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Snow fell steadily to the ground muffling any noise as the citizens of Pentagram City went about their day. The only thing that Vox can hear is the distorted sound of snow crunching beneath steps. Steps that were quickly fading into the distance. He turns his head, his damaged screen flickering rapidly as if in complaint. Half of his face was obstructed, impairing his vision and affecting his audio processors. But he could still see the wisps of red disappearing into the fog. Alastor's tailcoat flapping in the wind, then out of sight.
A sob bubbles up in his chest, escaping him before he can stop it. His hand tightens, clutching at the snow beneath him desperately. He wants to laugh and in the same breath he wants to scream.
Alastor was supposed to say yes. He was supposed to agree to Vox's proposition. They were supposed to join forces together, to rule the entertainment district side by side. They would have been unstoppable between the amount of souls they owned between them. They could have taken Hell by storm, rising to the top with ease.
But Alastor had said no.
He had laughed in Vox's face and shrugged him off like he was nothing. An inconvenience at most. Vox thought that they were friends, thought that maybe, maybe they could be more. That they were going to be more. But he had gone and thrown all of that out the window. He had fucked up with the first word of anger spoken, the first punch thrown. He never stood a chance against Alastor. Who was he kidding? He was a fool.
A fool that was now bleeding out in the cold winter, watching his blood stain the snow red. He felt detached, like he wasn't in his body. As though he was observing himself dying. He'd respawn of course, a few hours later maybe. He'd be fine, the only thing truly harmed would be his pride.
But he had time before then, time to think; as he rapidly bled out from his many wounds. He lay there overthinking the events that led him here, misconstruing the words they shared. Their fight. Where had he gone wrong? Why did Alastor say no? Was it something he said? Was it him? Tears bite the corners of Vox's eyes, bubbling up and trailing down his face to splash against the ground. If he didn’t convince himself that this was Alastor’s fault soon, he would never recover from fucking up all they had.
“Actually, Al, I wanted to discuss something with you.” Vox said, his eyes shining in the light.
“Oh? What is it, old pal?” Alastor asked, as he sipped on his coffee.
Vox shifted in his seat, his excitement building. “You're a powerful demon, Alastor. You control the entirety of the Radio broadcasting world, and the amount of souls you hold is staggering.”
Alastor's eyes flashed, something akin to interest lighting up his face. “And? I'm certain you didn't just want to compliment me.”
Vox smirked, trying to ignore his rising annoyance as Alastor interrupted him. “I have something in the works and if you join us we’ll control the entire entertainment district.”
“Us?” Alastor asked, his smile strained at the corners as if it wanted to fall.
“Valentino, Velvette, and I.” Vox explained. “Think about it Al. Between the amount of souls all four of us own, we'd be powerful enough to rule over the entertainment district. We could rise to the top, take Hell by storm.”
Alastor hummed, “No thank you, old pal. I have better things to do than to entertain your…goons.”
Vox scoffed, “sorry, my “goons?’”
“Mhm.” Alastor took a long sip of his coffee. “Was that all? I have other things to attend to.”
“You didn’t even think about it.” Vox growled, “at least give it some thought.”
“I thought about it enough, I’m quite alright on my own. I advise you not to push the matter further, Vox.” Alastor’s voice held a note of finality, a sharp edge with a warning.
“That’s it?” Vox snapped, “You just don’t even think about it, you throw away the chance to be a big-shot, to rise above the masses? For what?”
Alastor’s eyes darkened, his tone low with warning, “Drop it, old pal.”
“No! I will not drop it, I want to know. Do I mean nothing to you? Does our friendship mean nothing to you?” Vox was angry, but he wasn’t sure if he was angry at himself or at Alastor.
He had truly thought Alastor would have said yes. Now his plans and his friend were slipping through his fingers, and he could do nothing about it but watch. He was scared, though he’d never admit that in a thousand years. Scared of losing Alastor, of losing the one person he trusted more than his Vees.
Alastor stood, “I suggest you stop talking before you make a fool of yourself, old pal. Now, good day.”
“Alastor! Don’t you dare fucking leave!” He snapped, surging to his feet as Alastor turned his back on him.
He reached for his hand, which the Radio Demon yanked away from him harshly.
“Do not touch me.” Alastor hissed, his eyes changing into radio dials. “Unless you want me to break your hand.”
Vox clenched his jaw, “I don’t take kindly to your threats, Alastor. ”
“If you are not careful, it will not be a threat, old pal. Now good day.” Alastor repeated sharply, leaving the coffee shop.
But Vox had never been one to leave well enough alone. He followed Alastor out of the coffee shop, continued to antagonize him, until his anger boiled over. He had thrown the first punch, causing Alastor’s blood to drip into the snow. The first drops of blood that would be spilled that night.
Vox had been a fool.