Chapter Text
“If it overloads, it will blow, taking you, us, and half the Pentagram with it!” Carmilla exclaimed, voice furious, and though Alastor would have found the undertone of begging delightful, he was far more preoccupied with the image in front of him.
Just then, Vox rose.
“You know what? Fuck Hell! Fuck Heaven! And fuck all of you!” the manically static chuckles stirred something familiar in his chest, the noise reminding him of his own laughter whenever a guest on his broadcast was near their visit’s end. “As long as I wipe that smile off Alastor’s fucking face...”
He matched the expression with his own, far too entertained to put a stop to the show now! But, oh, the other wasn’t done.
“...I don’t care what happens.”
The ravings of a madman. A foe who let victory slip out of his grasp. A shame.
It took some effort, but he stood, eyes never leaving the tear that trailed down the screen before him.
“My dear, as much as I would love to encourage you to continue your theatrics, truly, a wonderful performance, impressive, even.” Alastor tilted his head, grin widening as he noticed the small, almost invisible reaction to the praise. “But I am afraid it is simply too much, even for you, Vincent.”
“Too much?” Cracking up, he doubled over with a crazed smile. “Too much?!” the way he screamed the words left an unpleasant echo through the town, no doubt ringing in the ears of every sinner. “I haven’t had enough.” He said at last, and contrary to his words; the exhaustion finally bled through.
“That is your little problem, isn’t it, old friend? Greed is a sin, you know. I’m sure your captive power source could elaborate on that.”
He watched as light lit up the machine, but he made no gesture to indicate he’d move.
And Vox hesitated.
“So, what? To prove something, you will just stand there and die?”
“Is that not the very thing you are doing?”
That made the demon drop the cables, hands shaking at his sides. He sighed before continuing.
“You might have realised by now...this obsession of yours; it will not end by killing me.”
“What are you talking about?” as impatience and frustration painted his expression, Alastor took his chance and summoned his shadow to make himself appear by the man’s side.
“You will haunt me in my death as you wish I would hunt you after my soul is scattered across this sinful terrain, wouldn’t you?” unbeknownst to him, his voice had gone soft. “My death will enlarge your attachment to killing me. Your only desire will be out of reach forever. Ending me once; would it truly quench your thirst? No, I think not. Come now, what is the one and only way this ends?”
“With death.”
“Whose death, Vincent?”
There was pause. He searched the Radio Demon's eyes, and maybe he found answers there, maybe something else.
“Mine.”
No one noticed Vaggie’s spear disperse and resolidify by his side. Maybe someone gasped when he let the steel cut into skin, cables and screen. More tears gathered in Vox’ eyes as he gurgled on blood and collapsed, right into his hands.
“No screams from you, hm. Perhaps it is for the best, you always were different than the rest of my victims.”
“I was?”
Choking on what was left of the air in his lungs, vision likely blurred and all parts in agonizing pain; his last words still echoed the hope of recognition from the only person he’d burn hell for.
When he went limp, and the square went quiet, Alastor made sure no one saw his smile drop.