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Alastor had been lounging in his room at the hotel when he felt a tug around his neck. His stomach tightened with anxiety and hatred. What could his owner possibly want with him now? She normally contacted him through mundane means when her request wasn’t time-sensitive. With a sigh, he melted into the shadows and followed the pull of his leash.
The first sign that something was wrong was the location. Alastor was being led further into the city. For the sake of discretion, they had always met in the outskirts in the past, especially if there was urgent business to discuss. A break in the pattern couldn’t mean anything good.
He was suspicious when he arrived at a tall, fancy office building. This location wasn’t right. For the sake of his image, he could never be seen in a place like this. His owner wouldn’t sabotage his image this badly. It benefited her to have such a feared figure under her thumb.
His owner must have been getting impatient, because his leash was sharply tugged and he was reeled in like a fish on a hook to a room near the top floor, darkened by the fabric blinds covering the expansive windows.
He registered little else about the room as he emerged from the shadows, pulled out by the chain. He was too busy staring shell-shocked at its lone inhabitant.
Vox stood before him.
The world fell away as Alastor stared at the only light illuminating the dark room, emanating from Vox’s screen and the bright cyan chain in his hands. A chain that connected to Alastor’s neck as his collar became visible.
The silence in the room was as piercing as the cold glare fixed on him. It sent a chill down Alastor’s spine. He’d seen Vox with this expression before, but never directed at him. There was no warmth, no passion in his eyes. Just detached malice.
“Hello, Alastor,” Vox said, his voice low and measured.
Alastor swallowed roughly and inclined his head slightly in greeting. “Vox.”
Vox idly spun a length of the chain as he spoke. “I had an interesting conversation today. A surprising visitor dropped by my office. I wouldn’t have expected her to have need of my services, but I suppose information is a precious resource no matter who you are.”
He turned and paced a few steps. “The deal she offered was unexpected. I was ready to make my demands when she told me she had an asset she thought I would find tempting.” His eyes shift back to Alastor. “The Radio Demon.”
Alastor’s static spiked in the air. He glared at Vox, his smile stiff and his jaw tight. He didn’t know what reaction Vox was looking to get out of him, but he wasn’t going to get it.
Vox looked away again, still feigning disinterest. “Suddenly, it all made sense. Your dodgy behavior, your mysterious disappearance. And most of all…” Vox turned to face him. “Your power.”
Vox sneered at Alastor, his tone taking on an air of disdain and disgust. “The feared Radio Demon, who dropped into Hell with the power to slay Overlords… What a fucking farce.”
Alastor had to focus on the chain in Vox’s hands to remind himself that attacking Vox to shut him up was no longer an option.
“What do you want from me?” Alastor spat, not hiding an ounce of the contempt he felt for his new master.
Vox walked to an armchair in the corner of the room and sat down. “Not much, really. You’re too outdated to be of much use to me. Don’t get too excited, though. You’re not getting your soul back. You’ve already proven you can’t be trusted to be responsible for it.”
Alastor growled at the condescension. Vox pretended not to hear.
Vox crossed his legs and leaned on one of the armrests. “Just keep doing what you’re doing for now so no one gets suspicious. Don’t speak about me. I won’t speak about you. Frankly, the best thing you can do for me is to quietly stop opposing me. No one needs to know why. Rumors will spread and my reputation will benefit regardless.”
“That’s it?” Alastor asked, his suspicion obvious.
“Yeah. That’s it,” Vox said. “I have no use for a lying traitor who thinks he’s a god even though his Overlord status was handed to him on a silver platter.”
Furious beyond reason, Alastor lunged at Vox, who simply teleported out of his seat, leaving Alastor’s attack to slice pitifully through the fabric of the armchair.
“Gather what’s left of your dignity and get the fuck out of here,” Vox growled.
He turned away and Alastor heard him mutter, “The fact that I ever respected you makes me sick,” before he vanished into the wiring, leaving Alastor alone in the dark to marinate in his self-loathing.