Work Text:
“You’re inspiring, really,” Vox said. “And when you think about it, modern entertainment actually started with radio.”
“Mmmm.” He was correct, but Alastor wasn’t sure if ‘your medium built the foundation for mine’ was quite the complement Vox seemed to think it was. He also had a feeling this was a precursor to Vox’s actual point.
“Ah, am I boring you with my compliments?”
“Perhaps,” Alastor admitted, glancing over at Vox, watching a blue blush spread across his screen before he glanced to the side. For such a shrewd business man, he really could be a bit pathetic at times. His earnest little smile was endearing though.
“Well look,“ Vox continued, looking back at Alastor. “I’ll just get to the point.” He leaned a bit closer, looking even more eager. “We’ve been close for a few years now, right? I mean people know us, they love us.”
‘Love’ was a bit of a generous word, but they were certainly becoming a well-known pair, be it popularity or notoriety. In the two decades or so he’d been in Hell, Alastor had never spent time with any other demon for purely recreational purposes, save perhaps Mimzy and Rosie. But those were both relationships left over from life. It was only natural that people took notice of the fact he was consistently spending time with such a new Sinner.
“And with new overlords popping up every day and…hehe, before you hit me with ‘well, you’re pretty new yourself’” Vox said, putting on an accurate enough impression of Alastor to make him chuckle, “I know, okay, but I’m much more forward-thinking, so it’s in your best interest to hear me out.”
“I’m listening pal,” Alastor assured.“Barkeep, another whiskey?” The demon behind the bar switched out his glass for a full one in nearly an instant, and he flipped them a coin for their trouble
It sounded like he wanted to make some sort of deal, which was intriguing, to say the least. Vox was genuinely one of the most ambitious, forward-thinking people he’d encountered in Hell, and definitely the closest thing to a peer he’d ever encountered. Granted, whatever Vox was proposing would still need to be a good offer, no matter how fond he was of the man.
“So, I’ve been thinking Alastor,” Vox continued, causing Alastor’s attention to return fully to the other man, “with your incredible power and my massive influence…”
Vox got up, reaching over to put a hand on his shoulder. Alastor glanced down at it briefly, but ultimately thought nothing of it. Vox had always been a bit…touchy. Even when they first met.
“...we would be unstoppable. Radio and video. Me and you—” He placed both hands on Alastor’s shoulders, leaning in as the faint sound of radio static crackled in the air. It was one of Vox’s foibles that got more tolerable the more time they spent together, but it still was distracting. So distracting, in fact, that he was beginning to wonder if he’d missed something. Influence wasn’t exactly something Alastor needed at this point, and Vox knew that. So why was he making it sound like that was what he was putting on the table?
“—we could rule Hell,” Vox continued, thankfully letting go as he stood up straight again, “together, as partners.” He ended by extending a hand toward Alastor, giving him a bright, hopeful smile.
Wait. What?
That was it? That was the proposal? He wanted Alastor to lend him the full extent of his power in exchange for his ‘massive influence’? Did Vox genuinely consider the mere opportunity of continued association with himself to be that valuable to someone else? It was so absurd, Alastor let out a few involuntary chuckles, and then burst into laughter before he could stop himself.
“Oh, that’s—” he began, leaning down to look at Vox’s still extended hand. This had to be a joke. Right? But when he glanced up at Vox, the expression on his screen was one of genuine hurt. “Oh, you’re serious?”
Alastor doubled over in laughter, barely able to contain himself. This could not be happening, he could not have misjudged the man that badly, could he? Did Vox really think himself so powerless that the best thing he could bring to the table was something as empty as influence? Or did this burgeoning overlord really think that the formal association with himself was going to be that appealing to other people? Alastor could not decide which possibility was funnier.
“Oh, come now Vox,” he continued, propping himself up with his elbow, “I knew you could be pathetic at times, but I didn’t realize you were so weak!” Part of him half-expected, or perhaps half-hoped the other man would contradict him, but no such luck.
“Eh-heh…what?” Vox chuckled uneasily, his mouth changing to the most pitiful little frown Alastor had seen in life or death.
“Oh, FUCK!” he laughed, grabbing at his own hair before doubling over with laughter again. So that was really his best offer? Was Vox an idiot? Did Vox think he was an idiot?? And why did he look like a kicked puppy?
“You need me to join your team!” He half wished Vox had just started with that, instead of building it up as if it were some proposal that was worthwhile to them both. But then, even if he had…this was something he thought was beneath Vox. “And here I thought you might actually be approaching my level. But asking for assistance? A partnership? I am quite disappointed in you.”
At this point, Vox looked like he was about to cry, his screen starting to fill with hints of static as he sat back down, looking at his own lap.
“I…I just thought…you know, since we were friends—”
“FRIENDS?” Alastor repeated incredulously, leaning in closer. That was his reasoning? Vox wanted the Radio Demon to lend him his power in exchange for basically nothing out of the goodness of his heart? Really?
“There are no friends in Hell, Vincent!” he spat, intentionally using Vox’s human name out of pure contempt. He knew from previous conversations that this was a name the man had left behind intentionally, a ‘bygone era’, he’d called it. And Alastor respected that, he respected him. But now…
“I thought that was something you understood! How embarrassing.” For both of them, really. This wasn’t the clever, forward-thinking entrepreneur Alastor thought he was. This was a pitiful, self-entitled child of a man who expected everyone to leap to the chance to work with him. What a disappointment indeed.
The heartbreak in Vox’s expression quickly turned to rage, his eyes narrowing, his mouth turning into a thin line as his screen blinked in and out. And…was he tearing up? If he started crying, Alastor was going to completely lose it. Instead, the anger seemed to take over not a second later, just before Vox swung a fist directly at Alastor’s face.
Alastor dissipated into shadow a fraction of a section before the hit would have connected, reappearing just behind Vox and glancing around the room briefly to see that a few patrons were staring now.
“My, my, you really don’t take rejection well, do you?”
Vox whipped around the second he heard that, looking positively livid now.
“FUCK you!”
Alastor tilted his head. He didn’t think he could feel any more disappointed than he had already, but ‘fuck you’? Seriously? He had expected an actual come back, some half-clever retort—anything else but that.
“Really? That’s the best response you can come up with?”
Vox’s eyes immediately widened, his expression almost one of horror before his screen started flickering between static, an incoherent mess of colors, and an expression of frustration. Alastor raised an eyebrow as Vox reached up to grab his own head as if in pain. It was truly the most bewildering response—why was he falling apart over such a reasonable question. Just how fragile was this man? Before Alastor could even consider asking what was wrong with him, Vox let out a scream of frustration and launched himself directly at Alastor with a look of pure homicidal rage.
Alastor cackled as he vanished into shadow once more, causing the idiot to crash into the floor. Everyone in the bar was staring now, save the few people who quietly got up to leave. Vox scrambled to his feet, looking a bit disoriented but still angry as ever. There was a small crack in his screen, probably from the impact. Alastor’s grin widened.
“Maybe it will work the third time” Alastor offered gleefully.
As Vox’s eyes narrowed, Alastor noticed sparks of electricity jumping around the man’s body, causing a surge he could feel even standing a few feet away. Was this guy short-circuiting now? This was hilarious.
Vox took a step forward, reaching out toward him before suddenly vanishing into a flash of light. Alastor barely registered what was going on before he was knocked to the floor by an impact that sent a painful surge of electricity through his whole body.
Vox, now on top of him, stared back at Alastor with a look that was just as bewildered as Alastor himself felt. Since when could he do that? Did Vox even know he could do that? With a small grunt of pain and frustration, Alastor shoved the man off, and both got back to their feet again, Vox now wearing the most punchable grin he’d ever seen on that stupid screen.
“Not so fucking untouchable now, are you. Al?”
The sound of radio static crackled loudly through the air as Alastor launched four tendrils of shadow straight at Vox, grabbing each of Vox’s limbs and violently pinning him against the far wall. The majority of the people in the bar made a run for it as Alastor walked closer. That was an accident, wasn’t it? A fluke, a stroke of luck that was not going to strike a second time. His smile grew with every step he took toward Vox.
“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” With a thunderous laugh, he threw Vox into the bar, causing the barkeep to finally make his exit as well. “You never have! All of it was just talk, lofty ideas and dumb luck. That’s why you need me! You can’t do anything on your own.”
As Vox shakily got to his feet, Alastor noticed him clutching his side where some blood seeped through his clothes. Rather than walking over this time, Alastor yanked Vox closer again with another tendril, bringing their faces inches away from one another. At such close proximity, he could see the crack from earlier had traveled down the length of Vox’s screen now, probably from the most recent impact. Part of him wanted to kill this man on the spot, tear his soul apart and broadcast it live just as he had with every other overlord who had the audacity to cross him. But for some reason, he didn’t have it in him. He was too distracted—distracted by the embarrassment of knowing he’d thought so highly of someone so weak. Distracted by the frustration of knowing Vox was so confident he could take advantage of that. Furious with himself for not seeing it coming a mile away.
“You’re pathetic,” Alastor sneered at last. “And more of a fool than I could have ever imagined if you genuinely thought anyone would want to join forces with someone like you.” He flung Vox over into the bar again, watching him crumble into another heap.
“Goodbye, Vincent.”
And with one last, contemptuous smirk, Alastor vanished into shadow once more.