Chapter Text
“...prêt-à-manger.”
The sigil lit up.
It worked! Alastor did not actually expect it this time either. It had been many futile attempts, and this newest copy of the summoning guide he managed to acquire after great lengths was damaged. There had been a few diagrams and sentences he had to fill in with some logical guesswork of his own. Now, according to the book, he should start hearing a voice emitting from the radio--
Hm. He may have fucked up slightly.
“Fuck, are you that incompetent that you can’t see-- the fuck?”
The first thing Alastor registered was how tall the demon was. The blue and glowing demon, if that was what it was, towered over him with a similarly bewildered look on what Alastor assumes to be his face, his sentence trailing off into shocked silence. The flat, rectangular screen the demon had in place of a head emitted such a bright glow, Alastor had to blink a few times to adjust to the sudden increase in light in his candlelit cabin. Wires protruded out of the demons back and strewed over the bloodstained floor.
Alastor had to admit, the demon looked nothing like his imagination. It was nice to know that people still wore tailored suits in hell, he supposed. It certainly quelled the small, irrational fear he had in the back of his head that robes were mandatory for whatever reason.
“...what the fuck? Where is this? Val? Velvette?” The demon swore, looking around cautiously at the dimly lit cabin strewn with decomposing bodies.
Well, he might as well get on with it.
“Welcome, o powerful demon from the afterlife! I have summoned you here--”
“What’s your name.”
The demon seemed to have finally snapped out of whatever confusion he was in, asking with sudden intensity. His eyes widened in disbelief, head tilted to one side with an expression like a cross between trying to recall something and utter stupefaction.
Alastor debated internally about giving out his name to a demon for a brief moment. Ma used to tell him stories about names having power when he was young, but surely this is beyond that already? He was planning on making a deal, after all.
“Alastor. I wish to make a deal, demon.”
The blue monstrosity’s eyes opened even wider, moving his face closer, eyes roaming across Alastor’s face like he was studying an impossible specimen under a microscope. Alastor fought the urge to take a step back. He had the most peculiar feeling, that the demon recognised him somehow.
After what felt like forever, the demon leaned back, his shocked expression morphing rapidly between an assortment of expressions too fast for Alastor to read, before settling into one of utter… glee?
“Tell me, Alastor, what year is this?” His name rolled off the demon’s tongue with strange emphasis, at once too familiar and foreign.
“1933, baby! And what a year it has been, I heard even the prohibition is ending soon!” Alastor exclaimed with faux cheeriness, determined to squash the uneasiness he had been feeling that only increased with every second being in the demon's presence. He was determined to be in control over the whole situation, but the unnerving feeling of the demon being more familiar with him than he was with him had been creeping up his back like a persistent chill.
The demon's grin stretched wider.
“1933! Good year, good year indeed! Do tell me, this is New Orleans, Louisiana, is it not?”
Alastor fought his urge to break eye contact and swallowed back the uneasiness. He nodded.
An expression of rapturous joy exploded across the demon's face before he schooled it down into a smug, confident smile.
“Call me Vox.”
.
Vox could not believe his luck.
It had been a typical day in hell. He had been trapped in a mind numbing meeting about whether to go forward with Angelic Security now that the Hazbin Hotel had actually fought off the Exorcist angels, surrounded by incompetent schmucks that were paid more than they were worth. The meeting had been going in circles, until Vox finally had enough and was about to tell everyone off and pick the most annoying employee to send them to Val to be shot for stress relief when he felt a strange pulling sensation, and the world spun on its axis.
Everything went dark for a moment, and the next thing Vox knew, he was standing in some sort of sigil circle in front of a… human?
Or at least, the most human looking sinner he had seen yet. The man stood before him, skin a rich shade of brown and hair curled with nary an animalistic or unnatural feature to be seen. He wore a red waistcoat, tie and small, black-framed, oval-shaped glasses. Vox shifted his focus from the man and to his surroundings.
Dead bodies littered the floor, each in varying states of decomposition. Strangely familiar looking sigils hung from the ceiling.
Huh. Maybe he was still in hell after all. Where the fuck had he seen those sigils before?
“...have summoned you here-”
Vox's attention never shifted so fast. Could that- was that- no fucking way?
“What is your name.”
Those rich, dulcet tones. That intonation and enunciation. Even without that radio filter, he would recognise that voice anywhere, everywhere. It haunted more of his waking thoughts and dreams than he would ever admit. Hung on to his every word back then (still do, his mind supplied unhelpfully), when he was still green and oh so naive. Vox re-examined the man with renewed fervour.
“Alastor. I wish to make a deal.”
And at once, everything fell into place.
In life and in death, Alastor seemed to have never changed his demeanour. The same trademark Cheshire smile, the same confident poise. Curly brown hair changed to a red bob with black tips, inviting brown eyes changed to pitch-black pupils with red sclera, but the essence of who Alastor was remained the same.
Alastor must have made some sort of deal while alive, allowing him to make that meteoric rise to the top that, to date, still holds the record as the fastest any sinner became an Overlord. Someone, in hell, had control over Alastor like a puppeteer with the strings of a marionette. The high and mighty Radio Demon, not so mysterious any more! Vox would almost be mad at the thought of Alastor being subservient to someone who was not him, but sheer, unbridled glee took over as the most naive version of Alastor stood right before him, offered up on a silver platter.
“1933, baby! And what a year it has been, I heard even the prohibition is ending soon!”
Once, a long, long time ago, Alastor and Vox got drunk together. They were together at Vox’s apartment, celebrating Vox’s successful launch of what used to be called VoxCorp. Alastor had been unusually cheery, insisting on continuing their celebration from the fancy restaurant they were at on Alastor’s turf at “somewhere more private”, leading them to end up drinking on Vox’s couch. It was the first time Vox saw Alastor absolutely inebriated. Before that night, Vox had thought it was impossible for Alastor to get plastered, it had just seemed so below Alastor.
They ended up talking late into the night, voices slurring and drinks sloshing. It was then Vox had revealed his human past to Alastor, his human name Vincent. Alastor had laughed up a storm, prodding at Vox’s old boxy head and calling him “Vinny”, giggling every time. It was also that night Alastor, for the first time, revealed details from his human past. That he died in the 1930s, that he was from New Orleans, Louisiana. That he used to be the top radio star, the toast to New Orleans.
“Maybe you even heard my broadcasts when you were alive!” Alastor had laughed. Vox had wished then, not for the first time, that he had met Alastor when he was still alive.
Today, his wish was granted.
.
Vox, as the demon called himself, adjusted his blue pinstriped suit slightly, before crossing his arm behind his back.
“Let me introduce myself! I am Vox, the all powerful demon, and I am here because of your summonings! You mentioned a deal, I believe?” He ended that sentence with a million-dollar grin, letting sparks dance across his palm.
Alastor hesitated. Before, he had scripted out the basics of what he was going to ask for, but nothing happening right now was going as planned. Instead of a voice, a full, physical demon materialised instead. One that seemed oddly familiar with him. Perhaps, he should approach this with more caution.
“I’m honoured to meet you, Vox!” Alastor exclaimed with a flourish, hands spread out in a welcoming gesture, hoping it would mask his nerves. “Indeed, I wish to make a deal with you! However, before that, I would like to verify just the… exact extent of your capabilities!” Alastor gestured vaguely at Vox’s head. “You know, you don’t look all too…typical! If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly is…that?”
Vox’s eyes narrowed for a fleeting moment, before he collected himself.
“Oh, this? It’s called a television! The future of media entertainment, baby! Just--”
In a crackle of electricity, Vox manifested right behind Alastor. “--a glimpse of what is coming soon in your time! How is that,” Vox waved his arms for extra emphasis, creating holographic displays of various charts around him, “for power!”
Alastor restrained himself from spinning around immediately. Slowly, he turned around, hoping that his poker face veiled his alarm well.
A television, huh? He had seen a picture of the picture box in the newspaper a month ago, the article promising it would revolutionise the future of entertainment. It looked like a boxy, clunky appliance, nothing like the sleek, flat screen of the demon’s head. Alastor would deduce that this demon, Vox, came from the future somehow, but he was not feeling the most confident in his logical guesses right now. After all, his “logical guesswork” had been what led him to this state in the first place, feeling like a fish out of water in the presence of an unnatural yet humanoid looking creature that looked to be far too familiar with him and much too pleased in general.
“Well,” Alastor started, “just how all-knowing are you, exactly? I would feel much more reassured if there was some proof provided.”
“Wh-”
“The deal I want to make is quite big, after all. I just,” Alastor interjected quickly, cutting Vox’s protests off, “don’t know if I can trust you to carry it out! You couldn’t possibly tell me the future, can you? How can you possibly know what will be the winning horse for tomorrow’s horse race?” Alastor let his usual smile slip into an easy smirk.
It was comical, Alastor thought, how Vox opened his mouth and narrowed his eyes in speechless anger, clearly revving himself up to fling insults at Alastor, only to freeze midway. His raised finger fell rigidly, as if forced down with great pain by himself. He turned around and walked a few steps forward, away from Alastor and hunching over what seemed like a glowing rectangle, blocking the view while muttering a rapid string of hushed swears all the while. Alastor could vaguely make out the words “insufferable” and “fucking obnoxious bastard”.
“Risen Star,” Vox made a grand display of the horse in a screen above him as he turned back around, “will be the winning horse for tomorrow’s race.” He spread his arms out, clearly pleased with himself, satisfied smirk in place. “Well, how’s that for power?”
“It’s all very well, and truly, I thank you for it,” Alastor replied without looking up, moving to the left corner of the room.
“But, you understand, I must test this piece of knowledge first! No hard feelings, truly! Just standard procedure! I will,” Alastor lifted up a large pail of flour, “let you know!”
He lifted his head to meet Vox in the eyes, seeing the panic that widened Vox’s eyes as he dropped the flour over the candles surrounding the summoning circle, lifting his head to meet Vox in the eyes as he scrambled forward--
The candles went out.
Vox was gone.
Alastor dropped the pail and nearly sank to his knees in relief. Laughter started as a chuckle, rapidly erupting into an explosion as Alastor tossed his head back, clutching his sides, laughing so hard tears started to form. Oh, Vox was far too easy! Are all demons this easy to manipulate? Gosh, he might not even need that deal!
But first, he needs to get in touch with Mimzy.
.
“FUCK!”
Vox slammed his fists on the meeting table, panting, back where he was before being summoned. His employees, who seemed to have been arguing amongst themselves over Vox’s sudden disappearance, all quietened instantly, staring at him in terror.
“What are you lot looking at? Get the fuck OUT of the room before I feed you to Shok.wav! Ethan, stay.” He halted Ethan in his steps, who had been trying to discreetly get out of the room along with the rest. Ethan turned around nervously, bracing himself for whatever task his boss may give him while in a bad mood.
“Send that posh pretentious asshole Zestial a request for all his spellbooks and get Velvette to send all her spellbooks to me. Do NOT disturb me.” Vox growled out the command. His assistant yelped his assent and hurried out of the room, shutting the door and leaving Vox alone in the room.
Vox wanted to punt something, anything. He should not have let his guard down like that. Alastor may be at his most naive, but he was and has always been a manipulative demon. The sight of Alastor in his human form had caught him off guard. Those curls, those rich brown eyes, that same assured smile, that waist…
“Next time, huh, Alastor. I’ll look forward to it.”
.
“So, Alastor, darling, how did you know this Risen Star would win today? She had been on a losing streak too! When did you become a horse betting expert?”
Alastor and Mimzy walked down the street, towards the speakeasy Mimzy performs in. The day after the summoning, Alastor approached Mimzy in the morning and asked her to bet on the horse for that day’s horse race, assuring her that she would hit the jackpot.
Mimzy had been hesitant, and Alastor had privately shared her reservations, but encouraged her to trust him this time. Lo and behold, the horse had indeed won. Alastor was pleasantly surprised when he read this news aloud on the radio in the afternoon, and later even more so by Mimzy swinging by the station, insistent on treating him to a good night out drinking.
“Well, my dear, if you must know, a little picture box told me!” Alastor chuckled to himself.
Mimzy giggled, used to Alastor’s cryptic comments, “Oh you, Alastor. Well, send this ‘picture box’ my thanks, next time you see him! Now, Alastor, we’re not done partying until the sun rises up!” She dragged Alastor into the speakeasy jovially as they reached their destination. Alastor grinned, looking forward to the night, but not before dedicating one more thought to the demon who had made this possible.
“Next time, indeed, Vox. I’ll look forward to it.”