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Summary
Vox was now useless. Forgotten. His reputation in shambles.
However desperation leads to big things, things that should be impossible. Though Hell has proven time and time again that nothing is truly impossible.
After months of work in secret his little project was coming together: a time machine.
All of this had started when Alastor had rejected him, so now everything will end with Alastor.
Vox will be reclaiming his fate and with it he will reclaim Alastor too. By any means necessary.
-"So it's in your best interest to hear me out"
"I'm listening, pal. Barkeep, another whisky"
Vox's antennas sparked. He knew exactly why. He felt the power in his fingertips; he had knowledge, strength, the Vox of the future in the pathetic body of him of the past.
"I want to rule hell" he said, changing the script "and I can't wait for you to see me do it"
Alastor tilted his head and then hummed "I count on it"
