Chapter Text
It had been months since Niffty died. Months since Charlie had split Alastors chains, and allowed him to be himself. A version of himself he’d lost decades ago. It had been a difficult adjustment to say the least. Not just for himself, but for the hotel residents as well. At first, they’d been quiet and shy around him. Slowly they started to warm up to him. No longer stuck with a permanent smile across his face, he was more approachable.
He’d admitted to Charlie that he was open to the idea of redemption. When the shackles had been tightened around his neck, the idea was like a fantastical fairy tale. Now that he’d gained a bit of free will, the idea sounded more achievable. If he were honest with himself, a little part of him hoped to see his mother again. He knew she’d be in heaven. There was no way she wasn’t.
Redemption would have to come later though. Today he had a mission. For as wonderful and refreshing as the new voice in his head was, the old radio demon was still there. A persistent nagging in the back of his mind. Niffty would’ve been proud of the person he was becoming, but she’d always want him to hold onto the monster he once was. She always did like the “Bad boys”.
He walked down the streets of Hell, his face mostly obscured by the hood of his red sweatshirt. His glimmer of freedom had sparked a sudden urge to change up his usually neat and old fashioned wardrobe. Charlie and Angel had been more than happy to help him, and introduced him to the whimsical world of online shopping. The hoodie had been Charlie’s idea. There was nothing special about it. It was just plain and red, but it was comfortable. The pants were from Angel. At first, when Angel Dust said he was going to help order some clothes, Alastor quickly declined. He knew the kind of outfits the spider demon wore and it just wasn’t his style. Thankfully, Angel wasn’t pulling one of his pranks this time and seemed to put genuine thought into what he purchased. These were just black jeans. Nice enough to suit Alastors wants, but comfortable enough to match his new personality.
A few imps stared at him as he walked past and he pulled the hood over his face more. While he was alright with his friends at the hotel knowing about his recent shift, he wasn’t quite ready for the rest of Hell to know. He hadn’t been out of the hotel in a long time, but this was something that needed to be done. And he couldn’t do it alone.
***
Late in the afternoon, Vox entered the dark living room of the V Tower. He reached for the light switch on the wall, but paused, listening carefully.
There was music playing.
Not music the kind of music he’d often find Velvette listening to, but slower music. Older music.
Cautiously, Vox stepped further into his own home, finding the gramophone Valentino had insisted on keeping. A record spun round and round, the jazz song pouring out delicately. He reached for the needle slowly.
We’ll meet again. Don’t know where, don’t know whe-
The song stopped abruptly as Vox removed the needle from the record. He let out a sigh, feeling himself relax.
“But I know we’ll meet again, some sunny day!” Came a haunting transatlantic accident from behind him, sending a shiver up Vox’s spine.
He spun around as the lamp in the corner flicked on, revealing his nemesis waiting patiently in Valentino’s favorite chair with his legs crossed.
“Alastor,” Vox sputted. His TV screen face flickering with rage. He stepped forward slowly, standing straight and tall.
“So you’ve come here, into my own home, to challenge me!” The television demon laughed.
He failed to notice the black tentacle that shot up from the floor by his feet. It swung as he got closer, knocking him off of his balance. He landed screen first into the floor with a grunt.
“Trust me old friend, if I wanted to hurt you, I’d have done so already.” Alastor chuckled.
Vox looked up, prepared to argue with the radio demon, but he paused, suddenly taking in his appearance.
Alastor’s hair was frizzy and had been lazily pulled back into a ponytail, leaving only his ears -they had to be ears- to stand by his antlers. He had dark circles under his dull eyes. The most concerning part was the fact that his golden fanged smile was absent. A neutral and tired expression on his face.
“You look like shit.” Vox commented, pulling himself off the floor.
Alastor rolled his eyes and leaned back in the chair. “I didn’t come here for you to insult me,” He hissed.
“Then you shouldn’t have come here.” Vox laughed, “I’ve waited years for you to lose some of that majestic fanciful appearance so that I could drag you through the mud. Oh! I need a camera, I should be recording this!”
Alastor raised an eyebrow, his blank expression unchanging.
“Right… Cameras don’t work on you.” Vox sighed, “Cause you’re weird.”
“Can you possibly act dignified for long enough for me to tell you why I’m here?” Alastor sighed. “It was very difficult for me to come here, and you’re making me regret it.”
Vox narrowed glowing eyes at the radio demon. There was no way what he thought was happening was actually happening, was it?
“I…” Alastor took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. Clearly struggling to find the words. “I need… I need your help.” He looked back up.
It took every ounce of control in his body not to burst into a fit of laughter. He needed to keep his composure. He’d waited years for an opportunity like this and he couldn’t fuck it up now.
“So,” He cleared his throat, “You’ve come to bargain with me, then?” He asked with a sly smile.
“No,” Alastor replied, hidden ears pinning back.
“Then I’m not interested.” Vox rubbed his nails on his suit and looked them over.
“Just listen,” Alastor sighed, “You’ve got eyes in every camera and screen in Pride. I just need you to help me identify some demons who went bowling a few months ago. I tried to get the security footage from the bowling alley but their systems already deleted it. You’re my last option.”
“Oh wow, I’m flattered.” Vox said sarcastically.
“It’s important,” Alastor growled.
“As important as your soul?” Vox smirked, leaning forward.
Alastor didn’t look amused. “I’m not interested in selling my soul to you, Vox, but I was expecting you to want something in return.”
“Fuck yeah I want something in return. Shits not free,” Vox rolled his eyes.
Alastor stood up and walked around the room, taking in the photos on the wall and trying to look at anything except for vox.
“I’m willing to give you something other than my soul. A confession. One that I don’t want you to spread around.”
Vox blinked several times. He knew that a confession wasn’t worth nearly as much as a soul. Yet, the idea that he'd have access to one of the radio demons' secrets was intriguing to say the least.
“How embarrassing is this confession?” He asked.
“For me? Extremely,” Alastor shrugged.
Vox bit his tongue. This was stupid, but he needed to know so badly.
“Fine!” He sighed. “Tell me your dumb secret and I’ll consider getting you the security footage.”
Alastor let out a sigh. “Princess Morningstar has been insisting that I take part in her group activities lately. This, unfortunately, includes a “movie night” with the others every Friday,” He explained. “As badly as I hate it, and as much as it kills me inside to tell you this, some of your infernal picture-box shows aren’t so bad.”
Vox blinked. “Oh my God… That was… Literally the best information you could’ve ever given me!” He practically screamed the last part.
“Tell me tell me! Which show do you like best?” He asked, bouncing excitedly on his toes.
“That’s not part of the deal.” Alastor complained.
“Tell me!” Vox demanded, unable to keep the girlish squeal out of his voice. He knew it was unprofessional to be acting this way, but he couldn’t contain his excitement. “Is it Yellowstone? It’s Yellowstone, isn’t it?”
Alastor cut his eyes at the television demon. “...Yes. It’s Yellowstone,” He admitted.
“I knew it!” Vox laughed.
“Okay, now shut up about it!” Alastor huffed, crossing his arms, “You’re acting like a starstruck teenage girl.”
“Sorry,” Vox cleared his throat and composed himself. “Right so, I suppose that information was satisfactory.” He snorted in an attempt to hold back his laughter. “Come with me.”