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It felt like a fitting end to them. Started in electricity, ending the same, only stronger, amplified to a million. Started together and ending it together. Alastor had never felt so alive as in that final moment. His grin sharpened as they stared at each other for one last time.
Go on, mon chér. End our dance and take everybody else with us on our way out.
They would die together. And wasn't that romantic? Privately, Alastor thought so. Theirs was the greatest love story of all Hell. What anyone else had just couldn't compare to them, not even close. But of course, why would he say so out loud? Didn't it go without saying? To him it did. And yet, Vincent cried a little too much for Alastor's understanding.
What was he doing? Was he still putting on a show? A showman until the end, he supposed. After all, everyone was watching what was happening between them. And Vincent always loved a good show. Only...Nothing happened. What Alastor expected just didn't happen. Vincent was stopped by his meddlesome companions, and that was that. Their dance, cut short right before the culmination. His picture box, painted as a power - hungry megalomaniac, when that wasn't quite the accurate description. He simply wanted Alastor's attention, of course. Vincent didn't quite care about ruling as much as he cared about maintaining what they had. That was how it always has been and still is.
Did no one understand?
Perhaps not. Perhaps they both got too caught up in their dance to notice anyone else around them, until the last moment. They were always like that, Vincent and he. They could never quite notice anything but each other every time they were near. Everything else faded into nothing. It was why he pushed him away that night in the bar. Alastor was losing focus on what needed to be done. He needed to free himself of the chains that bound him to Rosie. And he couldn't do so with Vincent by his side. He decided he would simply come back for him when his deal was broken. Everything would be just as it should be.
It should've gone according to plan, and yet not all of it did.
His soul was his own once more. He was finally able to completely do as he pleased. So, Alastor had been expectant for weeks now. Still, no sign of his little disgraced television set. Where was he? Alastor didn't like how the chair across him in his room continued to be empty. That wasn't what he planned. Vincent should have been here by now. At first, he thought two weeks at the maximum would be enough for the TV demon to wallow in misery and feel sorry for himself. The man liked his dramatics, after all. Alastor thought he would eventually come to him, now that everything was said and done. He was free now. They would go back to how they were before Alastor had to execute his plans to free himself. Didn't he understand that? They could be them again, just the two of them.
But Vincent still was a no - show.
He hated when his carefully thought out plans didn't go exactly as he wanted them to. Where was Vincent? Could it be he was still upset? Why was he still upset? Alastor had to rile him up a little, mostly for his plan to work, slightly out of amusement. Did it truly bother Vincent more than usual? His eyes would always flicker with almost unrestrained emotion at anything Alastor chose to say to him. Of course, Alastor liked seeing that. He liked that it was his, a reaction in Vincent that only he commanded. So, he continued to poke until he saw that reaction again and again. But that was just what they did. And yet...Something was different. There was something he wasn't seeing. Because Vincent always came back to him.
No matter what happened, he knew he would always be the priority to the TV head sinner. He wouldn't choose anyone else over him; he never has. They could have been waiting for the world to end, and Alastor knew Vincent would come to him, by his side until the very last second. They weren't meant to be apart.
So where the fuck was he?
Alastor was getting a bit impatient, perhaps a bit irritated, even. How long would this tantrum last? He was losing confidence that Vincent would come to him. And that never happened before. He was always certain about him, about them. He knew Vincent more than anyone. He sits leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, silent and alone in the privacy of his room. The glass of sazerac on his coffee table sat untouched, ice almost melted. He found he couldn't quite enjoy himself in complete silence.
And that was where he understood something wasn't right.
Silence.
In all the decades of the rivalry between the Radio Demon and the TV Demon...Their frequency was never silent. Why couldn't Alastor feel him anymore? His grin felt too large for his face as the comfortable atmosphere of his room suddenly felt suffocating. It was silent, too silent. Where was their static? No..This wasn't as simple as one of Vincent's usual tantrums. Something was wrong. Alastor stands up abruptly, deciding he'll simply have to do everything himself, as always.
"Don't make me come to that building of yours and drag you out by your silly antennae...Come on. Respond." Alastor whispers, letting an electric shock travel through his radio waves to reach him.
Just a simple jab. A bit of a teasing pinch, to wake him up. To jolt him out of whatever made him silent. Nothing he hasn't done before. Nothing Vincent hasn't responded to before. And yet...For the first time in decades, there was no response. There was only silence.
He didn't like it. Vincent, Vox, was never completely silent. Not to him. He always had something to say, a glare to throw, and a last word to get in in their arguments. He always reacted to Alastor. And now there was nothing. He hated it.
"You've earned my ire all on your own, mon chér...I suppose I truly will have to drag you out. Very well." Alastor chuckles, his shadow swirling restlessly around his legs.
Time to go fetch his picture box and remind him he does not like to be kept waiting. Alastor disappears in the darkness of his shadows, fading out of the Hazbin Hotel with a soft laugh that barely hid his annoyance. He appears once more right in front of Vee Tower.
"Ah, such tasteless decor..."Alastor grins, irritation very slightly soothed.
Because as soon as he enters the lobby, he feels it. Their connection. Faint, crackling softly. It was there still, regardless of the unexplained silence. Alastor supposed he could accept for once being the one to reach out. Perhaps his elusive picture box will finally come out of hiding if Alastor forces their connection back into full volume. All he has to do is find Vincent.
He doesn't deem the employees of the Tower, low - ranked sinners, scattering at the sight of him even worthy of a glance. They are making his task only easier, after all.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Comes the british-accented voice, unwelcoming and ready for an argument.
Ah, the smallest Vee...Lovely. He turns his head at an unnatural degree, neck snapping, his grin large and a little bit too crazed. Velvette doesn't flinch, but he can tell she finds his abilities odd and unsettling. Alastor would have laughed, but he had something else to focus on at the moment.
"I think you know why, my dear."
Her eyes narrow, hands on her hips as she studies him. The curious thing was, she didn't seem angry with him because of the fallout of Vox's plans. No, this was strangely something else that he couldn't understand. What had he done for such a reaction?
"Listen, if you think you can just come back to continue whatever weird trainwreck is going on between you and Vox...You need to fucking stop. Don't you think you fucked him up enough already?" She says as a matter of fact, as if Alastor had somehow acted irrationally.
She was overreacting. Unsurprisingly, neither her nor the moth knew nor understood the complete relationship between him and Vox. How deep it was. How far it went. It's only natural she would sour something lovely with careless remarks. She didn't understand what they were together.
"I'm afraid I don't follow, my dear..My intentions aren't quite as malicious as you seem to believe."He smiles, snapping his head back into place again.
"...You're taking the piss, aren't ya? Come on. You can't be fucking serious."She scowls, close to losing patience.
Something in his expression must have made her stop, Velvette suddenly laughing in disbelief at something Alastor didn't really understand. His annoyance spiked.
"You really don't fucking understand, do ya? You don't understand how badly you fucked him up."She laughs, now grating on his nerves.
Why does she keep saying that? She makes Vincent sound so terribly soft. As if Alastor were enough to ruin him. No, he knew his picture box was stronger than what his associates give him credit for. He may not have spoken it out loud, but he knew he was not so easy to destroy. He wasn't sure why she looked at him like he was Vincent's ruin.
"¡Hijo de puta! Baby doll, get this fucking freak out of here before I start shooting!"The moth hisses, far more hostile, unfortunately showing up from the upper floors and coming to stand with Velvette.
And still, the only one he wanted to see was nowhere in sight. Alastor was prepared to be civil. Truly, he wanted to have a polite conversation instead of starting a brawl. But in that moment, the fragile connection between him and Vincent alarmingly snaps out of nowhere. Alastor is reminded of a moment, almost forever ago, where Vincent, on accident, dropped one of Rosie's vases in her emporium on a visit. Glass shards rained everywhere, their bloodied hands touching as they both cleaned the glass.
Almost unconsciously, Alastor's body grows, limbs elongating into something twisted and antlers growing in size. More menacing, more dangerous. His eyes turn to radio dials, the air around him growing distorted with his glowing voodoo symbols and flickering in a way he didn't notice. His black tentacles surge forward, grabbing both Velvette and Valentino without a second thought. He lifted them off the ground. They can't run; they have to tell him. He had to find him. His voice came out glitching and distorted.
"WHERE IS HE?!"
But they didn't understand what was going on. They didn't tell him; instead they fought back when they weren't supposed to. They were slowing him down. Sinners stayed out of the way, running for cover, as Alastor destroyed the lobby. Velvette was flung through the entrance doors by his tentacles outside. Dust rises from the fight and destruction as he slams the moth into the ground. Privately, he'll have to admit they were putting up a decent fight. But he was running out of time. If they were going to stand in his way, he needed them unconscious at the least. The moth finally goes limp, weakened and unconscious from his blows. But Alastor was still full of adrenaline. Something close to what he didn't recognize was panic. He couldn't feel Vincent. He shrinks back to his normal size, leaving the two unconscious Vees behind as he disappears into his shadows, surging forward to the upper floors. No, at this rate he would not reach him in time.
You're late, Alastor. You're late.
He had to reach him. He had to stop whatever foolish idea Vincent conjured up, whatever thoughtless plan of his was locking Alastor out. Their shared frequency, their connection, no longer stood as the open door it always was. It was always opened, no matter what was said and done. But now, the door was starting to close, electricity getting farther the more steps he took toward it.
Run.
The usual ever - present hum of Vincent's TV waves was disappearing around him. It was no longer all around him, no longer close enough to reach. Their connection was fraying and unraveling at a rapid pace Alastor couldn't reign in. What was happening? Why was it out of his control?
RUN.
He breaks out into a run, almost dropping his staff in his urgency to reach him. His hands trembled. He almost rips the door of Vincent's office off its hinges, bursting inside.
"Vincent!"He shouts.
He didn't want to acknowledge that for the first time in his life and afterlife, he sounded desperate. Vincent sat in his office chair, connected to the machinery around him by his electric cables, his screen dark. He wasn't moving. Had he turned his screen off or powered it down for whatever reason? Alastor ran to him. To get a better look at him. To wake him...And then something uncomfortable and ugly twisted in his chest. Suddenly Alastor realized what was happening as he looked at the flashing words on Vincent's now dark screen. He thought it was simply another one of the picture box's updates, as usual. Nothing to concern himself with, as he usually wouldn't. It was nothing...Until it wasn't.
Deleting ALASTOR.EXE - 78%...79%...
"...No."Alastor whispers, grabbing the sides of Vincent's screen.
For once, Alastor regretted ignoring Vincent's attempts to teach him anything about the technology he was made of. He should have agreed. Should have listened. Should have known more about it. The irony wasn't lost on him. The one time he absolutely needed to be knowledgeable, he wasn't. Now he didn't know..He couldn't..
He couldn't stop this.
"No!"He hisses forcefully, the heart many assumed served no function now beating furiously, terribly, against his ribcage.
Think. Think, Alastor. How do you fix this?
He tries to shake him, but nothing happens. Bargain. Make a deal with him again. Anything, if he looks at him again. Anything, if he wakes up and still remembers them.
Don't do this to me, mon chér. Don't end our dance this way. Not like this.
"I will grant you what you wished for, my egotistical picture box. I will make you a god, a deity to be worshipped. Don't you hear me? I'll kneel to you. I'll adore you with all the care of a church man praying to Heaven. I'll...trust you."His pleasant tone grows strained, his smile a little too large and manic as he stares at the dark screen.
If making a fool of himself in private for him was what it took to get whatever this was supposed to be to stop, for Vincent to finally come back to him, Alastor would do as Vincent so tells everyone who cares to hear him speak. Trust him.
"Isn't that what you wanted?! Open your eyes! Look at me!"Alastor shouts, shaking the unresponsive body more roughly, trying to will him awake.
Fucking look at me!
But Vincent didn't wake, and the percent only went higher. In all the seventy years they've been keeping up their dance...Vincent never once wasn't looking at him. He could never quite stop looking at him, those big pixelated eyes projected on his screen always open and vulnerable. Vincent had such expressive eyes. Alastor quite liked that the emotion in his eyes never faded, even when Vincent tried playing aloof. Always so emotinal, always so passionate..And it was always meant for Alastor, no one else. Looking back, perhaps he should have told him how much he liked his eyes. Those warm, once affectionate, eyes.
You're inspiring.
You're inspiring.
You're inspiring.
He wanted to scream. He didn't know why. Without thinking, his hands move on their own. He rips out the cables connecting Vincent, the process coming to a screeching halt. Static hummed around them again, faint, but there. Still living. No longer at the brink of death. Alastor reached him before the door to their connection, to them, could close permanently. Now, he just had to pry it fully open once more and make sure it stays that way.
ERROR.
Disconnected at 82%. ALASTOR.EXE was not deleted entirely.
Continue?
With uncertain hands, Alastor pressed the 'no' option on the screen, unsure what this was doing to Vincent's mind in the long run. But buried under layers upon layers was a hint of relief. He stopped it. Did this mean the remaining percentage saved some memories? Would Vincent wake up still remembering him in certain ways, however miniscule? He could work with that. It was better than nothing.
You ain't won yet. You still need me like you did before.
"This is not over. We will never be over, Vincent."
Amnesia induced by his own hand would not save him from Alastor. Oh, no. Now that Alastor was free, no chains to hold him back, nothing was stopping him from dragging his little picture box, kicking and screaming, back to where he belonged in his line of sight. No, he's made the mistake of leaving him to his own devices already. And look where that got him. That will have to be corrected, of course...He'll never let Vincent out of his sight again. Yes, that's what he's going to do. He didn't remember Alastor? No matter.
He'll make him remember.