox was somehow the perfect blend of a DILF and a twink, a rare but winning combo. He had muscle, but was otherwise slim and skinny, but don’t let his stick legs fool you; Vox can easily lift Vark, despite the land shark’s massive size and weight.
Velvette internally curses, knowing that she’ll have to order a few of Vox’s minions to pullout the manual water pumps, otherwise the sharks will suffocate or something like that, she’s not Shark Obsessed like the oldest Vee. She was suddenly thankful at least Vark was with Vox. If Vox came home to find out that Vivian, Vito, Valerie, Vida, Victor, Vance, and Vihaan died, he’d go past thermal nuclear, especially since he had recently thrown Vivian and Vito a Diamond Jubilee birthday party.
Demon sharks with party hats? Surprisingly cute.
“WhAt WaS tHaT aBoUt VoX?” A heavily static filled voice asked, making both Vee Overlords jump at the sudden loud voice. The shadows in Vox’s man cave moved, with a certain red deer Overlord melting out from the inky blackness, his eyes radio dials, ticking away under Vel and Val’s gaze. “WhErE iS hE?”
“Ugh, it’s you.” Val says after taking a deep breath of his cigarette, idly flicking away the ash, pink smoke subtly filling the air. Valentino didn’t need to smoke to produce it, he just found a way to make it look ‘sexy’. “What do you want with Voxy? Think he’s dead since the power went out, ha.”
“Valentino, if Alastor doesn’t kill you first, I will!” Velvette says, pointing a nail at the tall Overlord, who rolls his eyes and huffs. Velvette nodded to herself, turning her full attention to the Radio Demon. Still, if Val was acting like his dumb bimbo self, they were relatively safe. She may joke about how dumb Valentino was, but in actuality, he was anything but. Many appear to be under the appearance that Val was riding both Vox’s successful tailcoats and dick, but he was an Overlord before meeting Vox.
Plus, Val likes to be underestimated. ‘It makes my life so much easier, Babydoll.’ Val had once said to her as he cleaned his prized Moneyshot as he and Vox planned an outing that would end with Val looking like a sex crazed, power hungry Overlord. Val also loves to fall back onto his ‘passionate Latino’ roots. Stereotypical and slightly racist, yes, but this is Hell. ‘It’s true that Vox is the powerhouse of our power, but I have always liked to be the carrot to the stick. Everyone forgets the stick once they get the carrot.’ The stick being Vox and his rather ruthless methods of getting his way.
Velvette is the backbone; Vox is the powerhouse and Valentino is the distraction.
“You looking for Vox?” She snarked, raising an eyebrow. “What do you want with him?”
“Why, I just want to remind him to turn the lights back on!” Alastor says, the heavy static having receded from his voice, leaving behind his usual radio filter. “Surely it won’t take long at all.”
“Voxy’s on holiday, and he’ll stay that way for the next three and a half days.” Valentino says, his accent thinning with each word until it was suppressed, narrowing his pupilless eyes at Alastor from behind his heart shaped glasses. “It might be a short-term loss in our profits, but we’ll easily earn it back and triple it, ‘cause we’re cute like that.”
“Hell yeah we will. We’re the Vee’s.” Velvette says, and so what if they will have to shuffle some things about? They’ll get it done. “Are you just going to linger like an old fart, or can we make sure that the other V’s don’t die.” She clicks her tongue at the older Sinner, who turns his head to inspect the aquarium.
A large, dark shape passed by them, only visible because of the bioluminescence patterns, with red-pink eyes staring down at them. It was Vivian, Velvette knew, because of her size and patterns. She and Vito were the biggest, as Hell Sharks continue to grow their entire lives. Vivian, after her school patterns finished copying Vox’s, had a rounder PCBs circuit pattern overall to Vito’s strict linear patterns.
“Ah, hello Vivian!” Alastor greeted the passing shark, who flashed a warning show at the ‘intruder’.
Velvette grimaced and shot Val a look. He looked like he was sucking on a sour lemon. Alastor knew Vivian, Vito, Valerie, and Vance before his and Vox’s falling out in ’89. If the tiger shark recognised him (she did), she made her feelings known as she kept flashing at the deer Overlord in warning.
“You can leave now, Alastor, since you know Vox is alive and on holiday.” Velvette says, crossing her arms, the void where she could connect to social media starting to scratch at her. Her only comfort is that the digital realm was locked to every sinner, meaning that as soon as it was back up, she could begin to mitigate the damage.
Honestly, it was just bad luck that V left while Hell apparently decided to crank up the usage of electricity.
“Yes, but you see, my dear, I’d rather ask Vox personally. Why, it has been an age since I have last visited him!” Alastor says, tapping his cane on the floor, tilting his head as his grin grew. “So, if you would be kind to tell me where Vox is currently hiding, I’ll be out of your way.”
“Even if we did know where his vacay home is, why would we tell you?” Valentino asks as the smoke began to build, swirling around the three Overlords. “He’s on vacation, you red fucker, meaning no annoying furries to bother him.” Valentino pointed at Alastor, who didn’t react.
“Besides, you make your hatred of him clear.” Velvette says, rolling her eyes. She waited for Val to back her up, to continue mocking him, but when that doesn’t happen, she peers at Val. Val was squinting at Alastor, puffing his fancy ass cigarette in its fancy ass holder away in what Vox and Velvette like to describe as his ‘thinking very hard’ face. Then, Val’s ‘horny gaydar’ face replaced his ‘thinking very hard’ face.
Oh no, Vel thought, eyes darting between the two male Overlords.
Oh no, she internally cried when Val’s face turned to his ‘I’ve figured it out’ face. For a near blind moth, Valentino’s sight for lust and romance was second to none. It was like his superpower, if a constantly horny eleven-foot-tall moth could have a superpower. It was how he always knew that Vox needed to get bodily pried away from his Office to relax for a Vee move night before Velvette left while they still had clothes on.
“Oh please,” Val says, blowing smoke into Alastor’s face, whose eyes tighten just slightly as the smoke swirled over his face. “Don’t tell me those seven years away actually made the big bad radio demon’s heart fonder?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about, my good man.” Alastor says, eyes following the smoke that swirls around him before forming the mirage of a smiling Vox, who was talking to someone before noticing he was being watched, laughed, then winked at Alastor, a look of boyish mirth on his expressive screen. “What is this unimpressive show for?”
“Oh nothing, just that you rejected the best thing to ever fall into Hell.” Valentino says, crossing his lower set of arms while leaning his head on his right upper palm, the other idly flicking his cigarette holder, small embers falling. “Now kindly get the fuck out, unless you want to join my or Velvette’s sets? I’ll happily welcome you personally.” He leered down at Alastor, who rolled his eyes.
“I’ll find Vox, don’t you worry your empty little head about, moth.” Alastor says, releasing his cane that gets swallowed up by his magic. He clasped his arms behind his back and Velvette wonders – did Alastor pick up the mannerism from Vox, or did Vox pick it up from Alastor? He gave Vox’s surveillance room (cough mancave cough) one last glance before he melted into the shadows. The outline of his grin seemed to linger.
“Ha, that always gets prudes to leave.” Val says, accent having returned, flicking the last of the still lit ash to the floor, Vox’s army of Vromba’s eagerly cleaning the floor of the ash. They beeped in delight before returning to their stations. The pimp Overlord tucks his holder into his jeans pocket, Velvette’s magic that was threaded in with the fabric doing its job and putting the holder into his subspace.
“Well, what do we do now?” Velvette asks, placing her hands on her hips.
“Now, babydoll?” Valentino asks, turning for the door, already dreading the three flights of stairs he’ll have to walk up, especially in these heels. “Now we wait for Voxy to return. And get one of my Darling’s underlings to get the pumps. I don’t know if you are aware, but if Vox doesn’t put out, my life is over. I’ll have failed as a friend to our dear Tv sinner.”
“Ugh,” Velvette says as the mental image (and memory) of seeing the other Vee’s go at it springs to mind. She did not need to know that 1. Vox could bend that way, and 2. Valentino is a goddamn size queen enabler.
Meanwhile, everyone’s favourite red deer was fuming. Lucifer, the useless excuse of a ‘King’, doesn’t know where Vox is, the other Vee’s apparently don’t even have the curtesy to ask where Vox’s vacation house is – he froze.
Casting his mind back in memories, Alastor remembers in the summer of ’81 Vox had talked about a recently bought vacation home. He bought it in…Red Diamond Hills? Yes, that name rings a bell. He had wanted Alastor to join him on a few private trips, but Alastor had always declined his offers, uninterested in leaving his usual hunting grounds for long.
Well, past Alastor seemed to have bit present Alastor in the ass.
No matter! Alastor sends out his moppets to search Red Diamond Hills. His shadow he keeps close, as it chitters away with excitement over the hunt of the other Media demon. His shadow has always been the more visible part of his personality, much to his chagrin, and loves to catch glimpses of the other Overlord.
Vox was his dearest rival, after all. No-one else could claim that title.
No-one deserves his sole attention. No-one but Alastor. The moth and doll were inconsequential, in the grand scheme of Hell.
He manifested into his room in the Princess’ hotel and bypassed the bayou, which stretched into the far distance, a lone house barely visible in the misty backdrop. Instead, Alastor went into his bedroom, then into the side room. Alastor was a possessive man of what he considered to be ‘his’. Nifty and Husk were fine examples of this, but they had nothing on Alastor’s main fixation.
And Vox? His sweet little protégé? Oh, he was Alastor’s, since the moment the Radio Demon decided to keep the strange new sinner who was broadcasting on Alastor’s radio waves, to sink his claws, both metaphorical and rhetorical, into the man. But Alastor made a mistake, one that cost him dearly.
Inside the side room was what could be called a shrine. To whom? Vox, of course. Alastor’s main pride and joy sat on a pedestal, with a deep navy-blue cloth sitting beneath Vox’s first head. His first head was charming, thick casing with a subtle curving at the edges. His first screen was like a cornea; a protective bubble that bulges out, nothing like the flat thing that Vox has now that, while charming in its unique way, was just not the same in Alastor’s eyes.
His little protégé’s first head was just so adorable that Alastor was overcome with the case of sticky fingers.
The little room was sparse, with only a few journals, a bottle of half used Chanel Pour Monsieur cologne and a pile of letters in Vox’s neat, slightly loopy handwriting, all addressed to Alastor.
He walked over to the cologne and sprayed it, inhaling the scent that his hindbrain associates with Vox. If he closes his eyes, he could pretend that it was 1968 again, Vox practically glued to Alastor’s heels, blabbering on about his new company’s recent success, his high frequency in harmony with Alastor’s own slower, calmer one.
Conjuring an armchair and ‘The Age of Innocence’ by Edith Wharton, Alastor sat down, content to wait out the search, surrounded by the scent of his Vox.
Vox slowly woke, feeling warm and cosy. Eyes momentarily going squint and different sizes before his screen quickly refreshes, face returning to his default layout. The joys of having a screen for a face, he muses as he stretches, is that unlike other sinners, he was not limited to the physical.
Muscles stretched, Vox relaxed against Vark’s slowly rising and falling side, the shark snoring like an old person, due to the way he was constricting his airways. His gills made up for it, fluttering open with each large inhale. Vox’s own patterns briefly flashed in what he knows is his ‘happy’ light show, vent like gills fluttering in response to Vark’s own relaxed ones.
This was nice.
It would have been better if he had the other aquatic V’s with him. Sleeping in their shared aquarium that spans the entire tower and had floor to ceiling tanks in his room, his top studio floor (that hosted Vox 2 Nite) and his surveillance room, was the best. First, the sensation of weightlessness was beyond relaxing. Second, having your pet demon sharks try to lie in your lap, despite being just over half your height, like they were all pups again, was just too cute. Third, having said demon sharks lie on you, asleep, in a cuddle pile in a large built in shallow opening of a cave was the best feeling, to know that you are loved.
Everyone always seems surprised that Vox isn’t purely mechanical. He snorted, remembering the panicked screeching Velvette had when he jumped into the tank in their shared Office after becoming business partners. Vox was a blend between technology and a shark and could even breathe under water using his vent-gills, filtering the oxygen from the water, just like his pet sharks. Fitting, since in life he had been described as a one, due to his fast-moving and opportunistic tendencies, with his personal motto of being active, never getting stuck in a routine. His spirit animal that has literally shaped him after death.
(His obsession with sharks non-withstanding.)
Vox reflects technology. It’s why, despite having a Tv for a head, he isn’t just limited to them. A Tv isn’t just a Tv nowadays. It’s practically a computer itself, with multiple cores, able to connect to Wi-Fi, able to control other devices, streams music and podcasts, make video calls, and many more. Vox is a supercomputer himself, with all the bells and whistles that come with it, all safe in his chest. He must keep pace with it to properly access the full potential of his magic (which constantly grows with each new soul he collects), something he doesn’t want to get out.
Let them all think that Overlord Vox was vain, a sell-out, a slave to his audience, wanting to stay relevant, seemingly desperate to remain so. Vox will have the last laugh. Always.
One doesn’t become the puppet master by accident, after all.
Vark snorts himself awake, bringing him out of his thoughts and making Vox laugh. “Aw Vark,” he cooed as Vark yawns, showing off his gleaming sharp teeth that could easily slice sinners to shreds. “Did you have a good sleep, hmm?” He rubbed Vark’s sides aggressively, cooing as Vark rumbles in delight, feeling the slightly loose skin slide over muscle and fat. He was such a good boy, so Vox told him that.
Repeatedly.
In a baby voice.
Vark stretches, muscles rippling under his skin, like a those really buff tiger videos, where you don’t realise how muscled something is until they flex. Vark grumbles, standing, tail bobbing before he jumped from Vox’s large bed.
Vox smiles, shaking his head as he wanders into the bathroom. He quickly showered, then wiped his face with an anti-static microfiber cloth, enjoying the shine of the glass, free of any dust or oil that might linger. He smiled, hearing Vark play around in the pool, moisturising himself in the water shipped straight from Envy, because like Hell Vox was going to skimp on water for his shark babies. Before leaving, he opened his cabinet and sprayed Chanel Pour Monsieur cologne onto his neck and wrists. He has been more careful with his earth imported cologne, since he lost a bottle a few decades ago.
Finished, Vox wanders back into his bedroom and opened his wardrobe. Instead of fine suits, shirts and trousers that sinners would expect of him is soft cotton clothing in neon colours that would give Velvette a rash if she were to ever see the contents. (It happened one time and she burns your clothing, declaring that Vox will only wear the finest Velvette Designer clothes from now on or Vox can convert to being a nudist.)
Vox hemmed and hawed, looking over his options. Should he choose the navy-blue patterned shark top or the baby blue one? Choices, choices. He tapped the bottom of his face, where his chin would be, if he had one.
In the end, he went with the navy-blue shark patterned top with a light pink shark themed hoodie, with the front having the white belly of a shark and lightly stuffed dorsal fin on the back to give some volume, but not too much that it would annoy the wearer while sitting against something. The hood resembled a shark’s mouth, with felt teeth sown in around the rim. To complete the look, Vox threw on some simple (but highly expensive Velvette Designer) black jeans, with cyan thread sown on the seams, and his custom dress shoes.
Vox nodded to himself and went into the living room, where Vark was playing in his little (compared to Vee Tower’s) pool, chewing on a rubber chew toy that vaguely looked phallic. People had always compared how dog toys look like sex toys, and until Vox bought Vark, he had always rolled his eyes. Safe to say that Vark has managed to mistake a few of Valentino’s toys for his own.
Vark’s hide gleamed, all shiny and bright. His school colours were beginning to form, and until Vark’s scales darkened, they would be hard to see.
Vox wonders if Vark’s patterns will follow Vivian’s rather famous circular pattern, or Vito’s strict linear ones, or even Vihaan’s flowing, curving ones. Not to sound narcissistic, but seeing how his sharks interpret Vox’s circuit board bioluminescence patterns is always a joy.
(Vox, disconnected from any VoxTek device and with the “Do Not Disturb” setting on, has no idea that Hell has no power, since he is only wired into his vacation house and only his vacation house. (Velvette made sure of it as Valentino “helped” Vox pack.))
Right, what to do now?
On the first day, he watched anything shark related; Jaws, Jaws 2, The Meg, Meg 2: The Trench, Deep Blue Sea, The Reef, Under Plains, The Deep, you name it, Vox had watched it. Once he got bored of watching Sharks get brutally killed (unfairly, in his right opinion. So what if they killed people? Sharks were like babies; they explored the world through their mouths) and then watched documentaries about Hell Sharks. His babies were looking lonely…maybe a new sister or brother is a good idea.
The second day, Vox read books. Yes, books. Despite what some think, Vox is not against old fashioned paper, ink, thread and glue – as long as it wasn’t used for stupid, stupid things. He read the ‘Harry Potter’ series – something Velvette was raised on, and he had been meaning to read for literal years now – and then read Terry Pratchett’s ‘Enter the Discworld’ book series.
Now, the third day, Vox had decided to paint. Snapping his fingers and materialising multiple sized canvases, Vox looked towards Vark, who was in the pool and was now chewing on a yellow ring toy, he took a photo as a reference, because what else is perfection in Hell other than his pet sharks?
Vox also took the time to set up his Voxify playlist, with artists like Cab Galloway, Elvis, The Platters, Beach Boys, Tom Lehrer, The Turtles, Queen, etc, all on his personal list. The playlist was simply titled ‘great shit to listen to’ – because Vox is truly creative when naming things, but it seemed everyone was under the impression he named things ‘V-name’ on purpose and Vox will let them create that lie themselves. He doesn’t even need to lift a claw!
He had multiple others titled ‘music to get Val HORNY!!!!’, ‘Vel’s playlist – Do Not Touch Valentino!’, ‘Shark’s Favourite Music (Best Played Under Water)’ and ‘music to play around Alastor (worst songs ever made)’, the latter of which is filled with screaming dubstep all the way to that one song where the first twenty seconds were nice, then slaps you in the face with the annoying sound of mosquitos. It always makes the other Overlord so enraged when Vox acts like the shitty music was God’s gift to the earth.
Now, music selected, supplies ready, it was time to paint.
Of the three Vees, Valentino was the artist. Still, Vox also has some talent – his quick shitty drawing of Alastor non-withstanding. Wetting his brush, Vox got to work. Organics were hard for Vox to draw, which is why he never draws them. Too many curves! Give him a landscape or blueprint and he’ll have the straightest god damn lines to ever exist – without a ruler! Still, he was determined to have a portrait that he could proudly hang in his bedroom. Three hours later, Vox deemed himself done. Scribbling his name in the bottom left corner, he grinned at his painting.
The portrait of Vark stared back with wide eyes, yellow ring toy in mouth.
“Definitely going up on my wall.” He said to himself, grinning.
The Media Overlord took a break, cracking open a can of Volt and drinking it, looking for his painting subject and not immediately seeing Vark, Vox went looking for him. He couldn’t find the shark in any of the rooms, meaning there was only one place left to check. Vox snorted, finding Vark passed out on his bed, taking a nap and snoring loudly, claws idly flickering, powerful tail thumping onto the mattress to whatever dream Vark’s delightful little mind had created.
Deciding to do a landscape next, Vox looked through his memory banks. Looking through a few thousand photos, Vox finally settled on the view from the top of V Tower. From then on, it was simply maths to get the correct lines and shapes. He pressed play on his playlist and had the delightful crooning of Tony William’s in The Platter’s ‘Only You’.
Engrossed in his work and humming along to ‘Only You’, Vox misses the small shadows that crawl into his house. The shadow moppets wandered about before spying light. Knowing that all the lights were off, the moppets peeked into the room and did a celebratory dance upon seeing Vox’s back, the Overlord facing away from the doorway, internal speakers covering any noise they might have made.
“Oh, Only You can do make all this change in me,” Vox suddenly sang aloud, adding colours for the lights of the other buildings.
The moppets jumped about in excitement. Not-Creator Vox is talking about Creator! The moppets immediately leave, racing towards their Creator, who will be proud of the moppets!
Vox, oblivious and now belting out Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody, “MamaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAA, just killed a man,” has no idea what is coming his way.
Miles away, red eyes snap up, ears standing to attention as the returned moppets eagerly tell their Creator where Not-Creator Vox was. Black bleeds into red sclera, red pupils turning into radio dials, ticking away as blood runs free from Alastor’s black maw, baring his yellow teeth in a large, smug grin.
Found you, my little picture box.
Vox stepped back from his painting, biting his lip. The skyline of Pride stares back, miles and miles of different territories stare back. The bright neon’s of the Entertainment District leads to the Weapon and Morningstar Districts, leading into the Inner City that surrounded Heaven’s embassy. In the faint distance you could see Zestial, Rosie and Zeezi’s Districts.
He quickly snaps all painting supplies away in his subspace, otherwise Vox will let his perfectionist tendencies to keep adding to the painting through and thus ruining it. He is enough of an artist to know when to stop.
The painting itself was average, looking like the skyline through a filter; a natural byproduct of Vox’s skill, but he thinks it adds to the painting rather than make it look cheap. He wrote his name in the corner again in white pen, since the background was the dark greens, blues and reds of Carmilla Carmine’s Weapons District. Maybe Velvette would like the canvas, if only to say that she now technically can look out of V Tower without actually looking out the glass panes.
A cold nose sniffs at Vox’s neck, where the Tv monitor connects to his thin dark neck, tickling the cables, soft silicone and his skin. Vox turns, his large smile easily taking up most of his face as he turns to see Vark’s big face. He stared down at Vox, having angled his neck down to be eye-level, and stares with large, wet black voids of eyes.
“Aww, have I been neglecting you, hmm?” Vox asks, rubbing the bridge of Vark’s nose, feeling the wet air puff from his exhales. Vark leans back and straightens himself to his full nine-foot-tall height. Vark’s silence is betrayed by his strong tail, which was whipping back and forth like the excitable puppy he is. “Oh my poor baby, mo bhalach beag.”
Upon hearing Scots Gaelic, Vark broke like a brittle straw on a camel’s back. Vark did a sound mixed between a sneeze and exhale; a happy sound. He stood up and did very deep but low bark like noise; perfect for travelling long distances under water but sounded very weak when outside of it. Luckily, Vox can hear it as if he was under water.
“Oh, Dadaidh is sorry.” Vox says, heading towards the kitchen with a very eager shark behind him, practically standing on Vox’s heels. Vox pulls out the bowls and opens the fridge, already knowing what to grab. A slab of meat was placed in Vark’s bowl, having been freshly cut from a wild striped sea-lion the day before by Vox himself.
Having many shark babies, Vox has become very familiar with cutting up all different manners of sea life. Mostly, they hunt themselves, since the aquariums have the prey animals already in them, but sometimes the Tv demon wants to spoil his babies; feeding them delicacies or the unlucky sinner that managed to annoy him that day.
(Sometimes, he joined them in eating other sinners, but Vox would rather keep that habit to himself. He doesn’t want his image to get linked with, ugh, Alastor’s. Rosie’s? Hmm, Vox could put a spin on it, anything but that annoying old fossil.)
Vox turns his back and when he faces Vark again, he raises an eyebrow, seeing the licked clean bowl. “You are a growing boy!” He cheers, placing two more large cuts into the bowl, licking at the blood on his claws. (Being part shark himself, Vox likes his meat maybe still alive and moving, but blood was a nice treat on its own.) Summoning Vark’s collar and lead, he waits the thirty seconds it takes for Vark to eat the meat, Vark happily submitting to be collared.
“Time for walkies!” He says, walking towards the door. It was funny, seeing when Vark audibly registered the word ‘walkies’ and its associations. The shark dog ran to the door, meeting Vox, tail waggling like crazy as Vox opened the door, stepping out as the red sky of Pride greeted them.
He closed the door but didn’t bother locking; it was only Vox and Vark for the next hundred miles, since the vacation house is in the middle of the woods and at the top of the hills that earned the location its name. The ground was littered with ruby coloured diamonds, sparse enough in the red grass that it looked majestic when it caught the light, twinkling from the grass blades. He and Vark set out on the route that they have walked hundreds of times before.
Plus, Vox had strong wards set up in the perimeter, meaning that Vox has to have told them where the location of the house is to be granted entry, otherwise it would teleport the snooping sinner or Hellborn away.
Despite the ground being practically overrun with diamonds, like most things in Hell, it was not as it all appeared to be. The diamonds were volatile if removed without the proper skill and has caused massive damage from where greedy sinners and Hellborn have tried to remove them for quick cash. (Sometimes, Vox will stare out the window, drinking coffee with too much sugar and simply smirking when he sees the explosions in the distance.)
Some could be safely removed, and fetch a hefty price, with the Ars Goetia mostly wearing them as status symbols, with Vox finding the bigger the diamond the more pretentious they were. Vox himself has a necklace with a small piece of an almost orange tinted diamond, a gift from Velvette, because heaven forbid Valentino give away anything shiny. (The man was a magpie, with how much he enjoyed shiny items and keeps bejewelling his guns.)
Once they were deep in the almost black wood trees did Vox unclip Vark from his leash. Pulling a ball from subspace, he twisted his wrist, the yellow ball appearing from thin air, as if Vox was a magician. Vark’s gaze was immediately locked onto the ball. “You want it?” He asked, as Vark began to vibrate with joy, yet kept sitting, waiting for the signal. “Go get it!” Vox threw the ball, hard, sending it high and far into the air, Vark immediately chasing after the toy.
Placing his hands on his slim hips, the Tv demon didn’t have to wait long for Vark to return, a bounce in his four-legged step. He stared down at Vox with black eyes, gills heaving, drool running onto the dirt floor. If it was anyone else, to stare down a clearly excited shark dog demon that stands at nine foot tall with however much muscle Vark has and sharp teeth, they would likely be praying to be devoured quickly.
Vox simply coos, taking rapid fire photos as a drool covered ball is dropped at his feet. He didn’t have to look to know his eyes have been replaced with hearts.
This was how the rest of the walk was filled with, with Vox even wrestling with Vark near the end, each being careful to not hurt the other. Both were humming, shark instincts too engaged to not hum. Underwater, this would have been felt rather than heard, but neither minded.
Tired, yet smiling big, Vox leads Vark back into his house. They have spent nearly three hours outside. Vox knew that they both would have preferred to swim with the other V’s, but he has been banished from the Entertainment District, aka Vox’s territory, for five days. So Vox thought nothing was wrong when he opened his door, allowing Vark to enter first before himself. It was only when Vark began to growl, a true growl, deep from his chest as hissing began to get added, a truly angry noise, that gave Vox pause.
Like most animals, the louder and angrier they sound, the more likely they were trying to scare away a predator. But Vark’s species, Otodus Terradens, were the top predators in Envy’s oceans. What scared the top animal of a food chain? Why, it was something even they knew to be cautious around.
“Vark, what’s wrong- “Vox says in a soothing voice, peering around Vark’s suddenly unmoving bulk, freezing himself.
Sitting in Vox’s plush armchair was a figure clothed mainly in red, with black accents. A large golden grin greeted Vox, who could only stare at the other sinner in shock. How the fuck did Alastor manage to get past his wards?! Vox, still staring, quickly checked the weave of the wards, but they showed no signs of damages.
“What are you doing here?” Vox finally broke the silence, since Alastor seemed content to just stare, like the creep Vox knew he was. As if that was the signal he needed, Alastor gracefully jumped to his feet, walking closer, ignoring how Vark growled at him.
“Vox! My dear old pal, how great it is to see you, in the flesh, after these many years!” Alastor cheerfully says, stopping a few feet away, giving Vark a dismissive look that made Vox quickly stand in front of his pet. “Ah, I see your quirky habit of adopting pet sharks has not changed! And just who is this marvellous creature, hmm?”
“His name is Vark,” Vox answers, still wary. He ran a hand up and down Vark’s neck, soothing him, the growls getting reduced to low rumbles of warning. “What do you want? And how did you get past my wards?”
“Hmm, questions, questions. I see you have not changed in that regard, ha,” Alastor says with a sharp laugh. “You have always thought yourself so clever with your words, but let’s have a look, hmm?” Alastor wills the wards conditions, appearing almost like a contract. He scanned the page, before finding what he was looking for. “Ah, here we are. ‘The only way anyone can set foot in the grounds of the owner and caster’, that’s you,” He cheekily said, winking at Vox, who scowled in response. “’is if they have prior knowledge of said grounds or have been explicitly told the location of the property, otherwise the trespasser will be teleported one hundred miles in any direction, accepting the consequences of doing so.’”
“Oh fuck,” Vox says, because of course Vox would shoot himself in the foot like this. Only this time it has taken the bullet four decades, give or take, to land. “I told you about this house decades ago.”
“Indeed, you did, my dear picture box.” Alastor cheerfully replies, the written conditions of the wards disappearing with a wrist flick. “Powerful wards, if even the King of Hell couldn’t see past them.”
“Why did you ask Lucifer to see-?” Vox says, before he laughed, a true bark of amusement. Everything was coming together – why Alastor was truly here. It was never about Vox – when has Alastor ever cared about him? – it’s all about the services Vox provides. Because that’s all that Vox is, to most people. A service. They pay and sell their souls to have access to Vox’s magic, his electricity, to be able to connect to the internet, the 7G Wi-Fi, the lights, the entertainment! -
“What happened? Did Val slap his favourite whore around too much and the Princess cried to daddy?” Vox says, now relaxed. “I may be the leader of the Vee’s, but Valentino is a big boy,” despite himself, he couldn’t help the snort that escaped him, “in more ways than one.”
He turned and jumped, screen blighting in shock as he came face to face with Alastor. The other Overlord’s antlers have gone from small; blink and you’ll miss them antlers into a full rack, with his eyes having become radio dials, eyes black as coal.
“Still the naïve little picture box I found all those years ago,” Alastor crooned, using a hand to caress the side of Vox’s face before grasping the bottom of the panelling, Vox feeling his thumb as it dug into the screen, the pixels getting distorted for a second or so. “Makes me just want to gobble you up.”
“Don’t promise me with a good time.” Vox scoffed, slapping away Alastor’s hand. It was amusing, seeing Alastor’s face go from smooth, suave gentleman to an annoyed expression, despite his grin not leaving his face. “If not for Valentino, why are you here?” Vox asks, guiding Vark into his bedroom. With a snap of his fingers, he moved the small pool into the room, allowing Vark to calm down in the water and the darkness.
He saw Vark jump into the pool, gills fluttering before he slowly swam around. Now, he can focus on Alastor without worrying about Vark getting caught up in the middle of it. Vox can deal with Alastor ripping out his guts and using them as skipping rope; he would not tolerate any harm to his baby, and Alastor knows this, seeing as how he kept a respectful distance from Vark.
“Oh, don’t play stupid. You know why I am here.” Alastor says, inspecting his claws, yet Vox would feel his unseen gaze on him, heavy and thick.
Vox could only stare blankly at Alastor. What, does Alastor think that Vox is now a mind reader? Sure, Vox could predict what someone is doing right now, based on their VoxTek device’s history (most would be jerking it, a sad but true statistic), but that’s all. He collects data, not bullshit magic.
“Alastor, just tell me.” Vox could only sigh, unable to deal with Alastor’s bitchy behaviour.
“Hmm, I don’t think I will.” Alastor says, grin widening.
“Still a bitch, I see.” Vox rolls his eyes, ignoring as the feedback of static picked up. He hates Alastor, truly despises the man for what he did to him, and Vox can be accused of being many things: an egomaniac, obsessive and workaholic, but was not stupid.
Alastor wanted something. Vox just didn’t know what, exactly.
He seemed content to just watch Vox. Not making any snide comments, no, no. He was just staring, eyes half lidded, grin softening ever so slightly. Vox wasn’t even doing anything, just tidying up his living room. If the red furry expects Vox to act like his housewife, he has another thing coming, especially since this is his god damn house.
As always, when it comes to Alastor, Vox folds quicker than wet toilet paper.
“What do you want from me, Alastor?” Vox finally asks.
“Always so impatient,” Alastor chides, amused. “I suppose it has come to my attention that, during my sabbatical, I had plenty of time to think, my dear.” He walks over to Vox, grasping his hands, despite Vox’s half-hearted attempts to slap them away, and guides Vox into a twirl. “And do you know what I thought about most?”
“Enlighten me.” Vox rolled his eyes but went silent when Alastor pushed his face close to Vox’s, grin wide.
“You, my pretty little picture box.”
Vox frowned. “Now you’re bullshitting me. You? Thinking about me?” Especially since Alastor had been practically foaming at the mouth (who was he kidding, he was, but blood instead of foam) when Vox had shyly proposed they go into business together. It was the start of their friendship’s downfall, a slow build up with a fast-ending climax, ending with Vox truly screaming at Alastor, pixalised tears that turn physical once they ‘rolled’ off Vox’s face.
He blew his speakers out.
Alastor had simply looked bored, as Vox continued to work himself up in hysterics. It was only when Vox had screamed “I hate you, I never want to see you again!” that Alastor’s attitude had flipped. The ensuring violence leaving Vox shaking, unable to stop crying.
He truly began sobbing when Vance, ever the softie, came over, bumping into the glass separating him from Vox. Vito and Valerie quickly joined Vance, the three of them staying close by. Vivian, the oldest, tried to ram the glass, desperate to be close with her owner and father.
Alastor made it clear that he would make Vox regret saying he hated him.
“Why yes. Is that so hard to believe?” Alastor answered, raising an eyebrow. His silly little picture box. As if he’d ever let him go. He just needs to convince him that he was better off with Alastor. “I admit, perhaps I was a bit hasty with refusing your business deal, all those years ago. Why, I never told you why I refused!”
“And why was that?” Vox rolled his eyes, only to jerk in surprise as Alastor grasped his right hand, placing a kiss on his knuckles. He slowly went up Vox’s arm, pushing the pink sleeve back up to his elbow as Alastor continued to kiss his way up Vox’s arm.
“Why, I find it to be bad practice to mix business with pleasure,” Alastor leered – fucking leered! – up at Vox, turning Vox’s arm so he could press a deeper kiss onto Vox’s inner wrist. Vox blinked, because no way was Alastor kissing his way up his arm and was that fucker smelling him?!
“What are you saying,” Vox could only say in response, throat feeling dry and tongue heavy. He could feel Alastor’s frequency buzzing around his own, making it hard to think.
“What I’m saying, darling, is that I will be courting you.” Alastor says, having worked his way up to Vox’s inner elbow. Once he has ran out of skin he could gently kiss, he leaned back, pulling down Vox’s sleeve as he did so. “Isn’t this exciting?”
Vox could only make a static noise. Alastor’s soft smile was replaced by a fast-growing smug grin.
He then pulled back completely, fixing his coat. “I’ll be seeing you, my pretty picture box, hmm?” Alastor says, unable to help himself and caressing the bottom of Vox’s face, the panelling warm underneath his fingers.
Then, before Vox could ask what the other Overlord meant by that, Alastor was gone, leaving Vox standing alone in his living room like a very confused statue.
“What the fuck?” He says aloud, as if that will help him solve Alastor’s strange behaviour. Courting? Him? Ha!
…
Oh Hell, Alastor was serious.
Fuuuuuuck.
At least he had two days left of his holiday. It’s not like Hell is without power, because that would suck. ‘Relax V’, he could hear his mind’s Velvette scold, so Vox will relax.
Nothing will calm him down like watching Jaws with Vark and cuddling a BLÅHAJ he paid a pretty penny for, thanks to I.M.P.
When Vox finally returns to Vee Tower, he was not in a good mood, saving his freakout about Alastor’s request, no, demand, until he could talk to Valentino and Velvette. Hell had been without power for nearly three days – three fucking days! – and no-one thought to get in a car and drive the four-hour journey to say ‘Hey Mr. Vox, I know you were meant to be on Holiday, but can you open the connection to your generators and transformers?’ He can still power Hell while being disconnected from the internet! (He might quickly send off some emails, then might want to so some light work, then work from the house oh fuck maybe they were right to wait until he came back.)
VoxTek employees practically run out of Vox’s way. Thankfully, as if sensing Vox’s imminent return, Peppermint suddenly appears at Vox’s right elbow. Vox’s Assistant only looked slightly nervous, but that was good. It meant that not everything has gone to shit. “How bad is it?” He bites out.
“Velvette has already done damage control as soon as the Wi-Fi was up. Citizens are annoyed, but already stocks are on the rise after the 5% drop. Valentino has been hinting at a new cinematic universe, as well as Velvette promoting the latest vPhone, and that has become the new talking point online.” Peppermint immediately reports, gripping his tablet tightly.
Thank Hell for Peppermint. Best hire he ever made.
“Keep on top of the news coverage, I’ll be releasing a statement later.” Vox orders, with the Eel sinner nodding. “Vark is in the lobby; bring him into the tank on this floor, he’ll make his way up.” Conversation done, Vox zapped himself into the buildings wiring, travelling along the fibres before jumping out in his penthouse.
Immediately, his attention is drawn to a large banner in white, with pink cursive spelling out ‘It’s a Girl!’. Underneath it is Velvette and Valentino, as well as a portable tank. Despite himself, Vox could feel his irritation fade away, because if this is going the way he thinks it is…
“It’s a girl!” Vel and Val cry out, near in sync, with Velvette continuing. “V, meet your newest child; from the Rhincodon Typus family!” They gesture to the portable tank, where a small dark whale shark was swimming about.
Vox only has one thought; “Oh, she’s gorgeous!” He says, quickly walking up to the tank and dipping his claws into the water. The baby whale shark gums at his claws, curious about what was in her tank. She was sleek, scales healthy, her small eyes gleaming.
“I told you it would work.” Valentino smugly told Velvette, who used both of her hands to flip Val off.
“Oh piss off.” She snaps, then brings up her phone, livestream on. “Oi V! Congrats on the new baby! What’s her name?”
Vox is awestruck by the baby shark, to the point that his face has went pink, with red hearts overtaking his eyes entirely. “Oh, I think I’m going to call you Venus. Look at you!” He near squealed, a sound most would never expect to come out of the Media Overlord. “My little baby Venus. Val, Val, look at her!” Vox says as the newly named Venus kept gumming at his fingers. A filter feeder! Why has he never thought of this, able to solve all the problems that comes with having a multistory aquarium!
Valentino laughs. “I see her, papi. Baby number nine, hmm?”
“Welcome Venus to Vee Tower!” Velvette says, with the live stream showing Vox gently cup the squirming Venus in his claws, face now displaying just one big pulsing heart, with text like ‘Venus’, ‘Baby!!’ or ‘Shark Baby!!’ appearing in the heart, scrolling by. The recording went dark, with that last frame getting clipped and going wild on Vitter.