Archive of Our Own

The screaming rain interrupts Vox’s laugh, makes him flinch. »The fuck? What the fuck was that?«

No one answers. Valentino and Velvette are busy dolling up Angel Dust with practised motions. Angel himself is far away and as soon as the other Vees wordlessly leave the room, Vox pays him no heed anymore. Instead he sinks onto one of the couches, laughs quietly. »Can you believe it, Al? Everything is coming up Vox.«

»Hmm,« is all Alastor contributes.

But Vox doesn’t need him to hold a conversation. »And to think you could have been part of all this. A ruler of Heaven, a god. Bet you feel fucking stupid now for rejecting me.«

»A part of this?« Alastor asks and it’s infuriating how regal he manages to look bound to an office chair. »Like the other Vees are a part of this?«

Vox frowns. »What’s that supposed to mean?«

»Well, I’m just saying. From an outside perspective it almost seems like all they do is obey, when they clearly want to be co-piloting this revolution. All your propaganda sounds less like people should follow the Vees, and more like they should follow Vox and the other two.«

Vox leans back on the couch with a scoff. »Whatever.«

»I wonder when they’ll notice,« Alastor muses, »that they’re as much your pawns as all the others.«

»Bullshit.« Vox’s mouth turns down. He doesn’t have to listen to this when all his plans are so close to coming to fruition.

»Oh?« Alastor cocks his head. »So you’re not the mastermind? Was this all their idea? Did they just need a face for their revolution?«

Fuck, he should have gagged that fucking deer. Or just killed him, maybe. He’s ruining the mood. Vox jumps up, towers over his prisoner. »Don’t be ridiculous. Val hasn’t thought about anything other than sex in his whole afterlife and Vel would rather design new dresses than rule Heaven. In fact, neither of them had any vision before I convinced them this was a good idea.«

Alastor grins broadly. Despite his sitting position it feels like he’s looking down on Vox. He hates it with a passion. »I see. Admit it, then, my dear. You’re lying when you say you’ll rule together.«

Vox says nothing. Instead, his claws sink into the armrests of the chair, almost snapping them clean through. Lightning flashes outside, closely followed by a scream.

»Have you ever had an honest conversation in your whole life? Or death, for that matter.«

Yes. Vox grits his teeth. He refuses to give Alastor the satisfaction of saying it, but it seems the Radio Demon has read his mind.

»I can think of one occasion. When you poured your heart out to me, all vulnerable. That was real, wasn’t it, Vincent?«

Electricity crackles between his antennas, makes Alastor’s hair begin to float. There’s a pressure building in Vox’s chest, a storm waiting to be released.

»I can only imagine how it must have felt,« Alastor continues, »to see all your dreams shatter. You know, at the time I thought you were merely making a business proposal. But that wasn’t all, right? I wish I’d known. Then I could have appreciated the true scope of your patheticness.«

»Shut UP!« The words obliterate the dam of Vox’s self-control and rage rushes out like a flood. A current springs free, running through the chair and making Alastor snap his mouth shut. Cracks grow through the window front and lightning flashes dramatically in time with Vox’s heaving breaths. »Shut up,« he snarls, quieter. »You’re right. I was being honest. For once in my fucking existence I was being honest, and you fucking laughed in my face.« He can still feel his heart breaking in his chest. Hates the way his voice broke. He keeps that memory in a special folder, as a reminder to never let that happen again. With anyone. »I wish I’d killed you that day,« Vox continues in a low voice, face very close to Alastor’s. »But since I didn’t, I’ll use the opportunity to make you regret it.«

»Being alive?« Alastor asks, still smiling that cruel smile. »Or rejecting your heart?«

»Both,« Vox breathes. »I’ll kill that little friend of yours first. Niffty, was it? The one you included in our deal?«

And finally, finally the Radio Demon is showing some real emotions: His ears pin back, his eyes narrow.

Vox smiles. »Then the other short one, with the loud voice. And when I’m done with her, I’ll end your Rosie.«

That’s an interesting expression on Alastor’s face. Vox makes a mental note.

»But you know what I’ll leave for last? Your little pet project. I will rip that stupid hotel apart and I won’t even have to lift a finger.« His smile widens, pixelated red running from his mouth. »I won’t lay a hand on dear Charlie, per our deal. But I don’t fucking have to.« His gaze wanders to Angel Dust, who’s still standing there motionlessly, eyes swirling red and black.

He expects Alastor to snarl, to fight his restraints, to argue – really, he should have worded their deal better. But the Radio Demon does none of that. Instead, he sighs. Like Vox is a stupid child. »Oh, Vox. Angel isn’t yours.«

»What?«

»Well, he’s Valentino’s!«

»Same thing,« Vox snarls.

Alastor raises an eyebrow. »Are you sure? How about you check on your friends.«

Vox frowns, but there’s a spark of anxiety in his chest that makes him pull up the security feed from inside V-Tower. Being around Alastor with his warring frequencies makes it harder to concentrate on his net of information, harder to concentrate in general. So it takes Vox a moment to understand, to fully get what has happened.

To see that his own technology betrayed him. That Alastor has been broadcasting their conversation to the speakers in Vel’s living room, where she and Val went for a drink after they were done with Angel.

With a furious yell Vox cuts off the transmission.

»What do you think, Vox? Will your team forgive you for treating them like irrelevant underlings?«

»They wouldn’t betray me,« Vox says, but the confidence in his voice is an act. In his mind, he sees Alastor laughing at him in that bar. His heart stills in his chest.

»And what if they do?« Shadows begin to dance over Alastor’s arms and shoulders. »You’re nothing without them. You need them. I warned you that there are no friends in Hell, but you didn’t listen to me. Because inside, you’re still that scared, hurt little boy, the one no one wanted. Not your parents, not the viewers on TV, not even your own cult! They were so sick of you that they ended up killing you!«

Vox flinches, takes a step back. His eyes fill almost his whole screen and the red light makes Alastor’s shadows look like they’re dancing over blood.

That’s not true, he wants to say. His followers loved him. But only until they didn’t.

»What do you think will happen when Velvette and Valentino abandon you?« Alastor asks. His tone is almost soft, as if he’s genuinely worried, which only makes the blow land harder.

Vox stares at him. »You made them turn away from me. That’s why you agreed to be captured.«

»Oh, no.« Alastor’s eyes are glowing now, ticking red radio dials. »That, my dear Vincent, might be the only thing you’ve ever accomplished completely on your own.«

»No,« Vox says, but it sounds like a plea.

»If anything I would say I… inspired them to act in their own best interests.«

You’re inspiring.

Vox takes a step back. He doesn’t need to breathe, but still it feels like he’s suffocating.

»What do you think? How long will it take until the other overlords turn on you as well? I mean, they’ve always thought you were weak. The only reason they follow you in the first place is because you allegedly defeated me. Your friends can tell them exactly what happened. That I gave myself up. Makes you sounds a lot less powerful.«

»I…«

»And don’t even get me started on your secret weapon. Your agreement with Carmilla is tentative at best. She will be the first to leave, but by far not the last.« The cables binding Alastor fall away. Vox isn’t sure if the shadows cut them or if he just lost control over them. It hardly matters. »Velvette and Valentino leave. The overlords leave. Most sinners will be smart enough to follow. And then… well, I guess that leaves you and a handful of sinners you can mind control at the same time against Heaven! I mean, you’ve already declared war. There’s no going back from that. You will be first on their hit list.«

Vox’s lungs have figured out how to draw in air, but there isn’t enough in the room. His vision swims, tints black at the edges. The Alastor on the chair keeps switching back and forth with the Alastor in the bar. Each of his words is like a knife and… Vox should have realised earlier the power the Radio Demon still has over him. Panic threatens to drown him. All he can see is Alastor, slowly rising from his chair. All he can do is retreat, until his legs hit a couch.

»It’s a shame you don’t believe in redemption,« Alastor drawls. »Because I don’t know how else you can come out of this alive. Well, as alive as a dead man can be.«

»I’m still a fucking overlord,« Vox gets out.

»And Adam was the First Man,« Alastor returns. »Look where opposing the hotel and the princess got him.« He raises an eyebrow and pretends to inspect his claws. »You could surrender, of course. Our dear Mrs. Morningstar is not big on killing. You could be sitting in a therapy circle with her again in no time.«

»Over my fucking corpse,« Vox snarls. Finally, there’s anger. Drowning out the fear. The picture Alastor conjured in his mind.

Alastor smiles. »That can be arranged,« he says in a low voice.

Vox balls his fists. »Try it.«

For a long moment they stare at each other, shadows crawling over Alastor’s coat and electricity flickering around Vox.

Then Alastor simply shrugs and sits back down in his chair. »I’m just your prisoner.«

There is no time to think of a response, because in that moment Vox’s cameras tell him Lucifer arrived at the planned location.

»Velvette, Valentino, get into position,« Vox projects into the room where they’re still sitting.

Velvette raises her eyes at the camera. »And where would you like your pawns to go, V?«

And Alastor can’t hear them in the other room two floors down, at least Vox thinks he can’t, but with perfect timing he whispers, »You’ve been a bad friend, my dear.«

»Come on, Velvette,« Vox says with a forced laugh. »You know I want us to rule Heaven together.«

»Is that so?«

»Yes! Why do you think I picked you, both of you? Because we match! We work well together.«

»When you’re not being a dick,« Valentino throws in.

»Yeah, yeah. Minor disagreements aside. I obviously want you with me when we enter the Pearly Gates.«

Valentino, Satan bless him, looks almost convinced. Velvette is another matter. Vox is about to say more, when Alastor interrupts.

»It sounds like you’re begging, my dear. That’s not a good look on you.«

»I’m not begging,« Vox snarls.

»They think you’re weak.«

»They don’t.«

»I think you are. Why should they be any different?«

Fuck, why does that still hurt? Vox straightens. He’s not weak.

»Velvette, Valentino, get your asses into position. Lucifer is there.«

»Or what?« Velvette asks with narrowed eyes.

Alastor rolls his chair closer to Vox. »She doesn’t think you can do it on your own. She thinks you need them.«

With a yell Vox grabs the front of Alastor’s coat, eye swirling both on his face, as well as on the TV in Velvette’s living room. »You will shut up,« he says slowly, »and do whatever the fuck I say.«

Alastor’s grin widens.

In the other room, Velvette stares at the screen with glazed eyes until Val shakes her and snaps her out of it. »We’re done being your pawns, Vox,« he hisses at the camera, acid in his tone. Fucking blind moth.

Vox wants to stop them, could stop them from leaving V-Tower, they can’t teleport after all and he is the only one who has the lockdown codes.

But Alastor has started to laugh, loud and cruel, so instead Vox gives him another shock to shut him up.

He doesn’t need the other Vees. Alastor is wrong, so fucking wrong. Vox lets the Radio Demon go and he falls back in his chair, hair singed at the tips and smoking. He looks pathetic, actually. And yet the smile is still on his face when he says, »If you’ve made me regret one thing, it’s ever associating with you at all.«

Vox can’t believe he let the words of this fucking deer get to him. His opinion doesn’t mean anything at all.

There’s that pressure in his chest again, but it releases as a laugh, cold and tinged with madness. »I don’t fucking need any of you!« Vox screams, at the Radio Demon, the other Vees, all of Hell. He doesn’t, he doesn’t.

It doesn’t matter if he’s wanted. Vox can settle for being feared. And, oh, he’ll make them afraid. They will know what it is to cower, with a shadow looming, impending doom. They’re all just little fish in his aquarium but he’s the shark, the puppeteer, Hell’s Seraphim.

In his cult, Vox spoke as the voice of God. He’s aiming for a step up now.

When he’s done, Vox will be God.