VR killed the Video Star*

by demon_led

Summary:

*Title edited by VoxTek Quality Control: Radio Star. Video is fine, thank you very much.
--
While the Hazbin Hotel’s residents try to figure out the angels’ next steps, Alastor faces a wholly new threat. Well, the demon and his strange glasses aren’t really a threat, if one is being realistic. Even if the wound Adam gave him is still not healing properly. Even if he had to strategically abandon yet another fight in the span of two weeks. And never would he ever think of throwing his lot in with Vox of all demons to get rid of the newcomer. That would just be ridiculous.
--
Or: There’s a new media demon in town and he’s not afraid of making enemies.

Notes:

Has it really been two years since I last posted? Damn…
This fanfic has been collecting virtual dust in my WIP folder for almost two years but in light of the recent season two announcement I thought now would be a good moment to finally post this. I hope it gets someone through the last months of waiting :)

Also: I've written the whole story already (about 40k words in total), it needs just some more minor fixes. I'll try to release one or two chapters a week from now on.
Enjoy!

Chapter 1: That fucker isn’t going anywhere

To say Alastor didn’t mind the fearful yelps and screams accompanying his walks through Pentagram City would have been incorrect. It was more than that: He revelled in them.

He would have chuckled at the thought of Charlie’s face if he ever deigned to say such things aloud, but Alastor was otherwise occupied. Because on this walk today, he heard barely anything.

One dog-headed demon jumped out of his way and dashed behind the closest trash cans. Many of the others didn’t even seem to notice him. It had only been two weeks since his last appearance, they couldn’t have just forgotten about him already.

Alastor’s eyes narrowed over his smile. Many of the demons were wearing glasses, but not the kind he had needed when he was alive, nor like the monocle that was part of his demon form. They covered the demons’ eyes completely and seemingly weren’t see-through – something Alastor had assumed a necessity for glasses. There was also a slight shimmer in the air, suggesting that the strange contraptions were connected to something via Wi-Fi. That fact alone made them flashy trash, as far as Alastor was concerned. After all, Wi-Fi was just a perverted form of his beautiful radio waves.

»So, you’re the infamous Radio Demon, huh?«

Alastor stopped dead in his tracks and turned first his head, then his body around. A tall demon leaned against a flickering street light, wearing a smug grin, a jet black tie, and a hat that also appeared to serve as a video camera, of all things. Instantly, he made himself dislikeable. His face was covered by a pair of the strange glasses, so instead of his eyes there was only the reflection of the street light.

»Do I know you?« Alastor asked, his grin sharpening.

The other demon crossed his arms. That was stupid. It would limit his reaction speed. »Nah. But I know of you. I must say, I thought you’d be taller.«

Alastor was taller than the King of Hell himself. Any height above his own was just compensation for limited skills, in his opinion. He gave no answer, instead scanning the other demon with slightly narrowed eyes. A faint trace of Wi-Fi clung to his clothes.

»I’m Metaxx.« There was no fear in his voice, or in the way he leaned against the street light. And the bravado didn’t even seem to be a facade – Alastor could usually smell the delicious fear on other demons.

»I’ve never heard that name before. You must be unimportant.«

Metaxx still made no move to uncross his arms, but he narrowed his eyes in turn. »No one told me you were arrogant.«

Radio static began to hum in the air, finally alerting the demons with the strange glasses and urging them to move farther away, even though no one actually took the contraption off.

»That you’re cavorting with angels? Sure. Heard that. That you once killed overlords with a snap of your fingers and now are basically the little princess’ little lapdog? Yeah, alright.«

»Do you have a point?« Alastor interrupted sharply. The antlers on his head were slowly growing and his form cast an eerie green glow on the side walk.

Metaxx shrugged lazily. »Wanted to see the competition. But you are a disappointment all around. I know your type. All teeth, no bite. You didn’t even sense me coming until I spoke up.«

»Wrong answer, m̵̨̟̩̐͆̋̌̊͂̀̓ỳ̵̧̛̙̿̄̇̒͆͆́̎̀͛̉͘͝ ̸̡̟̲̬̘̻͔̣͎̿͒͆̽͒̃̽͘d̶̛̤͂̈̊͊̃̀̚ḛ̷̤̗͉͖̙̥̜̪̗̅̐̉͜͜͠ͅer̶̦̬̞̠͎̈́̍̈́͆.«

Within the fraction of a second, Alastor’s carefully contained true form rose to the surface of reality, his antlers growing broad enough to span the entire width of the street, his eyes turning to ticking radio dials. Green light erupted from his shadows and ancient symbols flashed red in the darkness. Blood was running from his lips, the metallic taste sweet on his tongue. His claws dug into the street light, tearing it down, but Metaxx was gone.

»Where are you, little mouse?« Alastor’s voice was sing-songy, enticing even, if not for the fact that it consisted almost entirely of radio static. He turned his head and sniffed the air, his grin growing as sharp as his teeth. »If you didn’t want to be found,« he said, already turning, »you shouldn’t have used Wi-Fi to flee. Don’t you know that that irrelevant technology is based on my radio waves?« Claws digging into the side walk, Alastor rounded a street corner, but again, the other demon was gone.

»It’s almost sad watching you.«

The monster that had been Alastor turned around and smiled at Metaxx with too many teeth. »There you are, deer.« Prey, his stomach screamed.

»Have you really never met a demon with more control over radio waves than you?«, Metaxx asked with a raised eyebrow.

With those words, sound disappeared.

It felt like being ripped in two.

It felt like his microphone being broken by Adam’s blade of heavenly steel.

Except, this time, Alastor could feel the change inside himself, not just the loss of his powers’ amplifier. When the sound returned it was muted, only what his own ears could pick up and not the information fed to him by his thousands of radios.

Alastor hadn’t even noticed the hit, only felt the pain when he connected with the wall.

»Pathetic.« Metaxx scoffed. »How weak were the overlords that let themselves be eaten by you?«

His grin never wavering, Alastor raised his head. Fuck.

»Since you evidently didn’t realise it the moment television was invented, let me spell it out for you: Your technology is obsolete. No one listens to the radio anymore. And, starting today, no one will ever listen to one of your broadcasts again.«

The demon pulled a gun on Alastor, its tip flashing golden. The fight hadn’t even upset the order of Metaxx’ coat and tie. Alastor’s smile was strained, barely contained on his face. But, as it had in the fight with Adam, saving his life won over saving his pride. And even with his connection to the radio cut off, he still had his shadows. So he melted into them.

 

~*~

 

»Well, fuck me,« Vox said loudly.

It was a habit, scanning the security tapes for telltale traces of static that disclosed the location of the Radio Demon. He’d kept doing it, even after the failed Extermination, like he’d kept doing it for three of the seven years Alastor had been gone from Hell. But he hadn’t actually expected to find out something other than Alastor’s favourite butcher shop, something useable. Yet here it was. A blurry silhouette of static, being effortlessly beaten up by some no-name demon with green striped pants. He started recording immediately.

Vox laughed, a hand going up to his screen. »Is it my fucking birthday?« Alastor getting his ass handed to him twice in as many weeks? And this time not even by the First Man, but by demon extra #73 billion?

Of course, the Radio Demon dissolved into shadows before being finished off, but Vox actually didn’t mind that, he decided. In all his fantasies it was himself killing Alastor. He damn well deserved it after being patient all this time.

But his eyes stayed on the other demon. He looked vaguely familiar. While Vox was still judging the somewhat tacky hat, he let a background process comb through all of the Vee’s saved security camera footage from the last six months, scanning for that face. He came to the conclusion, that the other demon couldn’t have appeared in Hell much more than a month ago. »Fuck me,« he repeated.

Interesting. Already powerful enough to beat Alastor. Without his creepy microphone/staff/dildo thing, at least. Vox didn’t know to what extent the Radio Demon’s power rested in that thing but it must have been a lot if the newcomer had managed what Vox had wanted to do for years.

Still. Maybe worth looking into it. With a crackle of TV static and a zap of electricity, Vox disappeared from his control room.

He reappeared from the security camera he’d watched the fight from, clasped his hands behind his back and put on his best trust-me smile.

The other demon was leaning against a wall, seeming bored. »Took you a while.«

Vox blinked, but otherwise had too much practice to lose the smile. His internal fans started rotating a bit faster, though. »What do you mean?«

»Felt you coming through the power lines from a mile away.«

Fucking arrogant bastard. Vox’s smile grew. Being a bastard was not a deal breaker. He was working with Valentino, after all. »Such talent! I’m Vox, owner of VoxTek, I’m sure you’ve heard of me. I couldn’t help but notice your little quarrel with the Radio Demon and I must say, I’m impressed! You really kicked his ass.«

»Wasn’t very hard.«

Vox bristled. A spark of electricity danced between his antennas. But his voice stayed as friendly and harmless as a fucking puppy. »What’s your name?«

»Metaxx.«

»Metaxx. I’m always looking for promising new demons to work at V-Tower. Someone with your skills might climb the ranks fast. Who knows, you might even get a chance to become one of the Vees, if you prove yourself! After all, an M is just two upside down Vs!« It was quite a good pitch. The last bit was even improvised. Vox smiled and waited for the yes.

»Oh, a while ago, I would have jumped at the chance. Now, I think I’ll pass.«

»What?«

»I’m worth three Vs, at least.«

Vox’s smile started glitching at the corners. »Three Vs don’t make a letter,« he said in a tone that meant You better pretend that is what you were talking about.

But the other demon was either too stupid to notice, or was planning on fighting two overlords in the same day. He just shrugged. »I wasn’t talking about letters. By the way, I think just the notion of picking business partners for the letters of their first names is ridiculous. But you should go looking into Valeries. I knew one before she died. She was a real bitch; I bet she’s here somewhere.«

»I didn’t choose them because of their fucking–« Vox interrupted himself, his fans whirring as if he’d taken a deep breath, then his smile was back in place. »I can make you an overlord. Doesn’t that sound great? You’d be one of the youngest to ever get to that status. All I’d want is a little favour in return, at some later point in time.« For a moment, Vox’s screen glitched to show a nightmarish mix of metal and flesh, digital blood running from his lower lip. Then the picture was gone.

»Do you think I’d sell my soul to you?«

»I wasn’t asking for your soul.« Vox raised his hands in faux surrender. »I’m merely offering you a deal that will be beneficial for both of us.« He could still take his soul later.

Metaxx raised an eyebrow. »I don’t need you to become an overlord.« He straightened, pushing away from the wall. »In fact, I am collecting souls as we speak. And I don’t even have to go around asking people for them.« He flashed a grin full of sharp, neon green teeth.

Finally, Vox dropped his smile. »That’s not possible. Soul deals must be made in person.«

»Maybe you’re just not up-to-date on what’s possible.«

That fucker. Had Metaxx just called him outdated? »I apologize that we couldn’t come to an agreement,« Vox said in his best business person voice. The electricity under his skin began to break free and form little arches that danced over his suit. »Also, you’re going to regret your fucking insolence.«

But before he could do anything, there was a gun in his face. He had a second to register the angelic steel tip and decide that he had no desire to test if Alastor had in fact just been very weak without his microphone, or if the new demon was simply that powerful. With a sneer, Vox dissolved back into electricity.

 

~*~

 

Notes:

The picture is how I imagine Metaxx, drawn by yours truly. Hope you like it! If you did, feel free to leave a comment :)

If you'd like to see more of my Hazbin Hotel drawings, I made an animatic: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DwmhNkT21nI&list=RDDwmhNkT21nI&start_radio=1

Chapter 2: Valerie Richmont

Notes:

I think it's fitting that with my username my first two fanfics posted here should be about demons.

More Alastor and Vox coming in the next chapter (probably monday), but for now have a bit of backstory!

Six weeks ago, Earth.

»Are you fucking kidding me?«

Valerie barely glanced up from her phone and shut the car door behind her with a stiletto. »Why are you talking to me?«

»Because you are going to give me the credit I deserve! We built Z! This was our idea and you can’t just hoard all of that fame and money like the dragon you are!«

She raised an eyebrow. »A dragon, am I? Be careful. Maybe, if you get any closer, I’ll burn you.«

Don stepped closer, but she looked unimpressed. A moment later he knew why, as her driver got out of the fancy car and placed himself between them. That man had shoulders like a bodybuilder. She’d probably deceived him as well to make him work for her. Nonetheless, Don would not be intimidated. »We worked on this for years, together. How dare you tell everyone it was all your idea just when it starts to take off.«

»The only reason,« Valerie said very slowly, as if she were talking to a child, »that Z took of, is because I took over everything important. My god, you were so busy fucking all your assistants, it took you three months to notice we were writing black numbers.«

»Oh, so you betrayed me because you think I cheated on you?« That was just ridiculous. »Ever heard of an open relationship?«

»Yes. You just neglected to tell me we were in one.«

That bitch. It had taken Don two months to track her down since she’d betrayed him and kicked him out of the company, and now she didn’t even have the decency to apologize.

Valerie shook her head. »Face it, Don. I was always the brain behind this whole thing. I wrote the project documentation, as well as a good part of the code. All you did was smile for the camera and flirt with every woman who looked at you.«

»I was advertising, you fucking bitch!«

The bodyguard moved, but Valerie grabbed his arm.

»Oh, a bitch, am I? Any other creative names you want to call me? Tell me, why am I the bitch if you had affairs with, and correct me if I’m wrong, nine women in the year we were together?« She shook her head again. »Get help. I can smell the alcohol from here.«

And then she dared to turn her back on him. The bodyguard gave Don a lingering look, before he also turned and followed Valerie into the new Z building.

Don let out a scream of rage.

 

That evening, lying on a dirty couch in a dirty room, he poured all his frustration into a post on Z. It was all Valerie had left him with: an account. Not even premium. And maybe he ended that post with ›Someone should just get rid of her. Food for thought‹. Maybe there were still fans of his out there. Loyal followers who believed him when he said there would be no Z without him. That this treacherous woman couldn’t lead what was quickly becoming the most used social media app alone.

And maybe, his post was somehow connected to Valerie’s fatal car accident just a few days later. But he hadn’t killed her. There was no blood on his hands. He was a good guy, one of the last few.

Don went to the funeral. She’d apparently changed her will after spreading all her lies about him and left him exactly one cent. He was glad she was dead. But that didn’t make him guilty. And even if it did, who would judge him? God? Ha!

 

At least, that’s what he thought until – after a blurry night full of strong liquor – he woke up in Hell.

Chapter 3: Let’s fu– fight… together

Notes:

CW: some blood

Vox found Alastor walking slowly back into the direction of the hotel, not far from where he’d seen the Radio Demon’s run-in with Metaxx. Actually, calling it ›walking‹ was a euphemism on Vox’s part. It looked more like the limp of a 100-year-old human. No wonder Alastor hadn’t used his shadows to bring him directly to the hotel; he seemed weak as a newborn fawn.

A shark’s grin bright on his screen, Vox materialised directly in his path. »Shall I help you cross the street? Or are you so frail that me touching you would make you crumble?«

In no time, Alastor was his nightmare-self, sporting huge antlers and glowing like a screen at the highest brightness setting in a dark room. »If you dare touch me, I will rip off your arms and use your own claws to shred your flesh into carpaccio.«

But before Vox could wonder if he had miscalculated the other’s strength, Alastor deflated, shrinking back into his more manageable form.

And then the fucking Radio Demon tumbled. And fell.

Vox blinked, twice, then swallowed as he suddenly got very aware of the relative positions of Alastor and himself. Or, in other words: The fucking Radio Demon was kneeling in fucking front of him.

»Well, fuck me,« Vox said, yet again.

»Ha! In your dreams.« Despite his condition, Alastor’s tone was as spiteful as Vox had ever heard him. The Radio Demon tried to get up, failed. Vox kept watching him intently, wishing very much to be able to record this. He wouldn’t have traded his soul for the opportunity, but it was a close thing.

»What do you want?« Alastor finally rasped, voice not very staticy at all for some reason.

Oh, so many things, Vox thought, his claws twitching into the direction of Alastor’s face. Many of them were related to the way Alastor was kneeling before him.

»Take a picture, old pal, it’ll last longer.« Alastor actually managed to get to his feet, albeit shakily. »Oh, wait. You can’t.«

»Fuck you, prick,« Vox snarled.

»Eloquent as ever, my dear.« Alastor made to just walk past him as if nothing had happened.

As if Vox wasn’t even worth the time and effort to shove him out of the way. He skilfully ignored the painful twinge in his chest. Fuck being civil.

In a flash of electricity he appeared directly in front of Alastor again, grabbing his hair and bringing their faces close despite the other’s dangerous sneer. The sudden contact did things to Vox’s body he didn’t want to examine further, like switching the fans of his cooling system to the highest setting. He hated Alastor, so much. That was why his biomechanical excuse of a heart was racing.

Something did manage to distract him, though: a warm wetness where his left hand had grabbed the Radio Demon’s stupid coat. Granted, he hadn’t been very careful to keep his claws to himself, but that still didn’t warrant the amount of blood coating his fingers. »Wow. That random demon guy got you good.«

»Still stalking me, I see.« Alastor cocked his head, grin sharpening until it could’ve cut Lucifer himself. »And yet you don’t learn a thing. Maybe that’s why your pretentious little empire crumbled after just one broadcast from me.«

»Fuck you! It didn’t crumble. Blackouts happen.« Vox shook his head, trying very hard not to just forget his reasons for coming here and burying his claws deep enough in Alastor’s chest to feel his beating heart. Then he stilled and a grin spread over his face, wide enough that he knew parts would clip out of the screen. »Ohh, you’re in deep shit.«

»Whatever do you mean?« Alastor asked calmly. There was a red cross glimmering faintly on his forehead and stitches at the corners of his mouth.

»Me. This.« Vox’s claws tightened in Alastor’s hair and the other demon hissed, but still didn’t attempt to free himself. »You hate me.« He was stating a fact. The slight glitch of his voice was entirely unrelated. »That means, normally, you would’ve eaten my hand for grabbing you like this. The fact that you didn’t means that you can’t. And if you can’t, that means you’re weak as shit right now.«

Alastor’s eyes narrowed. »Aren’t you clever. Are you saying you would only be able to restrain a ›weak as shit‹ demon?«

»Uh, fuck you, again. I meant relatively weak.« Vox let go of the other demon, if only to give his cooling system a small reprieve. There was already a warning blinking in the corner of his screen. »I’m saying you would’ve at least tried, asshole. But apparently you’re too fucked up even for that.«

The Radio Demon, now standing without support once again, was shaking slightly. But even with his voice not showing any of that weakness, the expected static was still missing. »Who says I’m not just refraining from wasting my time on a fight with a glorified vPad?«

Vox grit his teeth hard. If they had been real and not a projection on his screen, they would surely have made a very uncomfortable noise. »Because you never missed an opportunity to push me down in the past. You interrupted my broadcast when you came back, you started a public fight when I asked you to join me–,« still a source of many bursts of temper, that one, »even when we were supposed friends you never let me forget that you’re older and own more souls; do I need to go on?«

But Alastor didn’t seem to have listened to any of that. His eyes fluttered closed and he tilted to the side. Vox reflexively stepped up to catch him, immediately cursing himself. His eyes lowered from Alastor’s – despite the grin – surprisingly gentle looking face to his chest. By now blood had seeped through the several layers of clothing.

Vox sighed. »Idiot,« he mumbled, unfortunately meaning himself.

He gave the demon passing on the other side of the street a hypnotising glance with the order to forget all of today, then he pulled Alastor through the nearest security camera and into the electrical grid of Pentagram City.

 

~*~

 

Alastor’s eyes shot open, his shadow springing to life by his side, tentacles of pure darkness lashing out at his surroundings. He didn’t know this room with the gentle blue light and metallic surfaces, nor the surprisingly comfortable couch he was lying on. One of his enemies must have used his inattention to their advantage.

Then he noticed that his hands weren’t restrained in any way. There was no angelic rope, not even zip ties. He sat up and was immediately reminded of the reason for his blackout, as delicious pain shot through his chest. It was strong enough to almost numb his arms and the tentacles shivered and drew back into the void until they were no longer than his fingers.

»Yeah, sure,« a dry voice said. »I bring you here so you don’t bleed out on the street in front of everyone and you destroy my furniture. Seems fair.«

Alastor whipped his head around, ignoring the new pain stabbing through the slow pulses of the old. »Vox. I should have known a pathetic wannabe like you would use my moment of improvidence to his advantage.«

The TV Demon laughed. »Improvidence? You were fucking unconscious.« Then he crossed his arms. »And how am I using it to my advantage, currently?«

»Hm.« Alastor’s eyes scanned his surroundings. It was clearly a living room, spacious and filled with modern furniture – some of it broken and bent on the floor. A soft looking carpet lay beneath the pieces and one wall was entirely made of glass. The room behind was filled with water, a glowing shark swimming in slow circles. It was certainly not the torture chamber he had expected. »Who knows what plans are brewing in that square little box of yours.«

Vox started to reply something, however, Alastor ignored him. It had just occurred to him that he could hear. Not the unimportant things the TV was drivelling on about. Not what his own ears could detect at all, no. He could feel the radio waves in all of Pentagram City, could concentrate on them and pick out single connections. Whatever Metaxx had done to him, it seemed to have been temporary.

He was ripped from his thoughts by Vox actually throwing a cushion at him. Alastor blinked. »That was a tad childish, don’t you think?« Also, it had hurt, even though the other demon clearly hadn’t aimed at his chest.

»Yeah, well, so is ignoring people on purpose when they are fucking talking directly to you.« Vox crossed his arms again. »Now undress.«

»You want me to do what now?« Alastor asked very, very calmly. There was a green glow reflecting off of Vox’s screen. The TV Demon was starting to look a little nervous. Good.

Still, he made a valiant effort to hide the tension in his body, only his expressive face betraying him. »You are currently bleeding all over my couch – I’ll have to have someone replace that, by the way, not that you care.« Alastor, in fact, did not care about Vox’s living room furniture. »And you’re not that hurt by one punch from some random demon that isn’t even an overlord, so I can only assume that wound is a little souvenir from your fight with Adam, from before your hotel’s help eliminated him, ergo it was done by heavenly steel. Ergo, you won’t heal on your own, and haven’t in the last two weeks, so you need medical attention or you will die for real. So take off your fucking clothes, so I can have a look at it.«

Alastor’s eyes narrowed as his grin widened dangerously. »You should be delighted by that fact. Why would you ever help me?« The other demon had to be planning something, but there was no obvious trap and Alastor didn’t believe Vox was capable of a scheme that he couldn’t figure out in a matter of minutes.

Vox spread his arms in clear annoyance. »I want to kill you myself! The Radio Demon bleeding out on my fucking couch is a bit anti-climactic, isn’t it?«

»You can’t beat me at my full strength,« Alastor declared matter-of-factly. »And I’m not just your – as you say – ›arch-nemesis‹, I’m also your rival, stealing souls that could have been yours. Not getting rid of me when you have the chance is, frankly, uncharacteristically stupid, even for you.«

»There is no chance that you will let me stitch you up before I expose the entirety of my motivation, is there?« Vox asked, sounding a bit tired. His screen had dimmed as well.

Alastor wanted to clasp his hands behind his back, decided against it, and settled for cocking his head to the side. »No.«

Vox sighed, then went to grab the cushion he had thrown at Alastor and with it, sat on the floor in front of the couch. »That demon that confronted you. I looked him up more thoroughly while you were out. He has been in Hell for only five weeks and already owns hundreds of souls. He seems to control them with those glasses that started popping up everywhere, connecting them all through my Wi-Fi–« Vox’s voice glitched as his rage very literally brightened the expression on his screen. »Well, I haven’t found out yet how he actually makes this many deals, or what exactly the glasses are for. But he is growing very powerful, very fast.«

Amusement coursed through Alastor. »You need my help getting rid of him, because you’re scared he’s stronger than you. What, has he declined to join the Vees?« The TV Demon’s face told him everything he needed to know. Alastor laughed until his chest hurt too much to continue. He could feel fresh blood flowing out of the wound. »Maybe you should reconsider your recruitment tactics if you can only draw in demons weaker than yourself,« Alastor advised through his slowly subsiding chuckles.

»You are an arrogant asshole,« Vox said uncharacteristically quietly. »And you are still ruining my couch.«

With only a slight wavering of his smile, Alastor rose. »Well then, it would be impolite of me to stretch the limits of your hospitality.« He curled his claws, making sure his control over his shadows was strong enough to get him out of the building at least. It just wouldn’t do to try, only to land in Vox’s hallway, still in sight of the many security cameras.

Vox gaped up at him, looking less like a shark and more like a fish. »You’re leaving?«

»That does seem to be the case.«

»What about anything I just told you and also the fucking hole in your chest?«

Alastor inspected his claws in feigned boredom. »I’m sure the next time that demon shows up, I will be ready to handle him on my own. As for the bleeding, I survived the fresh wound two weeks ago without you playing nurse, so I will be just fine.«

»You are so proud it loops back into stupidity,« Vox said, expression slowly morphing into an incredulous grin. »How did I never see that when we were– before you left?« He stood. »You know, you could always just tell little Miss Morningstar. I bet one snap of her fingers would get rid of Metaxx. But you’re not going to do that, are you? Neither will you ask her to heal your wound, if she can do such a thing.«

»As I said ,« Alastor repeated, static almost drowning out his words, » the next time I see any of my enemies, I will be able to deal with them, permanently, on my own.« The only reason he didn’t make good on his threat right now was that it would be rather impolite to do so in Vox’s own home, when the other demon hadn’t even attacked him first. Alastor might be a cannibalistic serial killer, but he still had manners.

Vox was staring at him with an, for once, unreadable expression. »Fuck you!« he said finally. »I– Next time he beats your ass, I will just let you bleed out.« He kicked the pillow away from his feet. »And you owe me a couch.«

Alastor chuckled. »Sure,« he said in a tone that meant I still do not care about your furniture and I will not be getting you a new couch just because you thought it a good idea to put a bleeding demon on your old one. He wasn’t sure the one word conveyed the entirety of his meaning, but that didn’t really matter. Missing his microphone to put his hands on, he turned away from the other demon. »Goodbye, Vox. Keep out of my way, will you? We wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself in public like you did last time.«

»I hate you so much.«

Alastor grinned. »I wouldn’t have it any other way.«

His shadows enveloped him, dissolving his form until only a pair of glowing eyes shone from the unnatural darkness, then he was gone from V-Tower. He made it at least halfway to the hotel before his strength left him. Like hell did he need Vox of all demons to take care of him; he was clearly fine.

Notes:

Alastor is fine. He's fine.

Chapter 4: Kindred souls

Notes:

That the demon with the TV for a head won the election for hottest character in the fandom still amazes me and yet I kind of agree…?

Next chapter will feature the Hazbin Hotel residents!

Five weeks ago.

It was the first face he saw in Hell, because it was everywhere: on screens, on posters, in magazines.

›How Hell’s Hottest Handyman handles his Enhancements: Why you, too, should be better‹

›Overlord Vox, what’s his secret? No, seriously, we wanna know‹

›Keep up to date with VoxNews: Trust us with your informational bias‹

The new demon sat up and rubbed his head. His memories were fuzzy at best. He wasn’t even sure what his own name was. What he knew, though, was that he was in Hell. There were no fires in his immediate vicinity, but the temperature was unbearably high, the air hot and cloying and stinking of something decayed.

But in all this terrible newness, the face in the TV seemed familiar. He didn’t know the guy with cyan claws, but he saw himself in the self-assured smile. This was a business man. A winner.

The new demon stood up. He would find the building on the magazine cover, the one with the three big Vs, and he would become a part of this empire. Many of his memories might have barely survived his death, but his desire shone crystal clear through the haze. He had to get what was rightfully his: Fame. Recognition. Money. All of it. His own media monopoly.

 

He picked the name after careful consideration. Hell was a new start, after all, he didn’t want to ruin that with something as non-threatening as ›Alex‹ or ›John‹. Metaxx would show the other demons he meant business.

And so he’d pressed through the line of reporters, gotten to the front row. They were all watching the elevator, waiting.

When Vox stepped out, there were cheers. Several of the reporters started screaming questions at once. Vox smiled and raised a hand in greeting before stepping up. His eyes went right over Metaxx, unseeing.

Well, lacking determination had never been an issue of his. Metaxx stepped between Vox and the reporter the TV Demon had chosen to talk to first and reached out his hand. »Mr. Vox! I’ve got an idea how you could grow your empire, with my help. We are kindred souls, you and I. We will work together perfectly. I’m–«

»Very honoured to meet me, I’m sure,« Vox finished his sentence and shook his hand for a second. There was a field of static surrounding him, the threat of powerful currents running just beneath his skin. »All requests for collaboration go through my secretary, but I’m certain your idea is genius. It will land on my desk in no time! «

Before Metaxx could reply, Vox was shaking the next demon’s hand and answering questions. He didn’t try talking to the TV Demon again. The overlord wasn’t taking the time to hear out just anyone. Fine. That was fine, because it was smart. Most people were stupid after all, the same would be the case for demons. Metaxx would just have to prove what he was able to do.

The same day he finished his first VR glasses. The letters stood for virtual reality, obviously, but he couldn’t help but feel amused at the double meaning: After all, without Valerie Richmont, he likely wouldn’t be here at all. It was only fair that after her taking everything from him, he would steal her initials for his new empire. Yeah, he remembered his hat red for her, too.

Notes:

I love writing characters from an outside perspective (Alastor doesn't count because he rarely sees Vox as anything other than pathetic)

Chapter 5: Team meeting

Notes:

Valentino appears in this chapter, but he's not doing much

Lucifer was staring at him. He was staring so hard that Alastor imagined his eyes popping right out of their sockets and falling on the table. What a nice picture that was. Alas, he was not so lucky as to witness the King of Hell’s spontaneous loss of sight, only yet another drawing Charlie put up on the little board behind her. It showed several crudely drawn exterminators, surrounding an angel with only one arm. Alastor didn’t know who that was supposed to be, only that he would not ask and reveal that little shortcoming.

Charlie lightly slapped his shoulder. »And since Adam is gone, even when the angels come back, Alastor can just make one of his shield thingies again, separating a number of them that we can overpower.«

He suppressed a wince at the pain the little movement sent flashing through his chest.

Lucifer sat up. »Even without Alastor, we don’t have to worry. I’m here now, after all. Adam could come back himself and I’d just fuck him again.«

Angel raised both eyebrows from where he was sprawled over an entire couch, Husk half-sitting on the side rest.

Charlie exchanged a quick glance with Vaggie, then turned back to her father. »Uhm, dad, maybe you don’t remember because it was in the middle of a battle and all but it’s… it’s still to ›fuck up‹, not just…« She trailed off. »How about tomorrow we spend a part of our exercise time to learn how to use slang?« Vaggie gave her an encouraging thumbs up. »It could be an exciting opportunity for Angel to lead a lesson!«

»Sure.« Angel grinned. »I could teach the King of Hell some stuff ‘bout fuckin’.«

Husk rolled his eyes.

Alastor decided that this was his cue and stood, ignoring the pain. »I’m sure we will be fine, dear Charlie. After all, I’m still protecting the hotel. But I fear that as long as we don’t know what exactly the angels are planning, all we can do is prepare for the worst and wait. No reason to look all that glum!« he added cheerfully.

»Not like your protection stopped Adam from destroying the old hotel,« Lucifer mumbled.

Magnanimous as he was, Alastor ignored the comment. Lucifer hadn’t even been there for most of the fight, but also present when Adam levelled the building. He was one to talk.

But the fact remained, the angels weren’t his priority right now. He’d sworn to himself to find a way out of his deal before his involvement with Charlie led him to an early second grave. He would find a solution, but to do that he needed his full focus. And that meant a new amplifier for his power. Problem was, he’d woken up in Hell with his microphone in hand. He wasn’t even sure it was replaceable.

»Alastor? Al, are you alright?« Charlie was looking at him all worried. One should think always wearing a smile would distract people from thoughtful expressions.

»Of course, my dear! Everything’s nifty!«

Niffty looked up at that. »Not yet!« She didn’t seem to require an answer and scurried off after a bug.

»Uhm… right,« Charlie said, then shook her head at herself. »Alright, I trust you. But you know, Al, that if you want to talk about something – anything! – you can come to me, right?«

The edges of his smile almost softened involuntarily. »I’ll make sure to do just that if I discover any feelings in myself to discuss!«

»Pretend you don’ like us all ya want, Smiles,« Angel called from his sofa. »I can see right through ya.« Husk next to him didn’t look convinced. He knew better.

Alastor didn’t bother saying anything else. He just disappeared from the hotel lobby and reappeared in his room right below the radio tower, as far away from Lucifer’s dwelling as was possible without leaving the premises.

He hated how he immediately deflated, hand going to his chest where he could feel fresh blood slowly soaking the bandages. It wasn’t even that he minded the pain. Pain was making sure he paid attention; it was invigorating. No, he despised the weakness that came with a wound such as this. A sinner’s soul like him should have been invincible. He had survived worse wounds in his days of battling real overlords, far stronger than the likes of Vox. Cursed angelic steel.

Alastor wanted Adam to be alive, only to be able to rip him apart himself. He wanted to cut the First Man up and see if the quality of human meat had risen or declined since Eden. The blood of an exterminator was already delicious, but Adam had been both angel and former human.

Alas, it was useless to think about. Alastor shed his clothes, baring his chest, and glared at the spreading red on his bandages.

Vox had pretended to want to help him. Faintly, Alastor wondered if the other overlord actually had the resources, or the knowledge, to treat an angelic wound. He cocked his head. Surely there had been some kind of trap in Vox’s words, but what if he made his own conditions? What if he managed to spring a trap of his own, to forge a deal? As loathe as he was to admit, Vox wasn’t not powerful. His soul would probably do a great deal to help with Alastor’s recovery. Or, if it didn’t, Alastor could still eat him.

And then, when his strength came back, he would deal with the arrogant newcomer and get another microphone. The puzzle pieces were slowly starting to align and fate would sooner or later place its strings in his hands. Alastor laughed loudly, until his wound turned the sound into laboured breathing. Still, the waves of pain were better than the ever present weight of an invisible chain around his neck.

 

~*~

 

»You look particularly miserable today, Voxy.« Valentino didn’t sound very empathetic.

Vox glanced at him over the edge of his vPhone. »Go fuck yourself.«

»Why go anywhere? We can do it right here, amorcito.«

»One meal!« Velvette rose from her chair, pushing her plate away from her. »One meal without me wanting to vomit into your stupid hats is all I ask for.« She hesitated. »You know, Val’s right though, V. What’s with your mood today? Far as my Sinstagram is telling me, Love Always Lies, Idiot is a complete success.«

»All my new TV series are a success,« Vox mumbled, »because my viewers are basically all hypnotized.« He scrolled to another security feed showing the hotel. Still nothing. Three days and still nothing. Not even a flicker of distortion in any of the videos he’d looked over. Instead more and more demons showing up with those weird glasses and empty expressions. He’d thought Alastor might change his mind. How foolish.

»Vox?« Velvette probed.

»I’m f̵̨͐i̴͕̒ṋ̸̚è̴̬,« Vox snarled, voice distorted.

»Geez, sorry for asking.« Velvette tossed one of her braids over her shoulder in a flick Vox had seen her practice for two weeks in front of every mirror she passed. »I’m off, then. Later, losers.«

Valentino crossed his lower pair of arms, one of the upper hands holding a long cigarette. »You need some stress relief, amorcito?«

Vox started to decline, then stopped himself. Why the fuck not. He’d have some fun, clear his head, then find a way to get rid of Metaxx that didn’t involve arrogant asshole radio demons. Not like he’d never overpowered another overlord before. Vox put down his phone, shark grin almost clipping out of his screen. »Why, I thought you’d never ask.«

»I literally made the same offer two minutes ago,« Valentino said flatly, but he quickly mirrored the broad grin when Vox rounded the table corner and let one of his claws tip up Val’s head. »I know just the thing, babe. There’s this new toy from Lust I haven’t tried yet. You can test it on me and if you’re a good boy, maybe I’ll get you off too.« Valentino leaned in to kiss Vox and almost fell from his chair when his arms gripped only air. »What the fuck?«

Vox stood at the other side of the table in front of the floor length window, one hand clutching a corner of his screen. Electricity crackled between his antennas and sparked from his claws. »You’ll have to go fuck yourself after all. Something came up,« he said in a strangled voice.

Valentino threw his hands up into the air. »You and your fucking moods, I can’t put up with this shit any longer. I’ll go look for inspiration.« That just meant he’d disappear into his rooms and watch porn. At least that would keep him busy.

»You fucker,« Vox whispered, now alone in the spacious dining room. Alastor had hijacked one of his channels. Instead of Love Always Lies, Idiot it was now playing the same message over and over again: Come meet me.

He hated the way his heart sped up at that.

Notes:

You know something is wrong when Alastor doesn't argue with Lucifer even though he has the perfect comeback

Chapter 6: Never find an old recording of your heroes

Notes:

What does it say about Alastor and Metaxx that Vox's pov is the least unreliable narrator?

Two and a half weeks ago.

It was an obsession, collecting every bit of information he could find on Vox: what clubs he liked to frequent, which people he fucked, who he seemed to be, if not friends, then at least friendly with.

At the same time, Metaxx continued to build his empire, one pair of glasses at a time. The first version he kept, but the second he sold to a demon looking dead drunk. The third he pretended to lose to a woman while gambling. Their souls were his in hours. Word spread. Of course, there were already video games, but nothing could compare to his VR world he kept expanding.

He almost got to the point where he was confident Vox wouldn’t ignore him again. In just a few days he could go back to V-Tower, with enough souls under contract to warrant some respect for the ideas he could bring to the table.

Then one of his merchant contacts hit him up. Told him he had something on Vox that could be found nowhere else. It would cost Metaxx, sure, but this info was one of a kind.

Naturally, Metaxx killed the snail-faced demon. All he got for his trouble was a tape. No file in a cloud, not even a DVD, but a videotape, just a black strip of whatever it was. It took him hours to find a machine capable of playing the thing.

His annoyance dissolved when he finally watched it. It was video footage recorded by hand, judging by the shakiness, around the corner of a house. There was Vox, but it wasn’t the overlord Metaxx had met, not the demon with an aura of power and danger surrounding him. This was a broken machine.

Vox’s outdated suit was ripped, one of his cyan claw missing. Bright blood stained the white shirt he wore and the clunky old TV’s screen was cracked and splintered in several places. Also, he was barely staying on his feet, swaying in a crater in the ground. A red distorted shape stood above him on the rubble.

»Alastor,« Vox rasped. Was that… desperation in his voice? His face certainly looked desperate. And pained, in more than a physical sense.

»You’re pathetic, Vox. My answer remains no. I’ll not be part of your little scheme.«

Vox’s expression hardened. »You never did see me as an equal, did you?«

With a laugh, the distorted shape moved away. »Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous!«

»Finish it, then!«

A green glow filled the grainy video. »I don’t take orders from you, Vox.« With that, the shape disappeared.

Vox sank to his knees as if the last of his strength had left him. Something like a distorted sob sounded from his speakers.

The demon holding the camera drew back behind the corner. The video ended.

Metaxx stared. Oh. Oh, that was just the most pathetic thing he had ever seen! Vox, almost begging on his knees? That wasn’t a demon who could defend his empire. It would be taken from him by a lying, scheming bitch and then Vox would be an outcast, forced to drown his misery in alcohol. Die alone.

That was not someone Metaxx could see himself in.

He got why the other demon had deleted every trace of this event from the internet. Unfortunately for him, he’d been too incompetent to get his hands on this tape, and now Metaxx knew how weak he really was.

If it was that easy to beat Vox, he would. He could. The VR world was growing with every soul he owned, making him more and more powerful. The TV Demon would not get his invention. Instead, Metaxx would build his own empire. Right after making sure the distorted shape wouldn’t become a problem.

Notes:

I felt sorry for Vox writing this. I really hope we get their canon backstory in season 2

Chapter 7: The enemy of my enemy is a prick

»A friend!« the Princess of Hell squealed in a decidedly not-princess-like manner. »Are you here to stay at the hotel?« There was so much hope in her eyes, it was ridiculous.

Vox made a face. »Uh, no.«

»Oh.« Her excitement dimmed somewhat, then came back in full force. »Excuse my asking, but you’re Mr. Vox, right? The owner of VoxTek?«

Who the fuck else would he be? But Vox was nothing if not practised at keeping up a friendly appearance in public. »The very same. I’m honoured you’ve heard of me, princess.«

»Oh, Charlie is fine! No need for formalities. Anywaaay, I was thinking, with control over like, all of TV in Hell, you would be the perfect person to advertise for the Hazbin Hotel! I mean, I was on the News a few times but they only show… some things. They never really make us look good, you know? And our ad was interrupted before it could start. SoooOo…« She was practically jumping with giddy excitement.

»Vox.«

Charlie whirled around. »There you are! Your friend is here.« If there was a demon in Hell able to speak with emojis, it was this one. Vox could practically see the golden sparkle one that Velvette used sometimes trailing after Charlie’s words.

»Alastor,« Vox replied, trying to keep the strain out of his voice and his grin from glitching.

They stared at each other.

Charlie’s eyes went back and forth, her expression turning into one of quiet confusion. »Okaaay,« she said finally, the word drawn out. »I will go do… hotel… stuff.« With that she dashed away like a deer in front of a predator.

Vox’s grin widened, shark teeth glowing with artificial light that brightened the door frame. »So. Your message couldn’t have been more cryptic.«

»You’re here, aren’t you?« Alastor replied calmly, his smile unreadable. »Here, at the front door.«

»Where the fuck else was I supposed to go? You secured the whole place against unauthorized entry! I’m not gonna stand under your window and throw a fucking stone at it like some lovesick fool in a romantic drama.«

Alastor cocked his head. »Aren’t you?«

Vox’s composure wavered precariously, and his left eye began to pulse.

There was a noise of someone spitting out a drink inside the hotel. Over Alastor’s shoulder Vox could see Valentino’s favourite whore, holding a glass and staring at him. »What are you doin’ here? Smiles, what is he doin’ here?« Angel narrowed his eyes. »Did Val send you? I’m still not moving back to his studio.«

Vox crossed his arms. »I don’t care about you or what you do.«

»Now now.« Alastor’s smile carried a hint of something dangerous. »That’s not a polite thing to say to one of our residents.«

Vox honestly couldn’t tell if he meant it. Did the big bad Radio Demon actually like these fuckers?

»You can rest assured, Angel. Vox is here because I invited him and he knows that if he takes one step into the wrong direction, I will ě̶̬̂n̸͚̭̉d̶̩̅̍͋ him.«

Could you even? Vox thought but didn’t say. »Enough foreplay. What do you want?«

Alastor didn’t reply. Instead he reached out a hand and pulled Vox into the shadows with him.

That was a new one. Vox hated it. When they rematerialized everything kept spinning and he was pretty sure some of the shadows were still writhing in the gaps of his wiring. He’d never vomited since coming to Hell. Now it felt as if he was actually still capable of it. But he’d never do so in front of the Radio Demon.

Alastor was watching him with clear amusement. There was a strain to his expression, however, that made Vox forget his nausea. Weakness, his overlord senses told him. He projected a grin to his screen. »My my, did you overexert yourself?«

»Don’t worry, old pal. I still have enough strength left to handle you!« Alastor said cheerfully.

Vox crossed his arms. »Last time we met you told me you’d ›handle‹ me when you saw me again. Now you order me to your room like I’m some fucking escort. What do you want from me?«

»You were right.«

The screeching of TV feedback cut through the air, Vox’s screen glitching violently, his sight going in and out of focus. He was sure several error messages were flashing on his screen and a little pop-up in the corner told him to cool down because his fans apparently couldn’t keep up. »Ē͇̠̻̲̤̞̃ẍ̣͓̳͎͇̙́̋̇̕̕͝c̫̪͙̅̀̈́̕ù͇̼̘̟̊s̻̼̖͓̅̒͆ḙ̛̠͕͕̰̹͗̂͘ ͙̰̹̼͐ḿ̻̣͖̦̂e͍̅̉̏̈́͘?̼͉͈̹̝̝̎̔̚«

»I am not going to repeat that.«

Vox struggled to regain a modicum of control over his systems, taking his time with an answer until he knew his voice wouldn’t be distorted beyond recognition. »Right about what?«

»I should help you get rid of Metaxx.«

»You’re just going to admit that,« Vox said flatly, unable to make the words sound like an actual question.

»Why, I think it would make me a rather bad sport to be unable to admit when I was wrong.« Alastor cocked his head.

Vox narrowed his eyes. »Yeah, no, I’ve never heard you concede to being wrong, not once.«

»Well, usually I’m not wrong!«

»There it is.« With a deep exhale Vox sank down into one of two chairs that stood next to a small table. One background process – they were called daemons, wasn’t that ironic? – helpfully kept reminding him of the swirling nausea. »I– Uh, what are you doing?« There were little alarm bells ringing somewhere in his head but they were far overpowered by the massive train of incoherent thoughts running through his mind. Because Alastor had taken off his coat, folding it neatly and placing it on a couch. He’d never taken off his coat before. For him this was basically a strip tease. Vox blinked. »What the fuck?«

»Use your words, my dear.«

»What – and I mean this in the strongest possible way – the fuck are you doing?«

The Radio Demon sauntered closer. »Well, I’m offering you a favour, of course! Since you seem so keen on getting my help to get rid of that new demon before he gets rid of your inconsequential little empire.« He was really fucking close now, bowing down at the waist a bit so they were at eye level despite Vox sitting down.

Warnings flashed before him, both metaphorical and literal ones. Against his will, Vox’s eyes lowered to Alastor’s lips. He wondered faintly how the other demon would taste. Then, if he’d literally bite his head off for trying to kiss him. And finally, if he was really this fucking stupid.

Alastor’s hand rested on the chair’s armrest, very close to Vox’s claws. »What say you, my dear?«

»I, uh–« He wasn’t sure if there was a tiny remnant of his logical thinking skills still somewhere active in his head, or if one of his sensors picked up some sort of sign. But before Vox could make the stupidest decision of his life, he realised what had set off his warning bells: There’d been no word of working together. Alastor had phrased getting rid of Metaxx as a favour to Vox. And a favour meant…

Vox jumped up and almost stumbled in the attempt to put as much distance as possible between himself and the Radio Demon. »Ohhh, nonononono. No. Fuck no. I’m not making a fucking deal for my soul, you conniving, scheming, motherfucking bastard.« He was actually shaking a little at the realisation of what he’d almost done. It felt a bit like crashing after a high.

With no more than a slight shrug Alastor straightened, inspecting his claws. He seemed unaffected by any of this, even as Vox’s heart was still pumping wildly, and not just because of the shock of almost selling his soul. »You seemed like the type of demon that would fall for one of Angel Dust’s tactics.«

»Were you actually trying to seduce me? By taking off only your coat?« Had it actually almost worked? What was wrong with him?

(Excluding the obvious.)

»If you must call it that.« Alastor met his eyes, shrugged again. »It wasn’t even personal, chum. Just a way of regaining strength faster after… my temporary lapse.« He seemed completely indifferent. As if it hadn’t been personal. Why did that feel worse?

Vox threw his arms up. »I already offered to help with that! Some of the shit we got lying around has to be able to help with angelic wounds. And we got trauma surgeons, and hospitals and…« He trailed off. »Fuck you, seriously.«

Alastor retrieved his coat and put it back on. Probably the first time Vox was happy to see someone dressing instead of undressing. »I can’t help but notice that you seem to take this personally despite my assurance that it was not.«

»Because my feelings don’t have a fucking switch I can use at will!«

»Hm. Certainly not an off-switch!«

»Oh, fuck you.« The shaking had finally subsided. Vox’s eye was pulsing with rage, electricity dancing between his antennas and at the tips of his claws. Tiny bolts of lightning singed Alastor’s carpet, the holes starting to smoke. »If that’s all, I’m leaving.« The hotel was secured against coming inside from the outside, even through the electricity, but not the other way around. He took a deep breath. At least the anger had gotten rid of the last bits of nausea.

»Wait.« The single word was threaded with static, spoken through clenched teeth.

Perhaps foolishly, Vox waited.

»What do you know about that demon?«

»Now you’re interested.«

The day was filled with surprise after surprise. The Radio Demon was capable of blushing. It was very faint, just a shimmer of pink on his grey skin, but Vox’s sensors picked it up regardless. Well, what do you know. Unfortunately, he was still too angry to properly enjoy the picture.

Alastor raised his chin, hands clasped neatly behind his back in a familiar pose, except that his microphone was still missing. »It appears that my… condition disallows me from participating in too strenuous activities such as the vanquishing of rather puissant fellow demons, even on occasions where this course of action would be preferable.«

Vox raised a single eyebrow. »That’s a lot of fancy words for saying you need my help.« Alastor just stared at him, grinning. He wasn’t going to repeat himself. But he’d admitted to needing Vox. No, to needing his help. Slight difference. Vox frowned. »I’m not selling you my soul.«

»Acceptable.«

»No one owes anyone any favours. We are working together for as long as both of us benefit, then act as if that never happened.«

»Acceptable.«

»No backstabbing.«

Alastor’s grin widened. »Now, where would be the fun in that?«

Yeah, Vox hadn’t really expected him to agree to that one. Where would be the fun, indeed?

Notes:

Vox is down *bad*

Chapter 8: Unchallenged

Notes:

This one's quite short. But now you're all caught up with Metaxx and can appreciate how he torments Vox specifically. yey

Two weeks ago.

There were angels flying around outside. Metaxx hadn’t quite believed in their existence until he’d seen the first one. The concept of an ›angel‹ seemed too pure to be true. Now they were killing every demon in sight and he felt quiet ratified. Not pure after all.

He lounged in a chair, playing with the gun in his hand, watching the live stream through some of Vox’s security cameras. The TV Demon either had very lax security or was otherwise occupied, because he didn’t seem to notice the hijacking.

None of the angels paid attention to the rundown building Metaxx had chosen as his lair, which was almost a shame. He would’ve liked to know how he’d fare against one of them. But either way, they were good entertainment.

His eyes were following the red shape on screen, the distorted one. The Radio Demon, as he’d found out. Apparently this overlord had been gone for a while, but everyone was still afraid of him, speaking his name only in hushed tones. He was supposed to be strong, with powers not dissimilar to Metaxx’s own.

But Metaxx didn’t see anything of that alleged might, when the guy in the dress almost cut the red one in two.

 

Now.

Metaxx had always known he was a genius, even when he was alive. Of course, he’d never been appreciated or rewarded enough, but now… In Hell, it was different. The other demons looked at him with envy and fear, too stupid to see that all it took was some willpower and skill.

He revelled in their attention. But there was something even better to be found here, something he never could have gotten back on Earth: souls. They were worth everything.

The first bargain had changed his world. He was still chasing that high, trying to tempt more and more powerful demons. Metaxx was sure that an overlord would bring the rush of power he needed. He’d get the red one next time. Vox, he’d save for last. First, the TV Demon had to recognize him, had to realise the mistake of overlooking Metaxx in his arrogance.

But that would come in time. All he needed was a little more patience.

Sometimes, in idle moments like this, Metaxx mused if Valerie was similarly successful here. She couldn’t be, without him to do all the work. Valerie Richmont, his eternal reason for unreasonableness. She had forced him to do so many things and judged him for every single one. No doubt he’d get her too, at some point.

He remembered her death. That he’d killed her with a single post. What power might he wield now, when he was damned anyway and had nothing left to lose? When he was utterly unchallenged?

Metaxx – no, all of Hell – would find out soon.

Chapter 9: All that begins with V is not VoxTek

Notes:

Yey I finally drew myself a new profile picture. I‘ll add some horns later I think :D

»I don’t see how losing your assistant’s soul to him will bring us any new insight.«

»He can’t lose his soul, I already own it. And like this we’ll know what they all experience.« Vox was typing on some terminal only he could see. From an outside perspective it looked rather ridiculous.

»I also don’t see how knowing what they experience will bring us any new insight.«

Vox’s eyes focused on Alastor and his fingers stopped moving. »It might give us a clue as to how he collects their souls. Can you, like, stop questioning me for two fucking seconds?«

»Hm.« Seeing Vox as a competent individual came unnaturally to Alastor, especially when him doing anything at all seemed to make Vox lose his train of thought. »Maybe! Two consecutive seconds?« There it was again: Vox was looking at him so intently, and for a moment too long, before he focused on the invisible screen again.

»It’s not like you’re doing anything useful.«

Alastor reclined on the couch. It was still a bit bloody. He thought it gave the room a nice ominous touch. »I may have agreed to help you, but all that pretentious tech stuff is decidedly your domain.«

Again, Vox let himself be distracted from his task. »Nuh-uh. We agreed to help each other.« He frowned. »And I doubt you’ll be of much help to me when you’re still as fragile as a newborn fawn.«

»Ç̷̨̧̛͇͍͈͐ǎ̸̠́̏l̵͙͛́͋̑̕̚l̸̪̣̫̩̠̭̞̃́̍̉ ̷͍̼̑̂̓̚̕m̷̨̛̳̠̪̼̊̔̿̋e̵̗͙̥͑̕ ̵̠̫͓̐͗̆̒̌f̶̨̠̯̖̟̐ͅͅr̴̙͕͓̰͖̋̓͘̕ạ̵͈̩̥̪͖̄́́̆̾͝g̶̢͎̗̊̋̈́͊̈͜͝ĩ̷̢̱͍̱̗̓̊̉́̄̽͜ļ̵̙̳͌̉̆͒͜ě̸̮̦͍̀͌̒͐̀͐ ̷͍̠̗̙͗̈ä̸̧̧̰̩͇̙͙̂̽͝g̸̨͛a̷̳͖̞̩̲̅̈̿̏̀͌ȉ̴̳͉̱̦̫̓́̔̕͜ǹ̵͇̌ͅ,« Alastor warned, tentacles of darkness shooting out of the ground, his smile stretching beyond the confines of his face. A crackle of power filled the air. The display lasted for a few seconds before he had to– no, chose to draw back.

»Hah.« Vox shook his head. »If I’d said that a month ago, you would’ve tried to cut me open like Adam did to you. You just proved my point, Bambi.«

Sometimes Alastor imagined Vox’s screams joining his broadcast. This was one of those times. The other overlord’s voice was actually quite nice. If Alastor had been a gambling man, he would’ve bet Vox’s wails of terror sounded even better. »Bambi?« he asked calmly.

Vox gestured vaguely to Alastor’s ears, his screen tinting slightly pink. »Yeah. Because of… y’know.«

»I don’t know,« Alastor said, still very calm. »Please, do enlighten me.«

»Uhh,« Vox replied with his usual level of eloquence.

Alastor kept staring at him until the other overlord’s screen was buzzing with static and he turned away hastily. The show of submissiveness and anxiety let Alastor decide to magnanimously ignore the derisive nickname. This time. »You don’t need to worry, and fuzz over me like a child with their favourite doll. I have been fine before and I will be fine now. And I will not let myself die for you, or any agreement I’ve made.«

»Yes!«

That was a rather more enthusiastic agreement to Alastor’s statement than he had expected. A second later it turned out that the exclamation hadn’t been directed at him at all. Vox turned back around, his screen showing some kind of landscape instead of his face. He made a quick gesture with his hands, which made his face reappear – unfortunately – and cast the landscape on one of the walls of his living room.

It looked… much greener than Alastor was used to seeing. There wasn’t a single alive tree in Hell, but the picture before him showed a whole forest. In the upper right corner of the screen was a little face, with three different coloured bars beneath it, and a number.

He narrowed his eyes. »A picture of the living world? What is there to be happy about?«

But Vox’s shark grin didn’t waver. Instead he strolled closer to Alastor’s couch. »It’s not the living world. It’s a render of the living world.« Now he hesitated. »I admit, it’s a good one.«

Alastor searched his brain for the unfamiliar word. But when Rosie had taught him newer human vocabulary, she had neglected to mention any ›renders‹. It didn’t sound like it had anything to do with the rending of flesh, unfortunately. He wouldn’t ask Vox, though. »So?«

»So it looks like a video game.«

»And how is that helpful and or relevant?«

Vox’s expression darkened. Literally. »I’m not sure yet. I’ve made video games. That can’t be all there is to his success.«

Alastor let his grin widen. »Maybe he’s just doing it better than you.«

»Fuck you, asshole.«

For a moment, he felt deaf again, cut off from his radio waves. The grin stretched taut. »Is there going to be something worthwhile to see, or have I wasted my time coming here?«

»You insisted on coming here to, and I quote, ›keep an eye‹ on me, because you don’t trust me to share whatever I find,« Vox snarled. »So shut the fuck up.«

Alastor shut up. Not because of any inconsequential blabbering coming out of Vox’s mouth, but because, first of, the picture turned out to be a video that had just been loading until now, and second, the sound started playing on full volume. Alastor’s ears pinned back and he almost flinched, causing his chest to light up with pain.

Vox had barely reacted. But now he frowned at the silly, up-beat music playing from the speakers. The melody seemed to consist of the same four chords, chasing each other in a soulless, albeit catchy, rhythm.

Calling it music, in Alastor’s opinion, was actually a bit of a stretch.

Also, there was panting. And two hands, going in and out of the frame as if the person whose view they shared was running.

»Travis?« Vox asked. »Can you hear me?«

»Yes, Mister Vox, loud and clear.«

»Why are you breathing like you just attended an orgy?«

Alastor raised his eyebrows. Not the comparison he would’ve gone for.

The assistant sounded a bit sheepish when he answered. »Well, I– uh, they, well, they offered me the full package. With treadmill and full body suit to feel stuff and so on. It was on sale. They said it’s the best way to play, the only way to get the full experience.«

Vox slapped a hand on his screen. »A sale? Idiot. That’s like the easiest fucking trick in the book.«

This was turning into a rather interesting spectacle after all. Alastor wasn’t sure if he wanted it to end with Vox causing another blackout out of anger and exasperation, or with them finding out how to stop Metaxx from collecting more souls. It was a difficult call. At the very least he wanted a snack, though. Maybe one of the delicious boxes of pinkies Rosie liked to bring to tea.

»Alright, alright, fine. I won’t punish you if you bring me something useful. Was there anything useful so far?«

»Uhhh.«

Vox narrowed his eyes, the left one pulsing slowly. »Tell me,«, he said in a low, dangerous voice.

Alastor glanced at him. It was weird, seeing glimpses of the overlord some might actually find intimidating.

»I–« There was a defeated sigh, then the view changed, one landscape dissolving and another taking its place. In one corner of the screen a warning appeared: Last teleportation spell used. More spells can be acquired in the shop.

There were ruins with artfully arranged rubble and more green plants climbing what was left of the walls. But what drew the viewer’s attention was the person in the middle of the screen: a surprisingly accurate replica of Vox, striped suit and everything. Two people were fighting the digital Vox. And, if Alastor interpreted the red bar over his head right, they were winning.

»What,« the Vox next to him said slowly, »the actual fuck.«

Alastor had to keep himself from snickering. »You should be flattered. Imitation is the highest form of–« The red bar disappeared and the digital Vox let out a long wail before turning to dust. Alastor burst out laughing.

»What the fuck?« Vox repeated as the two people who had defeated him picked up his antennas from the ground and stored them in their pockets. »Did they just fucking kill me?«

»And kept parts of you as trophies!« Alastor added gleefully. »Did you hear that scream?« Not quite as nice as he had imagined for his broadcast, but decidedly hilarious.

»Travis, what the fuck?« Apparently seeing his own (second) death had limited Vox’s vocabulary even more than it usually was. Alastor suppressed his snickering just enough to be able to follow the conversation.

The assistant cleared his throat awkwardly. »There’s dungeons like this all over the map and uh… Each overlord is the end boss of one.« He hesitated for a long moment. »Except one.«

Vox sparked with electricity. »I swear to all that is unholy, if you don’t keep talking I will make you wish you’d sold your soul to Valentino instead.«

»Well, in this dungeon I’m in…« He turned a bit to the side, his field of view shifting to reveal a path through the ruins, its edges overgrown with red, thorny flowers. »You weren’t the end boss, Mister Vox.«

Alastor couldn’t remember being this filled with suspense since one of his earliest kills, when the thrill had still been oh so very new. »Now now, dear, don’t keep us guessing!« he prompted.

»Uh, yeah.« Again the view shifted and it looked like they were walking between the stones and red flowers, finally arriving at a big, green glowing door. »You were just guarding the entrance to the lair of the actual end boss.« Travis swallowed audibly, then kicked the gates open.

Alastor stared at himself. Then he burst out laughing again, almost missing the way Vox was violently shaking, error after error flashing on his screen, white on blue.

»Shut the fuck up!« Vox yelled. »You’re also just another game character to defeat!«

»But–« Alastor wheezed. »You are just– my guard dog!« His chest burned with pain, but he couldn’t stop laughing.

»Alright, enough! Travis, get the fuck out of there and get me those glasses, I’m going in myself.«

Whatever the answer would have been, they would never know. Because the Alastor on screen had opened his eyes, his pupils ticking radio dials. Then a single black tentacle shot forward and turned the assistant’s words into an unintelligible gurgle. The red bar below the face in the corner disappeared.

There was silence.

Alastor stopped laughing, curiously cocking his head. »Is he dead?« Travis couldn’t be dead permanently, because Alastor doubted the inside of a video game could hold angelic steel, but still, dying wasn’t fun, even if it didn’t take.

»He fucking kills people in the game?« Vox asked, sounding a bit caught off-guard.

The assistant took a deep breath, but before he could say something, a pop-up appeared on the red tinted screen. Alastor read the words and clicked his tongue in understanding.

 

Oh no! You have died! Unfortunately the standard version of Over Kills you have purchased only comes with one life. Sad!

Luckily for you, we have a very special offer, one time only! You can purchase the Legendary Item Saving Grace from our shop to revive*.

(Time remaining to purchase: 09:39)

 

*The Legendary Item Saving Grace comes at the cost of one soul. There is no warranty and the purchase cannot be undone. Should you decide not to revive, you will remain in the game as part of the expansive world building that can be enjoyed by the other players. We thank you for playing Hell’s one and only, top of the line VR game: Over Kills.

 

»Huh,« Vox said.

»Mister Vox?« The assistant sounded very small. »What do I do?«

»Take the glasses off,« Vox ordered.

Muffled sounds of strain filtered through the speakers, while the seconds on the digital clock ticked down. Finally, the assistant gave a distraught little whine. »I can’t. It won’t come off.«

Vox didn’t look happy, his mouth a staticy, downturned line. »You don’t have a soul to sell.«

Alastor grinned. »You could release him from his contract. Then he’d have his bargaining chip back.«

»Sure,« Vox snapped. »And the next thing I do is check in with your little princess and do trust falls with Val’s wh– Angel Dust.« His screen flickered. »I’m not giving that fucker another soul and certainly not one of mine.« For a moment he looked at the screen, seeming almost regretful. Then he made a gesture and the picture disappeared.

»And people call me cruel,« Alastor mused.

»You trap souls in your broadcasts for eternity and just plain eat others – and not in a sexy way,« Vox said flatly. »You are cruel.«

»Hm.« Alastor licked his lips. He hadn’t eaten someone in a while. »I guess we’re all monsters down here.«

With a sigh Vox turned away. »I tried that for fucking months, you know.«

»Being a monster? Did you even manage to fail at that?«

»Collecting souls through games, you asshole.«

Alastor inspected his claws, ignoring the smell of his own blood. »Relying on technology to make deals is rather pathetic, even for you. Where’s the thrill of the chase, the finesse, the turning the other’s desire against them?« Static grew louder in his words, his teeth sharpening. »Where’s the fun?«

»Shit, you’re intense sometimes,« Vox muttered. He shook his head. Then his grin returned. »At least now we know how he’s getting souls. So, all we need to do is turn this knowledge against him.« Vox crossed his arms, left eye pulsing in triumph. »Can you admit now that I know what I’m doing?«

Alastor grinned wider, choosing the words he knew would rile Vox up the most: »Well, technically your assistant did all the work.«

»I fucking hate you.«

Notes:

This chapter was so fun to write

Chapter 10: Intervention

Angel was reclining on the couch in an effortlessly artful pose when Alastor entered the lobby. »Heya, Smiles.«

»Angel.« His power was behaving weirdly, so he opted to take the stairs. A choice that gave the spider demon enough time to say something Alastor would have killed others for even thinking.

»Ya spendin’ a lot of time out lately. That’s not connected to Vox, by chance, is it?«

Alastor stopped, turned his head without moving the body. Angel didn’t seem impressed by the trick. Maybe not-quite-human-anatomy wasn’t a huge shock for a person with three pairs of (retractable) arms. Maybe the other demon had just become stupidly trusting – Charlie’s influence, no doubt. »Are you implying something, Angel Dust?«

Angel grinned. »Always, sugar.« He got serious again pretty fast. »It’s just… y’know, Vox is one of the Vees.«

»I am aware.«

»Well, I just wanted ta make sure ya know what you’re getting into. They are seriously fucked up. Even ignoring the shit Val does in my presence on a daily basis, the things I’ve overheard when they didn’t know I was there… I guess what I’m sayin’ is, be careful not to get hurt.«

Definitely Charlie’s influence, Alastor decided. He laughed, chest aching. »My dear Angel, Vox wouldn’t have the power to hurt me if he tried.«

»So he isn’t currently tryin’? Not that long ago he wanted to publicly beat ya ass on live television.«

»And look how that turned out for him!« Angel just kept looking at him with unexpected seriousness. Alastor suppressed a sigh and fixed his collar. »Vox and I… have come to an agreement.« That he still hoped he could turn into a deal.

Angel raised his eyebrows. »An agreement? With Vox? Y’know, Smiles, if I didn’t think the Vees were incapable of love, I’d say Vox has a lil’ crush on ya.« He somehow reclined even more. »Judging by the way he kept starin’ at you when he was last here.«

Alastor cocked his head. »You don’t say.«

»I know, the thought’s absurd.«

»Indeed,« said Alastor, smile stretching. »Thank you, Angel. Your little intervention actually turned out to be helpful.«

»Hey! Ass.«

But Alastor only chuckled, gliding up the stairs. So his attempt at distracting Vox after calling him to the hotel the first time had been a step into the right direction. He just hadn’t known how effective it might prove.

Closing his door behind him, he sacked against it, legs feeling heavy. Never in his life would he say it out loud, especially not to Vox, but the wound was draining him. He needed something stronger than a common soul, a common demon’s flesh.

As much as he hated to admit it, he needed Vox.

Chapter 11: And that's the tea

Notes:

This is one of my favourite chapters. I hope you like it as well!

Excuse my irregular posting schedule, I'm on vacation haha

He saw Val every day and more than half of those meetings ended in bed – or on the couch or the kitchen counter, whatever was closest. How was that ›not spending enough time on their relationship‹? Fucking Val.

Vox tipped back his head and took another long swallow of bourbon, before throwing the empty bottle to its two companions. Getting drunk had certainly been easier as a human. Already he could feel the effects lessening, his filters draining the alcohol from his blood.

A part of him, the more mechanical one, was almost wholly unaffected, still running a search in the background for Metaxx and cataloguing every sinner that a camera saw with VR glasses. A message popped up in the corner of his screen. Breach. Wait. Since when did Alastor take the elevator instead of just appearing in Vox’s living room?

Before Vox had the time to organise his thoughts or get another bottle of bourbon, the Radio Demon strode through his door as if he owned the place.

His grin widened when he saw Vox sprawled on the couch. »Hard at work, are we?«

»I’m ‘ctually.« Well. Maybe his speech wasn’t wholly unaffected by the alcohol. Vox blinked and tried again: »I am. I’ve updated the biometric algorithms of my facial recognition software to work even with Metaxx’s stupid glasses, I’ve created a distributed hash-based database containing every sinner wearing VR equipment, including name, power status and contextual metadata, that gets updated by my daemons every few seconds, and I instructed a dozen drones to follow Metaxx himself and write hourly status reports…« Alastor very obviously wasn’t understanding half of the words Vox was saying. He stopped and pushed himself up onto an elbow. »You want a drink?«

At that, Alastor’s politely disinterested face brightened and his deer ears perked up. »Rye,« he replied in lieu of a Yes or No.

»I know.« Vox stood and snapped his fingers and the door of his mini bar swung open. He considered the contents for a moment, then decided against a glass and just tossed Alastor a whole bottle of rye. He hated the stuff himself, opting instead for another bourbon.

»Hmmm.«

The pleasure in that sound made Vox shiver. He turned away from Alastor, who was now rudely taking up the whole couch anyway, and washed down the fluttery feeling with another long swig of alcohol, before sinking onto the plush carpet.

»You can’t do much of anything, but I have to admit, your choice of drink is sublime. It appears some of my good taste did pass to you in the time we used to spend together.«

Vox neglected to mention that he’d bought the rye because he knew it was Alastor’s favourite, and also because he was an idiot. Instead he made a non-committal noise and took another swallow. He felt very tired. Two weeks of spying on Metaxx and trying to ignore Alastor’s worsening condition would do that to a demon.

»It’s unbecoming, really.«

»What is?« Vox asked, glancing over at the Radio Demon. Alastor only had eyes for the bottle. He was looking at it like it was his lifeline, actually. Maybe because it numbed the pain his chest must cause him.

»Your pettiness.«

»What?« Vox had enough self-awareness to know he wasn’t above a bit of pettiness but none of his actions in the last few minutes had been supposed to be.

Alastor waved a hand vaguely. »All your technical jargon.«

Vox frowned. »It’s not my fault you don’t know what a fucking distributed hash table is. I thought my explanation was mostly self-explanatory. I certainly didn’t pick more obscure words to be petty, that’s just what they’re called. Also, you literally used the phrase ›that’s the tea‹ in your attempt to publicly humiliate me, so how the hell am I supposed to know where your knowledge of modern words starts and ends?«

»Attempt?« Alastor grinned widely. »Oh, I’d say that was more than an attempt.«

To save his own sanity – and spare his cooling system – Vox didn’t rise to the obvious bait. »Also, you could literally just ask me to explain.«

Alastor raised an eyebrow.

Vox threw his hands up. »How was that? Not being able to admit you’re wrong makes you a bad sport? Well, it’s the same with not admitting you don’t know something.«

»It happens just as rarely.«

»You are unbelievable. Then just fucking voogle it!« Vox stood up, immediately regretting the decision as the room started spinning violently. Maybe his intoxication wasn’t fading as fast as he’d thought. Or maybe he’d continued drinking in time.

Alastor didn’t move, except to take another sip. »I don’t own a phone.«

»Someone in your stupid hotel does! I know for a fact at least Angel has one because Val keeps very close tabs on it.«

»What was that last bit?« Alastor asked pleasantly.

Vox’s first reaction was fuck. His second: »Oh, come on. As if that wasn’t obvious.«

»Keeps tabs how, exactly?«

»Will you let me fix you if I tell you?« The words were out before Vox could think better of them. Had he been just a bit more sober, he would have at least rephrased.

Alastor’s ears pinned back on his head. »I don’t need fixing,« he said coldly, »and especially not by you.«

»I–« Vox sighed and ran a hand over his screen. »That’s not how I meant it.«

»Of course.« Now Alastor rose from the couch, bottle in hand but swaying only slightly. »You don’t think I’m weak. You don’t smell opportunity to finally defeat me and get rid of me. You don’t see me as a little pet project. What are you trying to prove by healing my wound? Are you eager to test some dangerous method so that when the angels come knocking you know how you can heal yourself? Do you–«

Vox had gotten so good at keeping his composure. He was the one who made Valentino think before acting rashly, who remained calm when the other Vees were a storm. He was the one who made sure their image remained clean – as clean as it could be in Hell. But Alastor… he always managed to find a way to provoke Vox. Always had. During their friendship, if it could ever have been called that, he had enjoyed the thrill of being challenged. But somehow, Alastor had broken something in him. Now the mere mention of the name set him on edge. And when Alastor started to speak, Vox wanted to strangle him in all sorts of ways. Especially when he was saying those words, apparently.

It was stupid, but again Vox’s mouth was faster than his processors. »I’m not trying to gain some kind of advantage! I am worried!«

That gave Alastor pause, if only for a second. »Why would you be worried about me?«

It must have been the alcohol. Or maybe the pent-up rage and sexual frustration and normal frustration and tiredness. And that he’d lost his assistant and was losing his grip on Hell and losing his grip on his mind. Who could say, really?

Nothing could change that what came out of his mouth was: »Because I’m in fucking love with you! Fuck. Shit. Fuck!« Vox turned away, drained the bottle, ran a hand down his screen. He shouldn’t have said that. He really shouldn’t have said that. He might as well have signed his own death sentence. If Alastor breathed a word of this, if the rumours started, people would pick him apart. Analyse every one of his past and future moves. And he wasn’t sure he had managed to hide his feelings that well.

A part of him, filled with some kind of morbid curiosity, wondered how Alastor would react. Actually, he had expected him to laugh in his face. But the only noises in the room were his too-fast breaths and the slight hum of electricity. Vox slowly turned back around.

Alastor was looking at him thoughtfully. Not really mocking. Not really angry. Not really happy. Not really anything.

Well, so much for Vox’s stupid dreams of reciprocation. He wondered why the alcohol didn’t manage to dull that pain, too. That he’d known this would be the outcome of his confession weirdly didn’t make it any better.

»How do you know?«

»What?« Of all the questions…

»You say you’re in love with me. How do you know? Angel implied the same, saying it was the way you looked at me that betrayed you. But I don’t see it.«

»I don’t know, okay?« Where could he even start explaining?

Alastor cocked his head. »Do you feel like winged insects are inhabiting your colon?«

Now there was some of the ridicule he’d expected. Vox shook his head. »It’s more like fire,« he said and immediately willed himself to shut up. Why was he even entertaining this line of questioning?

»Do elaborate.«

Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up. »When a human feels their clothes catching on fire, they can’t ignore it.«

»You’re not human.«

»Yeah, well, this squishy stuff feels pretty human,« Vox snapped. »Do you want me to elaborate or not?«

Alastor looked like he was about to start taking notes. »Apologies. Do go on.«

»I can’t ignore you. And I can’t come too close because I know I’ll just burn myself. But at the same time it’s cold everywhere and I really want to be warm.« The words were a mess. His thoughts were a mess. Vox knew he wasn’t making much sense.

»Interesting!«

»Why did you ask me that?«

»No reason!«

»Uh, sure.«

Alastor grinned wider. »I wouldn’t know what it feels like, and I’m curious. I used to ask my victims questions, too.«

»You’re going to use this against me, aren’t you.« Vox was so tired. A very, very small part of him almost wished Alastor would just get it over with and kill him. Even that wouldn’t take, though. Not without angelic weapons.

»Why, of course, my dear!« Alastor said cheerfully. »You were very stupid to tell me.«

No surprise there. Vox swayed on his feet. »So you were never in love before?« An irrelevant question. He didn’t know what answer he wanted, or what he would do with it once he got it.

»Certainly not! And I’m not planning to be any time soon. It sounds quite irritating.«

Vox laughed. »You think I planned this?«

»There are worse people to fall for.«

Arrogant bastard. »Not really.« Vox swayed again. He was feeling a bit nauseous, actually. If from drunkenness or his confession or the sense of doom slowly settling in his gears, he wasn’t sure. At least alcohol didn’t make his head ache any more, since said head had become a TV.

He didn’t know why his thoughts sprang back to it. Vox made a step towards Alastor, eyes fixed on his chest. »Will you let me help you now?«

»I don’t think I trust you quite enough to put myself into a position where my well-being requires your good-will.«

That, at least, was a reasonable answer. Still stupid if the alternative was slowly bleeding out, though. Vox laughed drily, a good bit of self-loathing in the noise. »I showed you all that weakness. Least you can do is get better and get rid of that glasses wearing fucker for both our sakes.«

»Are you admitting I’m stronger than you?«

»No. Fuck you.«

Alastor seemed to consider, helped by another sip of rye. »I’ll agree. If we make a deal.«

Vox swayed back. »Uh, yeah, that’s still a hard no.«

»Oh, not for your soul, you bore.«

»I am way too drunk and tired to make a deal right now.« He had this much sense left, at least.

»We can speak about the terms later.«

Vox stared at him for a moment. »I’ll consider the possibility.«

»Splendid!« Alastor half turned to leave.

»That you want me to agree to a deal is outrageous, by the way. You want me to give you something for helping you? You really are…« Vox faltered, looking for the words. Internally he tried to open a page for synonyms, but the results were garbled, as organised as his drunken thoughts. Apparently he’d finally gotten to the level of intoxication that affected even his more mechanical parts. »You are,« he said at last, »a mud brain.«

Alastor actually laughed, the sound more surprised than mocking. »You wound me.«

»Don’t need to,« Vox murmured. »Y’already have a gaping hole in your damn chest.«

And then – a testament to his sorry state, really – he fainted.

 

Vox woke several hours later in the soft blue glow of his living room. His body ached, but not as badly as he would have expected after first falling to and then sleeping on the floor.

A possible reason for that, he decided, was that he was, in fact, not lying on the floor. Instead he lay on his bloodstained couch, his coat haphazardly thrown over him like a blanket.

The shark drew slow circles in his aquarium.

»Unbelievable, right, Vark?« Vox murmured and fell back asleep.

Notes:

Fun Fact #1: With this chapter we reached the 15k word count
Fun Fact #2: This whole fic was originally supposed to be around 15k words
Anyway. 25k more to go!

Chapter 12: O Lord, heal this motherfucker

Notes:

CW: amateur surgery, vivid description of pain, some blood

Vox was still tired, and seeing the mountain of papers Alastor set in front of him didn’t really help his condition. (Nor did seeing Alastor himself, who had so far ignored Vox’s little outburst but could bring it up at any time.) »You can’t be serious. Couldn’t you at least have typed that on a computer?«

Alastor raised both eyebrows at him in lieu of an answer.

With a deep sigh, Vox pulled the papers over the table to where he was sitting. »I guess not.« He started reading and stopped almost immediately. »How likely do you think it is that I will ›attempt to get you strangled by an ape demon‹? Holy shit, did you list every threat you could think of?«

»It always pays to be careful. I alphabetized them.«

Vox flicked through the papers, scanning some lines of neatly handwritten text. »I’m neither going to put an explosive device into your chest cavity, nor will I try feeding you to Vark. That would probably give him indigestion.« Annoyance flickered through him like electricity. »I’m not reading all of this and I’m not signing it when you might have hidden anything in there.«

Alastor’s grin widened. »What? Don’t you trust me?« There was a slight green glow surrounding the Radio Demon, ancient red runes just barely visible in the air around him.

Vox swallowed. »Not really.«

»Why not, my dear?« Alastor rounded the table, stepping very close to Vox’s chair and letting one claw tip up Vox’s screen. Then he slowly guided him to stand and a moment later Vox found himself with his back against the wall and the Radio Demon grinning at him from a really fucking short distance.

Sparks of electricity ran over Vox’s skin like shivers and the fans of his cooling system kicked up audibly. He had to concentrate to not let his face drown in static. More than one of his dreams had started this way and he wondered faintly if he’d even really woken up after his late night yesterday. Maybe he was still lying on the floor where he’d fainted, having dreamt the whole revealing of feelings thing. Maybe in this dream Alastor returned the sentiment.

»Why not?« Alastor repeated, a single claw tapping Vox’s chest, right over his heart. There was a pinprick of pain where he touched. »Don’t you love me?«

Vox pushed the other demon away and fled to the other side of his table, panting slightly. Not a dream. »You sadistic motherfucker.« He put both hands on the desk to hide their shaking. Fuck.

Alastor straightened his coat, smiling pleasantly. »Oh, come now, my dear. Don’t act like you wouldn’t use any weapon at your disposal.«

It wasn’t as if the Radio Demon had pretended he wouldn’t try to use the knowledge he’d gained to his advantage. Still, Vox had to fight not to flinch. »No, I wouldn’t,« he snapped. Not any weapon. Not on anyone.

»Hm.« Alastor considered him for a moment. »All the more fool you!«

»Can we get this over with? I have a meeting with Velvette later.«

»Of course! Just sign the deal.«

Vox shook his head. »I’m not an idiot.«

»Debatable.«

»Fuck you.«

»Your witty comebacks continue to amaze me,« Alastor said, sounding completely sincere. Somehow that brought out the mockery in his words even better.

Vox’s hands balled into fists, claws almost puncturing skin. »How about this,« he said through clenched teeth. »I promise not to – knowingly or on purpose – botch anything related to your recovery from the chest wound the First Man Adam gave you some weeks ago. In return you promise to help me get rid of Metaxx to the best of your abilities.«

»Hm!« Alastor tipped his chin with a claw. »You carved yourself quite a nice little loophole there.«

»Yeah, well, I’m not going to risk the consequences of a broken deal just to make you feel better. There’s no certainty with a wound as severe as yours, especially considering you waited this long to do anything about it. So if you kick the bucket after all, I won’t lose my power, and you won’t care anyway.« Vox held out his hand, waiting. He was honestly not sure what the other demon would do.

»I want a temporal limit to my involvement with you. Say, I will offer you a week of helping you with the newcomer.«

»Ha! In a week you’re probably still–« The look in Alastor’s eyes made him reconsider saying ›fragile‹ again. »–recovering. I want half a year.«

»Don’t be ridiculous. A month.«

»Four months,« Vox said, raising his hand a fraction. Just enough for the movement to catch Alastor’s gaze.

The Radio Demon hesitated. There was blood on his shirt. »Fine,« he said finally and took Vox’s hand.

A sourceless wind snapped to life around them, cyan and green light illuminating the office, runes and electricity dancing and mingling and melting together in the air. A current arched through every one of Vox’s nerves, followed by a wave of raw power. His casual form was slipping, revealing bits of his more demonic look, all snapping wires and sharp angles and glowing lightning. He was staring into radio dial eyes in a grinning face full of stitches.

Silence followed as suddenly as the display of power had sprung to life, leaving the air humming with nothingness, as if every bit of energy had burned away.

Vox drew his hand back, claws tingling. »Great,« he said, a bit strained. He’d never made a deal with someone this powerful. The feeling echoed inside him. He wanted more of it.

 

~*~

 

He sent his shadow to loom behind Vox, to watch the other demon’s every move with glowing, merciless eyes.

»Do you have to?«

Alastor turned to the TV Demon and cocked his head. »I didn’t get to where I am with being incautious.«

»We already made a deal.«

»Then I am sure you can deal with this as well,« Alastor said cheerfully. There was a slight tingling in his lower abdomen.

Vox rolled his eyes. »Alright.« Then he looked at Alastor expectantly.

»What?«

»Well, uh. You kind of need to take off your coat. And shirt.«

Alastor narrowed his eyes. The tingling intensified but he pinned the blame on hunger, not something as ridiculous as nervousness. »I think you’re giving yourself a little too much freedom, old pal.«

Vox, who had taken off his own coat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, sighed and put the small white coffer to the side. »How do you propose I stitch up your wound,« he said, »if you still wear all your clothes? Should I just sew them to your skin?«

That seemed like the preferable option, when the other was to undress in front of Vox. In front of anyone, really. But admitting that would be showing weakness. He couldn’t have that. So Alastor narrowed his eyes in a way that made the room grow noticeably colder, and first took off his coat, then opened his shirt. The bandages around his chest were once again soaked with blood, the pain such a constant companion that it had dulled to a low ache.

Vox opened the box he had set aside and drew out a pair of scissors. He cut the soiled strips of cloth with a focused carefulness that almost made his worry seem genuine. Then he whistled when he saw the wound. »You’re sure you don’t want anything for the pain?«

Alastor forced himself not to shift on the bloodstained sofa. He’d insisted on not going to a hospital, not getting a trauma surgeon, and he had resisted medication, for good reason: Putting your guard down got you killed. He grinned more broadly. »And give you the chance to muddle my brain with drugs?«

»I thought your little princess did regular trust exercises,« Vox mumbled, but he didn’t press the issue. After all, he wouldn’t be feeling the pain.

The next thing he drew from his box was a glove, with thicker rubber at the tips of the claws. Only after putting it on did he draw out a small bottle and a sterile cloth. When he popped open the cap, it smelled overwhelmingly of disinfectant.

»Have you ever done this before?« Alastor ventured. Because he was bored, not because he felt nervous.

Vox didn’t even look up from where he was soaking a bit of the cloth in the alcohol. »Actually, I have. Quite often. Valentino without his glasses is a hazard in itself; he’s needed stitches countless times. Vel is usually a bit more careful but there were some models who weren’t afraid to snap back – literally.«

»And on yourself?«

»I mostly don’t need it. My mechanical parts don’t bleed, at least not enough to weaken me.«

»Ah.«

When Vox started cleaning the wound, Alastor’s smile became strained. The alcohol burned, but at least the sensation distracted him from the vulnerability of the situation.

After a few minutes Vox stopped and surveyed his work. Seemingly satisfied, he put away the now bloody cloth and pulled out a needle. It radiated heavenly energy. »I haven’t done it with this, though,« Vox added helpfully.

Alastor hissed when the metal came close to his wound, making its edges light up in pain. Vox glanced at his face, but didn’t repeat the question about pain killers.

And finally, he pulled out a roll of thread. It glimmered faintly in the blue light. Heavenly rope, or something like it.

Alastor braced himself. Still, the first time the needle touched and then pierced his sore skin it felt as if Adam was ripping him open all over again. He couldn’t help but let out a low groan, flinching away from the pain. A distant part of his mind found itself enjoying it, though, mixed with the coolness of Vox’s other hand on his stomach, pushing him down.

»Alastor. Alastor, call back your shadow.«

Alastor peeled his eyes open, saw Vox hovering over him, unmoving. The shadow had its claws circling the TV Demon’s throat, ready to rip him apart if he brought that pain back. With some effort, he sent the shadow back and saw Vox take a breath of relief. Good. Good if he was scared.

Then all of Alastor’s thoughts emptied as pain washed over him again, drowning him, pulling him under. He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t need to breathe. He wanted to breathe. He couldn’t breathe.

»Fuck,« said a voice at the edge of his consciousness. »I knew I shouldn’t have let you not take any fucking painkillers. Fucking idiot. Fucking prideful… not even Lucifer himself can be this bad… thinks he can just… idiot…«

The mumbling faded.

Pain.

More Pain.

This was what the church promised humans when it told them of Hell: waves and waves of agony, eternal, inescapable. There had never been a time when this pain had not existed. Every stab of the needle brought a whole new high, a new nuance of torment.

Despite his muttering Vox seemed to keep going, accepting Alastor’s decision not to involve any drugs, needle piercing flesh until Alastor wasn’t sure if he was still alive or dying again.

And then it ended. Not suddenly, like switching off a light, but slowly, steadily the pain faded, as something cold touched Alastor’s skin. It was spread in careful motions, before warm cloth covered his chest.

»Hey. You alive?«

Alastor couldn’t open his mouth. Instead he used the radio waves of the Wi-Fi to make Vox’s phone speak the words for him: »You won’t get rid of me this easily.« He could hear the other demon jump at the unexpected source of the sound and grinned. Even moving his face hurt.

»How do you feel?« Vox was quite the actor. His worry sounded almost real.

»Hm! Like someone kept stabbing me with angelic steel.«

»Uh. Okay. So far so obvious.«

Alastor considered. The pain was still growing weaker. Whatever the salve on his wound contained, it reduced the pain without muddling his mind. He did, in fact, already feel a bit better than before the stitching. »Like you kept your end of the deal.«

Vox moved, his clothes rustling. »So you feel better?«

Alastor still hadn’t opened his eyes. The residues of blinding pain still sparked through his system and his carefully built walls were still recovering from the cracks. So he pretended there was no one else in the room and allowed himself a tiny moment of weakness, a trace of relief in his voice.

»A bit.«

 

~*~

 

He’d texted her he couldn’t make it. Again. It was the third time Vox had moved their meeting and Velvette had obviously grown more suspicious with each text.

She found him in the kitchen looking for alcohol. They’d known each other for too long and she was too perceptive not to notice that he wasn’t just busy. Vox didn’t know if that annoyed or scared him, or made his chest warm up at the thought. Probably the first.

»Out with it.«

Vox didn’t turn, only opened another cabinet. But whatever alcohol had been in there, Valentino had found it first. With a sigh he finally faced Velvette, half leaning on the counter. »I’m fine.«

»I wasn’t asking if you’re fine,« she said, putting her phone face down on the kitchen isle. »I asked what’s wrong with you.« Velvette raised her finger, cutting Vox off. »And don’t you dare say ›nothing‹.«

»Who says anything is wrong?«

She just gestured vaguely at Vox without saying a word. She was probably right.

He turned his gaze to the side, avoiding her eyes. »I might’ve made a mistake. Several, actually.«

»You make a mistake every time you get back with Val. What’s different?«

Vox frowned. »I don’t–«

Velvette raised an eyebrow. »Just because you’re both toxic, doesn’t mean your situationship isn’t. You don’t cancel each other out.«

He opened his mouth. Closed it. He really didn’t want to talk about Val right now. They were still broken up. His other alternative wasn’t any better, though. Vox was just about to argue with Velvette’s last point, when she cut him off again.

»Tell me.«

Vox eyed her phone.

She rolled her eyes. »I won’t put it on Sinstagram. I’m not an idiot.«

»I made a deal with Alastor,« Vox said, the words so fast they almost became one.

Velvette blinked. »You what.« She took a tiny step forward, suddenly very serious. »Is your soul–«

»No. No, I’ve still got my soul. Don’t worry.«

»I didn’t.«

Vox didn’t argue. Instead he went on, because he (pathetically) felt like telling someone and his circle of friends was admittedly very limited. »It’s not even the worst part. That would be me drunkenly blurting out my fucking feelings.« He put all the disgust he could muster into that last word.

»You told him about your crush?« Velvette didn’t even do him the courtesy of seeming surprised.

Now, he certainly hadn’t lost a word about that to anyone before. Vox narrowed his eyes. »What do you know about any attachments I might or might not have?«

»You’re sooo easy to read. Besides, no one makes you lose your composure like Alastor.« Her words were sharp but she did take mercy on him, because she ducked down to one of the lower cabinets and, from behind some cleaning equipment, produced a bottle of whiskey.

Vox accepted it eagerly, taking a deep swallow and settling back against the counter with a sigh.

Velvette watched him for a moment, amusement written all over her face. »You decide how much power he has over you. Well, aside from him being a bloody powerful overlord, but, you know. Fulfil your end of the deal and be done with him.« She took up her phone. »I dunno about your history but whatever it is, you clearly care more than he does. So don’t keep running after him and remember you don’t need Alastor.« Velvette grinned, raising an eyebrow. »Because, and I’m gonna say this only once, you’re Vox, owner of VoxTek, overlord of pretty much all media in Hell and face of the Vees. If anything, he should be chasing after you.« Without waiting for an answer, Velvette turned and left the kitchen, hips swaying. The phone was back in front of her face long before she was out of view.

Vox watched her go, nursing the bottle in his hands, tapping his claws against the glass.

What she’d told him was easier said than done. But she was right. He was fucking Vox. He’d find a way to get rid of Metaxx, and then he’d find a way to get rid of his weakness concerning a certain demon with a red-black aesthetic.

 

~*~

 

»You’re chipper,« Lucifer observed suspiciously.

Alastor closed the hotel’s front door behind himself, continuing to hum the song that had come to his mind on his way from V-Tower. »Good day to you, too, my king,« he said cheerfully, knowing the politeness would unnerve Lucifer more than any sharp reply. And then, in passing, he patted the top of the king’s hat. »It is such wonderful weather. You should go outside for a bit.«

»You–« Lucifer moved to bat his hand away, but Alastor was already gone.

He didn’t turn around but he could feel the other’s fuming, feel his eyes burning holes into his coat. Alastor’s grin broadened and he switched to whistling.

It was the time around which Charlie’s lessons usually ended, so he wasn’t surprised to meet Angel on the stairs. The spider demon was staring at his phone, barely shooting him a glance, until Alastor snatched the device from him.

»Hey!«

Alastor closely regarded Angel’s phone. He was now standing a good bit away from the other demon, the last few shadows floating to the ground around him.

»I still need that, Smiles.«

And indeed, there were three new messages from ›Val‹. Alastor cocked his head. »He is spying on you through this silly device.«

Angel threw two of his arms up. »I know! Val’s keeping tabs on all demons under his contract and especially–,« he took an almost not shaky breath, »–especially on his favourites.« He took a step closer, face serious. »You can’t do anything. He’ll know if you break it.« With another inhale, Angel turned his face away. »Please. Not you, too. Charlie tried to help and all she did was make things worse.«

»Oh, I’m not going to touch anything.« Alastor narrowed his eyes at the little machine in his hand. Felt its connection to the Wi-Fi. Also felt which part was transmitting just a bit too much information. Alastor reached for the radio waves, shortening their wavelength bit by bit, until they were closer to microwaves. The extra part of the phone blew up with a little pop. An accident. A little stray current. A mechanical part giving up. No one could be blamed or suspected. He held the phone out to Angel. »When he gives you a new one, keep the old and use it for everything you don’t want him seeing.«

Angel hesitated, then took his device back. »Thank you?«

»You’re welcome, my dear!« Alastor ignored the question in the other demon’s eyes and continued to his room, whistling.

He hadn’t trusted Vox when he said he could help. Hadn't trusted him when he pulled out the ancient, almost disintegrated book he'd found hell-knew-where. But even Alastor could admit that the TV Demon had kept his part of the deal. His grin widened. He already felt his strength growing. Surely, he could twist this to his advantage.

Notes:

Fun Fact: in my head the song Alastor is humming here is Stayed Gone