Chapter Text
Hell had this strange effect on a person. One could fall deep within the depths of this realm just as they were on the surface; tainted, but still holding on to their sense of humanity. Each one always swearing up and down that they would never become the scum they see on the streets. That no matter what form they now took they were still human. Yet they all eventually succumbed to the darkness lurking within. Their vices taking control of whatever sliver of morality remained inside their souls, and transforming them into true demons.
At least, that's how it felt for Vox once upon a time.
Sure, he was not the pinnacle of morality (far from it), but he was also once dumb enough to believe that he was better than the other sinners. That there was something about him that made him different. A little spark that would keep him afloat. Instead of forcing him to drown within a cesspool of endless sin and hatred.
What a load of shit that was.
It didn't matter who you were, or what you believed you were, because all sinners' minds eventually matched their grotesque bodies. Vox quickly realized this, and soon he was no better than all the other scum seeking their next fix.
No longer was he Vincent Whittman; father, son, and the charismatic presence from your TV screen. He was Vox, the television demon, and that's how things were going to stay.
"W-Well, Sir. We are doing our best to meet the deadline, but things have slowed down since the last extermination. W-We lost at least 40% of our-" A sigh interrupted the sinner, causing them to tense up. Their back pin straight as if a rod was keeping him upright. Not an unusual reaction. At least, it wasn't strange when it came to Vox.
"Let me present to you a simple question," Each word that left Vox’s mouth was laced with honey. Sugary sweet, yet bitter enough to put the poor lowly sinner in front of him on edge. He watched as the demon gulped back his fear, shaking slightly, but doing his best to hide it away. To not show weakness in front of Vox. Yet that only made it more exciting for the overlord.
"Did I ask for excuses?" The sinners eyes widened and he quickly shook his head. He didn't bother to speak, knowing damn well it wouldn't help him in the long run. "So why did you come here, to my office, just to spout bullshit I never asked for." The faux sweetness was gone, replaced by a venom that was much more familiar to those who got on the overlords bad side.
Vox knew who he was, or more accurately what people expected of him. The Vs had a specific image to uphold after all. Valentino was the porn obsessed idiot with a temper equivalent to a toddlers, Velvette was the most cutthroat bitch Pentagram city has ever seen, and then there was Vox. Where would he even begin explaining himself?
Vox is a master of words, weaving them together flawlessly until his prey was forced to obey. There is nothing he couldn't do. He's untouchable! A god among scum! he had clawed his way to the top and that's where he had planned to stay!
"I-I'm s-s-" The sinner started to stammer. Their lips now quivering as if they were cold. How boring.
"Get the fuck out of my office." Vox only watched with disinterest as the underling took off in a cloud of smoke. Probably thankful to not be even more dead than they already were, but scared enough to not assume the Overlord was showing mercy. The thought alone made him want to snort! Him? Mercy!? ridiculous!
"Delays my ass." Vox pushed his prior thoughts away with a sigh, rising from his chair as he did so. It felt as though he had a million weights pressing against his shoulders, and he was getting pretty tired of it. Sluggishly, he pulled himself away from his desk. Making his way towards the familiar metal doors that served as his personal paradise.
Lately, it seemed everything in Hell had been thrown off. On the surface, that made sense. With princess Charlie and her nobodies fending off a herd of exorcists and killing Adam…yeah, things were not the same. Yet Vox had to admit, whatever pleasure he did get from the silly display (mostly Alastor getting his smarmy ass handed to him on a silver platter) had quickly worn off. Especially since a week later it was all anyone wanted to talk about.
"The princess saved us!"
"No more exterminations!"
It was so sappy it made him want to puke! He had assumed the glitz and glamor of the whole thing would have worn off by now, but sadly that was not the case. Fuck, the buzz had even taken away from his ratings! Vox knew he had to do something to divert the gullible masses attention back to him, but he still had no idea how.
Instantly, he felt some reprieve the moment he stepped into his domain. A television screen in every corner, surrounding him from top to bottom, and making him feel more in control than he already was. It allowed him to truly breathe, and feed the vices that were constantly begging to be seen. He even had to hold back a surge of joy fueled electricity as he took his seat, watching with glee as the feed from every camera in Pentagram city was revealed to him at once.
It was thrilling how many people never seemed to realize they were being watched, but he couldn't care less about them. No. He ignored each and every puny sinner as he scrolled through the feed. Furiously on the hunt for a certain someone who seemed keen to not make themselves known.
"Stupid fucking deer. You can't hide forever." The smug bastard had to show himself eventually! There was no way Alastor would be pleased to just disappear into the background after all. Yet, there has not been a single sighting of the deer since, and fuck that frustrated Vox to a level he didn't even know was possible.
Was Alastor’s wound worse than what it looked like on livestream? Did the fucker die before Vox even had a chance to take him down!? He shook those thoughts away. No, if there's anything he learned during their many years of rivalry it's that the Radio Demon was akin to a cockroach. Unkillable, and always crawling back out of the gutter when you least expect it. It probably wouldn't be long before that stupid yellow smile was taking up his entire camera feed.
Suddenly, he switched to the camera planted in front of the hotel. Well, the new and improved hotel that is. And fuck, it was an eyesore. It almost reminded Vox of something a toddler would come up with, babbling away about their “super ultra cool” hotel idea before forgetting about it entirely the next day. Except, that didn't happen, and now he was forced to stare at this monstrosity anytime he wanted to spy-I mean, check up on the place.
It didn't help as well that there seemed to be a buzzing crowd in front of the place. Sinners beyond the eye could see, each one practically throwing themselves at the hotel’s doorstep as if it was the best thing since sliced bread, and in the center of it all was princess Charlie. Her body tense as a board, and eyes wide as saucers as she stared out at her new loyal followers. Yet she wasn't happy like Vox had expected, as her usual smile was instead a painted on imitation. Tight, feigned, and surprisingly lost. The sight made him sick.
Look, Vox wouldn't say he hated princess Charlie per se (he’s never met her after all), but something about her always got under his skin. Like an annoying mosquito that never seemed to stop buzzing around your head. Sure, maybe her heart was in the right place, but it was hard to listen to some self-righteous bitch preach about what sinners wanted. Especially when said bitch didn't know the first thing about being human, dying, or living in fear of being exterminated every year.
Honestly, he probably would have respected the princess more if she just asked what they wanted to begin with. Actually listening to their woes instead of covering her eyes and remaining blissfully unaware of the anger the masses felt. Yet she didn't do that, and Hell was stuck with an idiotic princess with a savior complex.
He quickly flipped through several more camera feeds, ignoring the growing anger that seemed to pool within his stomach and rise up out of him with a growl. He was sure Hell will eventually grow tired of the princess and her pet project hotel! That's right! Eventually the novelty will wear off and those brainless masses will crawl back to him! They’ll soon realize they need him! The princess and her gaggle of clowns could never-Vox paused. Or, more accurately, forced to pause.
Slowly, he clicked a few channels back, looking through each scene as if it was a work of fine art. Finally, he stopped when the image changed to reflect one of the many disgusting alleyways in Pentagram city. Vox had to really think back to when he had even set up this camera to begin with. Was it for teleportation purposes? Or maybe there was another reason altogether that he just couldn't remember? Either way that was far from what was important.
His eyes scanned the sea of black trash bags and grimy bricks, pausing only when his eyes took hold of a strange sight. A hand. Pale, small, and buried under so much trash it was a miracle that Vox saw it to begin with.
“What the fuck?” He muttered under his breath, zooming in on the image in hopes that maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him. Yet the hand remained, and so did Vox’s belief that he was losing it.
Sure, the oddball limb here or there was far from unusual. Fuck, they had a whole section called cannibal town! And let's just say Vox had spent quite enough time there to the point that he had become desensitized to the more gruesome details of Hell. So, why was it he couldn't seem to look away?
Because it looks so human.
Vox quickly shook the voice away, scoffing at it as he contemplated how insane such a thought even was. Yet, he leaned into the idea, allowing himself to believe the insanity even if it was just for a second. He took in the smooth skin, small fingers, and dull nails; all features rarely seen on a sinner. He supposed it could have belonged to a particularly short individual, one who just so happened to be reformed in a very human looking form, yet his brain nagged at him anyway.
So what! A human may have, possibly, made their way into Hell. What does that have anything to do with him!? A blue claw hovered over the button that would have solved all of this. Vox just needed to switch to a different camera and then he could push this whole thing to the back of his mind. But he didn't. He couldn't. Because what if it was human?
Now don't get him wrong! None of this was due to pity or genuine concern. Instead, he was left to imagine all the possibilities that having a human under his thumb would provide.
Vox could present himself as a savior to them. Someone willing to protect them from the horrors of Hell and assist them in their journey back topside. Of course, that will be a tiny white lie, but by that point anyone knew that it would be too late. The human would be completely and utterly reliant on him. They would have no choice but to occasionally star in one of Val’s movies, or promote a VoxTek product. It was an airtight plan so perfect he could almost visualize it!
Now if it could just become reality.
He sent a glance behind him. Valentino was going to be busy all day with a shoot and Velvette had been pulling all-nighters to prepare for her upcoming fashion show, so it would just be Vox in the penthouse for a bit. Another glance towards the camera feed seemed to be all he needed before a decision was made.
Taking a moment to satisfy his curiosity wouldn't hurt anyone, right?
In a blink of an eye he zapped himself to the camera in question, nothing but a string of blue electricity to signify his arrival. He huffed quietly to himself, brushing a few stray electrical currents from his suit as he did so. The action wouldn't mean much when he was surrounded by literal garbage, but it would have to do for now.
“In and out, Vox.” He mumbled to himself, scrunching his nonexistent nose up in disgust as he was forced to take in the dingy alley he had transported himself to. All he had to do was check the stupid hand and leave, or, find something worthwhile and go from there. Simple. Yet as he moved closer to the mountain of black trashbags and cardboard he couldn't help the way his chest seemed to tighten into a barbed knot, digging into him with every step he took.
But why? Vox wasn't one to be anxious (at least, not anymore), or to even feel fear for that matter. So why did it feel like he was walking to his own death?
Maybe it was because a living human in Hell would be the biggest scandal to date. A literal weight that would tip the scales forever. It wouldn't just be a boon for the Vees, but instead it would be like waving a giant juicy steak in front of a hoard of hungry sharks. The temptation that sinners would feel would be undeniable. Vox had faith in his abilities to fight off anyone in the Pentagram, but did he want to? Would one scrawny human really be worth centuries of power shifting battles?
His answer would depend on whether he was actually looking at a human in the first place, and if they were even alive.
Vox kneeled down, an unreadable expression on his screen as he scrutinized the hand. It looked…smaller than it did on screen. So tiny that his palm would surely swallow it up if he dared to take it into his claws. Honestly, he would have thought it was a child’s hand if not for the fact that children were practically nonexistent in Hell (and Vox did not count the Cannibal Town kids because they were their own can of worms). Yet, the hand was there, and he couldn't help the realization he was starting to come to.
Fuck, he should have just ignored the hand and went along his merry way.
Suddenly, Vox found himself wading through the sea of garbage. Pulling it apart like some strange game of Tetris. He wasn't sure what he was doing, or why he was doing it, but the moment his arms began to move he couldn't stop himself. It was as if he was on autopilot, unable to make decisions on his own, and he despised it. He was Vox! No one decided anything for him but himself! Yet all of that was forgotten the moment he lifted the last cardboard box away and revealed his well earned treasure.
There, laying motionless on the hard concrete, was a child no older than 4 or 5. He (or maybe a she?) was skinny, and Vox didn't mean the kid was just a little thin. No. He was practically a twig. His cheeks sunken in so much that Vox almost assumed he was a skeleton. Honestly, maybe the kid was dead.
Vox laid a hand on the kid’s small back, scowling in disappointment when he didn't feel any sign of life. Great, a dead human was useless to him. Of course he was fucking pissed right now! He wasted his time teleporting all the way here, dug through the garbage, and got nothing to show for it! Annoyance was expected, but strangely that wasn't all he felt.
A claw flew up towards his chest, gripping the material of his sweater vest as he puzzled over the strange tightness he was now feeling. What was this? It was as if someone had grabbed his heart and shoved it right into a blender. No, not just a blender. A fucking woodchipper! It was foreign, at least he thought so. Though Vox quickly realized that his pain was less of a new thing, and instead a muscle that hadn't been flexed in a long time.
Heartbreak.
All of the sudden Vox was consumed by an old memory. One filled with the smell of cigarette smoke, and the soft hum of Ella Fitzgerald tickling his ears.
“You got everything you need, princess?” Vincent allowed himself to scan the space once again, taking in the skew of toys and art supplies in an almost scrutinizing manner. Dolls? Check! Crayons and paper? Also check! So far it didn't seem like he forgot to pack anything.
“Why can’t I go with you daddy? I promise I'll be good.” His gaze snapped to his side. Instantly locking on to the form of a five year old girl. She was like a little angel. Dark hair framing a pair of bright emerald green eyes, looking at him in a way that made him absolutely melt on the spot.
“Oh, Maeve.” Vincent leaned forward, fixing the white ribbon secured in her hair before his hand rested against her tiny cheek. “You’re always my good girl, you know that, but I need you to stay here today.” Her face instantly fell into a pout, and Vincent instantly felt his heart break into two. “It’s ok, sweetheart. I’ll come get you the moment I'm done.” He then leaned forward, rubbing his nose tenderly against his baby’s in a quick eskimo kiss.
Vincent really hated bringing Maeve to work with him all the time. He really did. Yet he didn't exactly have much of a choice, as the last time he left her at home he came back to find the girl half starved and with a nasty bump on her head. You would think a woman could at least feed her own child, but he guessed he thought wrong.
“You promise?” Maeve held up her little pinky towards him, silently begging for her father to take it. Vincent did just that, wrapping her small fingers with his own.
“I promise. Then we can show everyone your pretty new dress.” He took gentle care in smoothing out the sailor collar and frilly skirt of her dress, marveling in how the blue color matched his suit.
“Ok! I’ll see you soon daddy!” The little girl broke into a huge smile, showing off her missing two front teeth as she did so.
That image was still etched into his brain, even 70 years later. Because Vox died that day. He never kept his promise. He left Maeve to the mercy of her useless mother and an unjust world, the thought alone stabbing him deep within his chest. Vox woke up in Hell with the worst feeling of heartbreak he had ever experienced, but time had numbed it for him. Demon’s didn't feel sad after all. Even when faced with a long forgotten corpse of a child.
Vox nearly threw up in his mouth. Emotions. Absolutely gross.
He looked towards the boy again, using a claw to poke his cheek before sighing in exasperation. Oh well, the kid was dead, guess it was time to leave him for the cannibals to find. Finally, he pulled himself back to his feet. The situation now a distant memory as he got ready to return to V-Tower. Well, that was the plan at least, but life once again decided to throw a wrench into it.
At first, Vox thought he had imagined the sound. A small, animalistic whine that barely reached his sensors. He froze, barely given the chance to contemplate what he just heard before it happened again.
“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” He grumbled to himself before slowly turning on his heels. To say he was shocked would be an understatement. Especially since the impossible seemed to have become reality.
The boy was alive. Half-lidded hazel eyes staring up at him with a mix of confusion and horror, digging into Vox like knives as he was forced to remain in place. It was as if the kid put a spell on him, freezing him in place so the demon had no choice but to watch the thing die. Yet, he didn't die, and instead the tiny child weakly writhed where he laid, attempting to scurry away from Overlord in his presence. It didn't matter that the boy looked like a punching bag, or that the back of his shirt was becoming stained by a dark red liquid, as there was still a fire of determination in his eyes. A will to fight. To live.
Fuck, this was way too much for what it was worth. No matter the possibilities! Yet he also couldn't find it in himself to leave. His body is nothing more than a statue in the alley.
Why couldn't he move?
The question was simple, yet it was only answered with another question. What if this was Maeve in front of him? What then? He tried to remind himself that this was not Maeve. That his daughter would be in her seventies now, or, if his wishes were granted, a winner in heaven. But the image never left his head anyway. Anytime he blinked all he saw was a little girl with dark hair bleeding out and begging for her dad to save her.
Suddenly, his body moved. Claws scooping the tiny boy up until he was held close to his chest, and then they were gone. Not a single smidge of evidence left to even hint that the pair were in the alley to begin with.
Except for the remaining worry that Vox might just regret this later.