Chapter Text
Upon rematerializing in his own room, Alastor put all his wards up, his shadow even hurrying to close the lock of the door leading to his quarters, as useless as the gesture was. The little creature kept its eyes on him as he paced on the bedroom, trying to calm his thought as one hand came up to his head and started to pull his hair.
What had just happened?!
How?!
And where did that leave him?!
Vox had recorded the whole ordeal, which meant he would make it public as soon as possible, the Radio Demon’s humiliation exposed for the public to see. He should act before that happened. Lilith had forbidden him to take retaliation against the other Overlord, but that didn’t apply to the videos. He could potentially go back to the tower and destroy them. Maybe it was not too late yet. Maybe…
He was trembling at the thought.
Why? Why was his body betraying him again if he was not being controlled anymore?!
Alastor pulled harder from his hair until he felt the threads breaking, the pain somehow helping him to control his breath. It didn’t matter how much he knew going back to the Vees’ Tower was essential to avoid his reputation being stepped on, he couldn’t force himself to do it.
There were maggots moving underneath his skin, crawling in each place Vox had touched. This time he was not able to swallow the bile, and ended up vomiting on the ground under the worried expression of his shadow.
What a pathetic display.
“I’m fine” he lied. “Go away.”
Shuddering, the Radio Demon summoned a couple of shadow minions to deal with the mess and then closed himself in the bathroom. What he needed was a good shower to erase Vox’s touch from his skin. That was it.
Alastor was not going to be dramatic about the whole ordeal. It was not as if he had been… It hadn’t happened. He had been cleverer than Vox, tricked him with a simple clock even when he was under his control. Alastor had won.
And still.
Still…
This time only bile came out and he managed to reach the toilet first. He started to undress a moment after, taking his clothes furiously off and not sparing a look at himself as he entered the shower and turned the water on.
Warmer.
Hotter.
Boiling.
He scrubbed and scrubbed until the maggots under his skin receded enough. Didn’t matter the blood mixing with the water or the sting of his dermis. He was clean now, that was all he cared about.
Feeling slightly more relaxed afterwards, Alastor came out of the bathroom with a long robe around him. The moment he stepped out, the crawling on his skin hit him again and he growled, turning on his feet.
One more shower would do the trick, he was sure.
Hours later, when night fell upon Pentagram City, a soft knock came to his door. Alastor had spent the majority of the day in between the bathroom and an armchair in front of the chimney, eyes settled on the burning fire. He had expected not to be bothered, as everybody knew he had left that morning to meet Rosie and their time together could prolong for hours until late.
Of course, he had been too focused in removing the disgusting maggots moving under his skin to remember that Lucifer was not so easily deceived and probably expected the sinner to at least join him in bed.
“Al? I know you’re there, I can feel your wards up.”
His voice made him flinch, the noise loud against the silence he had been living in for the last few hours. Only then he noticed not even his usual static had been playing in the background.
Had it finally happened, then? Had Vox posted his video online and did the king come to confront him? Alastor could not blame him, as the record probably made it look as if he had been a willing participant of the whole thing.
The bile came back up.
“It’s ok if you want to stay here tonight, I just wanted to make sure everything was alright” the other man continued. “I haven’t seen you since the morning.”
There was no judgement in his voice, no intrusive questions. Was he being considerate or simply honest? To obtain an answer the Radio Demon should probably open the door and ask, but he was uncapable of moving, hands clawing at the arms of his chair.
Instead, he decided to play it safe and play an old recording of himself to not arise suspicions.
“I’m quite fine, my dear” his cane reproduced. “Just had a long outing with Rosie, and duties to attend as an Overlord. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
His magic made the cropping seem natural, not at all altered, and he almost praised himself for it.
“Oh, ok” Lucifer said at the other side of the door. “See you tomorrow, then. Sleep well!”
Alastor waited a couple of minutes until he was sure the king had left before moving, back to the bathroom and the relief of a shower. It was late and he should probably go to bed afterwards. He was sure a proper night of sleep would help him figure out a plan the next morning.
After the third nightmare, the Radio Demon gave up on trying to sleep. He would never do it again, if that meant the memories of Vox’s hands over him would never come to his mind.
The only benefit he obtained from his lack of sleep was the possibility of sending his shadow minions out of the room while the other slept. He ordered them to enter Angel Dust’s bedroom, where they cautiously went through the phone on his bedtable. It didn’t seem to be any signal of Vox going public with the video, which confused him further. He knew the other Overlord well enough to be sure he would make use of the recording as soon as Lilith left.
Which meant… He couldn’t.
Perhaps that was part of his deal with the Queen of Hell; the inability to publicly use any material that could damage the Radio Demon’s reputation and thus affecting the job he had been sent to do at the hotel. It made sense, when Alastor considered the way Lilith’s mind worked.
He retreated his minions with that small consolation, but still irritated. There was no way for him to know when the deal of the former queen and Vox would be done, therefore letting him with the doubt of for how long his humiliation would stay in the shadows. And, furthermore, even if it was not made public yet, Vox had said he would use it to… Alastor closed his eyes, determined to control his breath and not vomit again.
He was fine.
Fine.
Even if Vox kept defiling his image in the way he had promised he would, he could not touch him. He wouldn’t allow it. Not again. Not ever.
He was fine.
There was no point in focusing on that now. If he wanted to keep his reputation as the Radio Demon, he had to come up with a plan to erase the video from Vox’s hard drive before anyone else saw it. And then he had to plot his vengeance. Direct order protecting the other Overlord or not, Alastor was an expert finding loopholes.
Leaving his room the next morning took him a shameful amount of time, his hand trembling every time it came in contact with the doorknob. He had no reason to worry about being outside; his reputation was still intact and the hotel was a place completely Vees-free. Furthermore, as the hotelier he had important duties to attend to!
His first stop was the kitchen —still empty due to the early hours—, where he prepared a good amount of coffee for the residents before opening the fridge to find something easy to prepare. He would normally indulge in cooking a nice breakfast, but he was not in the mood for it.
Just as Alastor was about to turn around with some bread and ham —from Cannibal Town, of course—, a hand placed itself on his shoulder. He felt himself flinch, hand letting go of the food to grab the wrist as he turned around, dials on his eyes.
“DO NOT TOUCH ME!”
“Fuck, Al! Sorry, sorry!” Lucifer apologized, stepping back with a surprised expression. “I thought you had sensed me entering.”
The Radio Demon blinked rapidly, processing the scene in less than ten seconds before releasing the king’s hand and turning to pick up the fallen food as he set his breath under control.
He was fine.
“Are you ok?”
“Peachy.”
He passed the other man with an arm of distance in between them.
“I’m sorry, I should have asked before touching you” the devil repeated.
“Yes, you should have, sire” he grunted, taking a plate out as he put the bread in the toaster. “I am not in the mood for your clinginess today!”
“Oh.”
The sinner poured himself a nice cup of coffee, back still to the other man. When the toasts were done, he put them on the plate and set a piece of ham over each one of them.
“I, um… I’m sorry” Lucifer repeated, yet again. “I’ll… I’ll leave you, then.”
Alastor bit his tongue until it bled, the metallic taste filling his mouth as the king left the kitchen. Only then he felt himself capable of breathing again, the crawling feeling on his shoulder disappearing as well.
It was ridiculous.
He was long past the phase in his relationship with Lucifer when he didn’t feel comfortable with his touch. Nowadays, he even craved it, sometimes. And yet, his body had reacted as if instead to the king the hand had belonged to…
Alastor fisted his palms with enough strength to pierce through the skin.
Months ago, he wouldn’t have cared about how his words affected the devil. Now, a notorious part of him wanted to chase behind the other man to give an explanation, or at minimum apologize. Lucifer had not done anything wrong, according to the standards they had established as their relationship advanced. The Radio Demon was so in tuned with the king’s presence that he should be able to detect him anywhere in the hotel, and small touches like those were part of his daily life. Furthermore, they hadn’t screamed back at each other in the way he had in a long time.
And still, Alastor could not avoid thinking that nothing useful would come from chasing the king. He could not tell him what had happened to him. There was no way he could explain his reaction. Which meant his only option was to make it disappear. Get over himself and go back to how things were two days ago.
The rest of the day he spent in his room, where he indulged in three more showers and plotted without much success his retaliation. His wards were up again, but even with them Charlie tried to coax him out of the room for a group activity, which he politely rejected. Hours later, when night was almost upon them, Lucifer came as well to offer another apology and ensure there was no pressure from his part on the contact issue. Alastor pulled at his own hair as he used his cane to respond with another recording, intending to comfort the king by saying he was busy with Overlord problems and would soon be available again. The devil left with a soft ‘goodnight’ and letting a dreadful feeling of guilt on the sinner’s gut.
By three in the morning, he got tired of pulling at his hair while trying to come up with a decent plan. Sleep had tried to catch him a couple of times, so he finally decided to pay a visit to the kitchen in order to serve himself a good amount of caffeine. Not wanting to crack his back by staying in one of the horrendous chairs of the room, Alastor decided to move the whole pot with a cup to the lobby, where he sat in his usual armchair next to the chimney. At the moment, the place was empty, silent and with the fire as the only source of light, making it perfect for a stay until one of the hotel’s guests awoke.
As it seemed, he didn’t have to wait long, although the Radio Demon wouldn’t say the resident that interrupted his peace had woken up, more like he never went to bed.
Angel Dust entered through the front door with troubled steps, a long coat covering him as he tumbled to one of the sofas close to Alastor. He let himself clumsily fall on the cushions, apparently unaware of the other sinner’s presence. His movements showed evidence of pain and even with the coat it was evident he was injured underneath. One of his long arms moved to cover his eyes, a soft sob leaving his mouth as his body trembled.
Alastor had to look away for a moment to compose himself. He knew rather well that Angel Dust’s job could lead to him arriving in different states of bruising, but the sinner always acted nonchalant about it. Now, however, the Radio Demon saw it was all an act; a way to hide how the whole ordeal truly affected him. And he understood, because the only time he had dared to look at himself in a mirror the past two days, he saw a reflection similar to Angel Dust’s in that moment.
Broken.
The demon moved slowly, but making intentional noise in order to make his presence evident and not startle the other sinner too much. Still, Angel Dust jumped up from the sofa, turning to him with wild eyes and wrapping himself in the coat.
“What the fuck, Smiles?!” he screamed. “Don’t you fucking sleep?!”
“Not at the moment, no” Alastor admitted, trying to fake indifference. “I assume you had a long day at work?”
“Oh, um… Nah, work was fine!” the demon actor tried to convince without much success. “This is just… just… Well, ya’know how Val can get sometimes. He, um… he was particularly excited today, I dunno know why” he looked to one side, bringing his legs up on the sofa and wrapping two of his arms around them. A moment after, he added with a muttered voice: “Vox joined after, too. That made it worse. It’s… It’s always worse when it’s the two of them. They, um…”
Alastor’s blood boiled, pupils becoming dials and eldritch magic barely containing itself inside his body.
“But it’s totally fine!” Angel Dust tried assure with a broken chuckle. “You don’t have to worry, Smiles. We’re sinners! The bruises will be gone tomorrow, no scar left to remember it!”
Physical scars were not the matter here, the Radio Demon quickly realized. He wondered now how many times the other sinner had arrived in a similar state and crawled back to his room alone, waiting for the damage to disappear before anybody else could see it.
“Come on now, boy” he said, getting up from his chair. “Join me in the kitchen for a warm drink. I can also prepare a quick meal for you. A nice pesto may suffice, I believe.”
“W-What? Smiles, you don’t… I’m… I’m fine, really, you don’t need to do anything for me.”
“Well, in that case you can be sure you will not be the only one benefited from this ordeal! I find myself restless and cooking is one of my hobbies, as you know. Move along, now.”
The sinner didn’t push more, guessing that being forced around was the last thing Angel Dust wanted. Instead, he walked towards the kitchen and started to take ingredients out of the fridge to prepare vin brulé and pesto. By the time he got the drink ready and the pasta boiled, the other demon had made his appearance in the room, sitting in a chair while still covered by the long coat.
A quick side look allowed Alastor to fully take in the extension of the marks on the actor; green and purple bruises on the corner of his lips, blurry make-up and rope marks on his wrists, among other details. He repressed a shiver at the mere idea of what he may had endured that night. In comparison to him, the Radio Demon should considered himself lucky.
“Hey, Al?” Angel Dust all but muttered when he left the vin brulé in front of him. “Can I make you a question?”
“Well, I believe you already are!” he chuckled, turning around to continue cooking.
“Yeah, well, I mean…”
“I know what you meant, dear! Go ahead, inquire as much as you want and I’ll see if an answer is possible.”
Instead of taking the weird opportunity —Alastor was not somebody who often allowed interrogatories—, the other sinner remained silent for a moment, playing with the fingers of two of his hands.
“Do you… Do you think I can be redeemed?” he finally asked, surprising him in all accounts. “I-I mean… Even if I try, as someone who knows about deals, would it be possible to… Even if Valentino owns me?”
What a question that was, indeed.
In other circumstances, Alastor may had mocked him, or simply ignored the questioning as it was not of his interest. The broken tone in his voice, together with the… empathy he seemed to have suddenly developed for the other resident, inclined him to be honest.
“I’m afraid I cannot give a definite answer, my dear fellow” the Radio Demon admitted. “I cannot dare to presume knowing how soul-deals are handled when in conflict with Heaven’s interest. Wouldn’t angelic power overrule any silly deal made in Hell? That is, of course, assuming you achieve redemption by no deadly means, whereas if you die… It would be safe to assume that in that case your soul would be freed and therefore capable of reach Heaven.”
Pouring the well prepared pesto on a plate, he offered it to Angel Dust with a fork and a napkin. Despite his initial hesitation to accept the offer, the demon started to dig in almost immediately.
“So, you’re saying my options here are to die and hope I do so in a way that earns me redemption, or keep living as… as Val’s toy until Heaven considers me a candidate, whenever that is?”
Truly a sad predicament, and one of the many reasons why Alastor had zero interest in ‘redeeming’ himself. Apart from the obvious fact that he didn’t regret any of the sins he had committed in life to end up in Hell, of course.
“I suppose so” he said, changing his tone before adding: “However, things in Hell can shift rather fast, Angel Dust. Valentino may not own you forever.”
The other sinner chuckled as he shook his head, obviously not believing his words. Alastor, however, had started to form a plan in his mind. Something so good, so pleasant to think about, that he could not avoid feeling stupid for not coming up with it before.
He may not have permission to torture and kill Vox, but he knew other ways to hurt him.