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When Vox finally gives into the all consuming temptation to track Alastor down after the big, dramatic, ex termination day show-down, he’s in rough shape. So much so that he doesn’t notice Vox's approach, not even when he’s standing right above him. Something very unusual for a man who Vox had been previously convinced was impossible to sneak up on.
For a few terrifying moments, Vox thinks that Alastor is truly, permanently, dead.
The idea is so alarming that he is momentarily frozen, trying to decide whether or not to check for a pulse to confirm or deny, or to run for the hills and pretend he’d never seen any of this. The slight, barely visible rise and fall of Alastor’s chest stops him from having to make that decision.
He relaxes, somewhat, but can’t shake the unease that this whole situation brings him. Because despite his glee at seeing Adam cut Alastor open, live from his own camera drones, something about this feels terribly wrong.
Alastor was strong. Maddeningly, undeniably, beautifully, strong. It was a firm fact of his afterlife. There were few things in hell that Vox could trust in as strongly as Alastor’s strength, his invulnerability.
So seeing him… like this, it was unsettling, to say the least.
Alastor was slumped on the floor of his own ruined radio tower, the wall behind his back being the only thing keeping him somewhat upright. He was surrounded by a puddle of his own blood. It seeped out still from the wound that stretched across his torso, and the hand that was pressed to it did little to stem the flow. It wasn’t the first time Vox had seen the other soaked in blood, but it was the first time it was Alastor’s own.
The wound itself was grisly, a proper gore-show, even without Vox being able to see the extent of the damage in the dim red light of the broken tower. It was massive, and deep. If Alastor was a human still, he’d have bleed out by now.
He was unconscious, or at the very least out of it enough that he seemingly still hadn’t noticed Vox’s presence. He didn’t look peaceful though, as Vox had often imagined he would asleep. Pain was clear on his sharp face. His large eyes are closed, and his trademark smile is close-lipped and tight, but still there. It was kinda eerie, actually, and Vox is reminded a bit of an abandoned doll.
“Alastor?” He calls, hating how nervous his voice comes out. There’s no reaction from the demon on the floor.
He hesitantly pokes one of Alastor’s legs with the tip of his shoe.
His red eyes immediately snap open, and Vox takes a reflexive step back.
Alastor peers up at him through narrowed eyes, and his smile widens in a flash of sharp teeth.
“Well hello Vox! What a debatably pleasant surprise to see you here, in my tower!”
Vox starts at the sound of Alastor’s real voice, without any of the usual distortion. His eyes glance to where Alastor’s microphone staff lay, still broken, on the ground by his feet. He’d always wondered just how much of Alastor’s power was stored in that thing.
“You’ll have to excuse my lack of manners as your host if I don’t offer you any refreshments, and in return I’ll excuse your lack of manners in coming by unannounced, and uninvited.” Alastor says, voice full of false politeness and cheer.
Vox scowled down at him, arms crossing over his chest, hating that even in a situation like this he couldn’t shake the slight admiration he felt at how quickly the other demon could pull himself together, at his inherent charm.
Now that he was awake, Alastor’s shadow was up too, lurking distractingly around them.
“Oh Alastor, is that really the way you should be speaking to the only person who can help you right now?” He shot back.
Seeing the oh so great and powerful Radio Demon like this, broken and bloody on the ground at Vox’s feet, fully dependent on his mercy, was something straight out of one of his fantasies, and he couldn’t even enjoy it because he was too worried that the bastard might actually die.
“Is that what you’re here for?” Alastor asked curiously. “To save me? How very noble of you!” He fluttered his eyelashes in a way that had Vox scowling again, irritated by the mocking but still somewhat flustered at the sight all the same. “Why, all you need is a sword and white horse and it would be perfect!”
When Alastor had regained awareness of his surroundings, (which was a bit dismaying, as he hadn’t realized he’d lost awareness) and had seen Vox of all people standing above him, he’d been somewhat surprised, but not fully so. It was hardly the first time Vox has come chasing after him, afterall.
He couldn’t deny that he was somewhat pleased to see him here. Although he loathed to show any amount of vulnerability to anyone, let alone a rival overlord, going off the amount of the pain he was in, and the fact that he’d lost consciousness without realizing it or meaning too, his situation was a bit… worse than he had originally assumed. He, unfortunately, didn’t seem able to get himself out of the situation himself.
He’d prefer the help of Charlie and her naive selflessness over the circling for weakness vulture that was Vox, but he could work with what he had.
“I wouldn't be so irreverent if I were you” Vox practically spat, “I could be here just to finish you off myself.”
“Are you?” Alastor asks, amused at the idea.
“I could be!”
“But are you?” He repeats. Vox glares down at him.
“No.” He admits, tersely. Alastor laughs. Laughing currently hurts quite a bit, but the expression on Vox’s face makes the pain worth it. Oh, he had forgotten how fun talking to Vox could be in the seven years he had been gone! He was so expressive, so reactive, so easy to bother!
That entertaining expression unfortunately soon smooths out, and Vox crouches down in front of him, bringing them eye to eye. His pixelated face is a mixture of anticipation and smugness, and is topped off by a salesman’s slick smile.
“I’m not here to help you either though.”
Alastor raises a single eyebrow, and waits for the other to continue. Looking straight at Vox was currently a bit headache inducing, his screen seeming to glow even brighter than normal in the otherwise dim tower, he always loathed to be the one to break eye contact though, a sign of weakness, so he endured.
“At least not for free.” Vox’s smile grows, and Alastor’s tightens. “Let’s make a deal.”
Alastor’s expression remains unreadable, but internally he curses. Making deals when he was the one at a disadvantage was something he typically avoided at all costs. One such deal was the reason he was in this mess, after all. And he was, undeniably, at a disadvantage right now. Vox held all the cards, and from that self/satisfied expression, he knew it.
“A deal?” He repeats, tone purposely mild.
Vox nods eagerly. “Yes, a deal. I help you not die…” Vox gestures at his torso, as pauses for dramatic effect. “…and you join the Vees.” he finishes, looking rather pleased with himself, the cat who had the canary in its jaws.
Alastor laughs again. His entire body burns with white hot pain from it, but he can’t help himself. After all this time, that was still what Vox was after? He had Alastor at his total mercy, and what he was asking for was for him to join his silly little group? What a fool…
“Is that really-”
“I wasn’t finished.” Vox cuts him off, looking somewhat offended by his laughter, but still eager over the situation and the rare advantage he held over Alastor. “You join the Vees, and I get your soul.”
Alastor freezes.
“Oh come on Alastor, don’t make that face! It wouldn’t be bad, you’d make a fantastic addition to the Vees, I’ve always thought so!” Vox enthuses, like he’s in one of his commercials or press conferences, peddling some product to the public. “And I wouldn't treat you badly… Or at least not too badly. You’d be so much better off with the Vees, with me, then you could ever be at that stupid hotel of yours. It would be fantastic!”
Vox finishes his pitch with a charming smile, his hand already held out, ready to be shaken, as if Alastor had already agreed.
“No.” Alastor says simply, as soon as Vox is finished speaking.
“No?” Vox repeats incredulously, that winsome smile immediately crumbling. Alastor is reminded of the time he’d first said no to partnering up with Vox, all those many years ago. Vox hadn’t taken that rejection well… And based on the way Alastor can see the corners of his screen glitching with anger, that is not a flaw that he has improved. “What the fuck do you mean, no?” He demands, fuming.
“I mean,” Alastor says slowly, enunciating his words, “No.”
“You’re dying! Literally dying! No one but me knows that you’re here, none of your little hotel friends know, since they’re not here, and you’re obviously too weak to save yourself or we wouldn’t be having this conversation! I’m the only one who can help you!” Vox snarls. “What, you’d rather fucking die than give me your soul?”
Alastor shrugs in response, and Vox actually looks hurt. Hilarious!
Vox leans in closer, and grabs Alastor by the shoulders as if to shake him, and Alastor can’t repress his whimper of pain at the jarring motion. He tastes blood in his mouth. Vox releases him as quickly as if he’d been burned, expression shuttering between fury and concern. His hands hover awkwardly over Alastor, before returning to his sides, clenched into angry fists.
“Do you think I’m bluffing, or something? Is that what this is?” Vox barks, a note of something desperate in his voice. “Because I am not bluffing! If you don’t agree, I’ll let you bleed out here, and I’ll make sure how all the headlines and articles cover just how pathetic your death was. Don’t think that I won’t!”
Alastor snickers softly. Vox is definitely bluffing. He knows it. Vox knows it. The TV overlord was far too obsessed with him to let him die here. Alastor blinks back a wave of dizziness, vision going black for a moment as he fights to stay conscious. He looks down at his hands, at the blood soaking them, the blood soaking his entire front. His blood.
Well!
Vox’s obvious bluff aside, they were running out of time to continue this discussion. The decision of whether or not he’d continue living would soon forcibly be taken out of both of their hands. And as amusing as the thought of the bitter tears Vox might cry over him may be, Alastor didn’t actually want to die here.
“Even if that was true…” Alastor starts when he can (mostly) see clearly again, voice starting to sound a bit horse.
“It is true!” Vox snaps.
“I would unfortunately have to report that I’m unable to accept your proposal.” Alastor continues on as if Vox hadn’t interrupted. “My soul is…” He chews the words, hesitating, shame and anger swirling in him, “...not mine to bargain with. Currently.”
Despite the rage that that fact brought him, he does enjoy Vox’s reaction to it. Wide-eyed shock. Anger. Disbelief. Jealousy. Then back around to anger again. “W-what?” He sputtered. “You can’t mean…” his voice trails off. “Who?”
“That, is none of your business.” Alastor drawls, watching as angry sparks flashed around Vox’s head. The lights in the room flicker, and he wouldn’t be surprised if all the lights in the area were flickering as well. His hands were beginning to feel cold, despite the warmth of his blood.
His whole body felt cold actually, now that he thought about it. When had he started shivering? That couldn't be a good sign, could it?
“The fuck it isn’t! You are my business.” Vox snarls. “You’re lying, you must be! If someone had you on a leash, I would have heard about it! No one would own you and not be bragging about it! You’re trying to trick me, aren't you?” he rages.
Well, there was a fun visual at what Vox owning his soul would entail. Bragging. How boorish.
Alastor shakes his head no slowly. His head felt unusually heavy, and it was starting to become a struggle to keep it upright. “I’m not.” His eyelids were quite heavy too. He lets them slide closed, starting to give into the bone deep exhaustion fighting to claim him.
“Hey!” Vox hisses, sounding rather panicked. “Stop that! Keep your eyes open!”
When Alastor doesn’t respond, he snaps his fingers in front of his face. “Alastor!”
He reluctantly forces his eyes back open, and squints back at Vox. Ugh, so bright.
“Okay, okay… fuck. I can still work with this!”
‘Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Alastor asks dryly, the bite of the taunt lessened by the way his words were beginning to slur.
Vox ignores him. Rude.
“New deal! I save you, and I get your soul back from whoever the fuck has it, and then you sign it over to me.” Vox says, conviction clear on his face and voice.
Alastor blinks at him. He really was quite determined, wasn’t he? It was flattering, in a way. But that could also be the influence of the bloodloss speaking.
“And you have to tell me who has it, and you have to work with me. No trying to slink off and get out of the deal by making it so I don’t have a chance.” Vox adds on quickly.
Alastor makes an amused noise at that. Vox knowing a name wouldn’t help him stand anymore of a chance. How stupidly arrogant of him, to assume he’d be able to take on someone who’d bested Alastor himself.
“And why would I agree to that?” He asks, tone curious. “Why would I agree to trading one leash for another?”
“You’d agree” Vox says firmly, looking Alastor straight in the eyes, “Because it’s your only option.” His hand is once again held firm out in front of him, ready to be shaken.
Alastor laughs, the sound harsh and bark-like. “Well, when you put it like that...” His voice is beginning to sound weak and strained. “I suppose I’m had, old pal.”
He attempts to lift his hand, but can only raise it a few inches before it drops back to the floor. Vox watches, focused.
Alastor sighs.
“I can’t-”
“You can! Just say yes Alastor.”
“No, I mean I can’t-”
“You have too, It’s your only-”
“Vox. I can’t lift my hand.” Alastor interrupts, annoyance and frustration clear in his tone.
“Oh!” Vox exclaims, surprised. He immediately scoops Alastor’s hand from the ground, and they shake on it. Well, Vox shakes both of their hands. On Alastor’s end, it’s more of a slight squeeze than anything, yet he can still feel the chains of a new deal locking into place.
Vox whoops loudly in delight, and Alastor winces at the volume of it. Alastor’s shadow watches from the walls in disapproval.
“Fuck yes! I knew that you’d finally see reason, oh this is going to be so great-” Alastor swoons forwards into Vox, finally losing the battle to stay upright. His forehead lands heavily against Vox’s chest with a dull thud. “-OH! Oh shit! Yeah, shit, you’re still dying, okay…”
Vox looks around the room frantically. “Fuck, how do you not have a single screen in this entire place?”
Alastor doesn’t bother answering beyond a scoff.
Vox takes his phone out of a pocket in his coat, turns it on, and lays it flat on the ground. He then scoops Alastor up into his arms, without any gentleness whatsoever. Alastor moans in pain.
“Don’t die!” Vox demands, looking down at Alastor’s pained expression. His face looks even paler than usual, and his eyes were barely open, just slits of red. “Not when I’m so close to finally having you!”
He stands, more carefully now. Alastor still shudders in pain. Vox looks down at his phone. Traveling with a passenger would be difficult, but doable. And very necessary. There wasn’t much, if anything he could do to help Alastor here.
Vox wasn’t a doctor by any stretch, and wasn’t particularly good at even minor first aid.
But he had money. A lot of money.
He just had to get them out of here, and back to Voxtech, and he could call for a doctor. Hell, he’d hire a fleet of doctors if that’s what it would take.
And then kill them all afterwards, of course. There couldn’t be any witnesses. Anyone else knowing that the Radio Demon was in a weakened state, and where he could be found in said weakened state wasn’t ideal. Alastor had too many enemies, too many admirers. Vox would not be having someone else swooping in and stealing his prize before he could even get his teeth into it
Vox pauses, just about to step into the phone. There was still a very important piece of information that he didn’t. One that wouldn’t help the current situation, but one that he had to know immediately.
“So, who owns your soul?” He asks, voice purposely blasé, as if he wasn’t already plotting the demise of the unknown demon. “I’d like to know who I’ll be up against. And you have to tell me now, remember our deal?”
Alastor's smile widens, with a cruel sort of amusement.
“Lilith.”
Alastor answers, then unfortunately passes out before he gets to see Vox’s reaction to that bit of information.