Work Text:
BAXTER
Archived Memory Log: 4365
Hm… This one is different. It was marked as one of Vox’s prominent moments with Alastor…
As it might pertain a bit more about them and how they used to be, it might require his full attention. So, he set aside his work for now and clasped his hands in front of his face, watching closely.
When playing this next log, he remembered this Vox... Sweet and generous, but entirely wicked underneath the facade. A 'mask' Baxter noticed he lost shortly after Alastor’s ‘favorite’ memory.
The soft harmonious buzz that seemed to fizzle in the background throughout caught his attention. A common occurrence with memories including the radio demon as well as the moth he kept around… A rather peculiar, but interesting detail, probably not too important, but he took notice none the less. Though, it was more persistent with past Alastor rather than the later ones.
Ah… This place again. This location seemed to pop up more than any other. Most memories between these two were a ‘random’ pass on the street when Vox would wave him down and pace alongside him, striking up random conversation and pitching random ideas until he eventually drifted away with a loose agreement to talk another time, but this place…
It seemed to be where they would commune most frequently based on his research. Never had he seen it before in his time in Hell. He wondered if it still existed?
It’s a rather moody looking establishment from the looks of it. Pale red peeling wallpaper lined the walls, countless watchful eyes peering through each crack and crevice. There were skeletal decorations floating around the vicinity as well, records on the walls, damaged artwork, posters that seemed to be falling apart, and the dark glow of broken neon signs with some pretty caustic messages from what he could see… Could use some TLC. Surely, there were better bars in the area?
However, Vox didn’t pay too much mind to the environment, he realized. Shocking. Yes. But no, no. It was constant wrist checks, glances towards the door. Fixing his bowtie. Drumming on his lap occasionally. What's strange is that he's always about the sleek, sharp, minimalistic designs now, but back then? It seemed all he did was surround himself in the bloody crimson hue…
He hummed curiously, tilting his head. Jotting down a few notes already.
YOUNG ALASTOR
The Television's patience was well rewarded as a flash of red appeared in the doorway. All heads turned towards the Radio Demon as he strolled in with the air of someone who long ago knew he was the best and acted like it. His ears were raised high and his smile was on full display. Some people approached him cautiously, some people cowered away. Some people put their heads down like they wanted nothing to do with him.
Alastor politely conversed with a few regulars. He was nothing if not charismatic, certainly more in this time than Baxter saw in him now when he turned more reclusive. Shying away and loathing more public gatherings. Though that could also be attributed to the fact that everyone was giving him the deference that he felt he deserved.
Even as Vox watched Alastor chat, he was able to see Alastor's gaze avert towards him for a moment. In that instance, Alastor's ears laid back and his face softened for an almost imperceptible moment. The look wasn't for anyone else. It was for the man who had been waiting for him. The Radio Demon's smile brightened and actually met his eyes as he quickly stepped through the crowd that parted like the Red Sea for him.
As he got to Vincent, he placed his hands on the man's shoulders, squeezing them in a friendly and reassuring manner.
"Vincent! You came! Sorry to keep you waiting, my good man. I had to see a lady about a deal. HA! Sheeee is very bad off... but enough about that! Come! Sit down. Bartender two doubles on the rocks. So what's new in TV land, hmm? What fine talking picture shows are coming down the pipe? I heard they're putting out a version of The Music Man for the big screen. Any merit to it?"
He took his seat at the bar and let Vox take the seat beside him. Several bar patrons looked between the two men and then looked at one another. Several eyebrows raised and more sank lower into their seats.
VINCENT
It seems hard to imagine the TV demon without a phone or bright blue holographic screen near him at all times, yet there he was, devoid of it. Hence the fidgeting. Oh, what screens have done to ease the attention span woes!
It had grown late enough now that Vincent thought maybe Alastor wasn't going to show at all. His mind ran rampant with situations that might have prevented the radio demon from keeping the...
Date?
No, this wasn't that. Appointment. That was the better (safer) word. Back to worrying.
Perhaps he'd gotten accosted on the way here or worse, perhaps he'd just not wanted to show. A squiggly frown found his decidedly more box-like TV head. The scenarios ran through his clunky TV head for quite some time. He was, in fact, just about to push his chair out and take his leave before he felt the whole entire mood of the bar change.
It was as though the temperature rose ten degrees suddenly. At least, for Vincent. When he caught Alastor's eye and saw that smile, a bright blue flush rose to the center of his screen. His (then longer) antennas wiggled a little and then popped up, amicably as the very red sinner approached him, sparking an excited, jagged line of electricity between them when those long, red claws closed over his shoulders.
His screened face reflected his rapt attention to the barrage of words coming from the radio demon. He maybe didn't catch all of it, but his bright smile said he didn't care. He understood enough to know that a drink was ordered and that a seat was offered.
"Merit? Absolutely! It's true! Buddy Hackett and Robert Preston on the screen together, singing? Don't mind if I do!" His claws tinked pleasantly along the drink's glass once the bartender slid it over. "There's a real, heh, screamer called 'Psycho.' It's got everyone all messed up on Earth... Real spooky. That Alfred Hitchcock sure is a card..." He raised an eyebrow. "Planning on seeing one?"
YOUNG ALASTOR
Alastor's smile brightened hearing that such good shows were making their way to a wider audience. At least there'd be a little more culture out there. Sometimes it seemed like the only culture some people had were bacteria. Vox was different though. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something was speaking to him that made him be a little softer with him. He was funny. He was worldly and knowledgeable. And at least he had good taste in music.
Alastor tapped his chin in thought for a moment before leaning his elbow on the bar, looking towards his (date) favored acquaintance.
"Mmm perhaps. I've never been much for the more visual medium that's coming out now." He gave Vox a long studying glance and his voice shifted just slightly. More playful. Possibly even flirty? "But I think I'm beginning to come around to it."
He took a sip of his drink and set it down close to Vox's hand, lightly brushing it.
"Besides. If I wanted to watch something about psychos, I'd point to one of the random people down here and odds are good I'd be pointing at one anyway! Haaa! And Hitchcock! I remember doing a piece on him when Blackmail came out! The first British Talkie. Never watched it myself."
The Radio Demon sat back, finding himself actually enjoying being around this person unlike most of the people in hell. Maybe he was going soft. He'd have to steal another Overlord voice after this to make sure he wasn't losing his touch.
"So what else is new, Vincent? See anything worthwhile?"
VINCENT
At the saucy glance, Vincent felt an unbidden flush rise to the center of his screen. It only brightened at the rest.
He's coming around to it!
Vincent had met a lot of stubborn motherfuckers in his life but this one took the cake. Managing to sway Alastor's opinion on anything was considered a legendary feat in itself. And yet, he'd found he'd done it several times, and enjoyed the thrill of pride and joy when he did. Surely it meant the radio demon valued his opinion? He wouldn't give him the time of day, otherwise. He wouldn't bother with anyone he didn't have a personal interest in...
...For better or for worse.
Love(?) tends to be blind, and Vincent was no exception. In retrospect there had been warning signs. Little red flags that he couldn't see with the rose colored ones he wore at the time. Once in a while, when doubt whispered through his mind like a winter wind.
"He's using you."
But it was too fun. Too thrilling. It felt too good. He couldn't stop, couldn't remember this was Hell, a place even more scammy than Earth. (Shocking.)
So now a squiggly smile etched its way across his brightened, boxy screen and another line of electricity danced between his long, pointy antennas. He rubbed at the back of his neck nervously and then decided he would take a drink to drown the excited beep which had surely been on its way out.
"Oh really, now?" Vincent chirped, a little anime sparkle in the corners of his big eyes. "The radio demon changing his mind about something? No one will believe it! They'll gaslight themselves into thinking that was how you felt the whole time." The smile widened into a mischievous one. "So when am I taking you to see one?"
Oh no, what have you done!
"Uhh, bee...beeecause you need m-moral support! New things are... are scaaaary..." he sputtered, trying to course correct. "Wouldn't want you to... to get so overwhelmed you ran out of the theater, right? Heh.. heh-heh..."
He gritted his teeth in an uncomfortable smile and took another drink, desperately. Fuck.
YOUNG ALASTOR
Alastor was smoothly going along with everything Vincent was saying, noticing just how much he was practically eating out of his hand. It was precious and adorable. He was torn between wanting to cultivate it and watching it crumble to pieces. His smile never wavered, matching the television's grin and sparkle. It was delicious to see the affable newbie overlord still starstruck by the Radio Demon. It actually made him pause and not want to take his voice. He was definitely going soft.
His eyes flashed for a brief moment as Vincent decided to rib him about changing his mind. He let out a quiet laugh, joy filling his face as he found it humorous. Truly people would never believe him. He was already so laid bare to this relative newcomer. He was glad that his reputation preceded him, but how much did people truly know about him?
A wry smirk crossed his face as Vincent made the bold move to ask him when they were going to go see a movie together. He sat back on the bar stool and eyed the fellow sinner for a long moment, face unreadable as Vincent desperately tried to add a little caveat in his reasoning, but the true reason had already been laid bare. However, he'd play along for now.
"Yes, of course. I'd be so safe and protected as long as you're there to comfort me when I get scared. Myyyyy hero! Whatever would I do without you?"
He cackled and brushed Vox's hand again as he grabbed his drink and took another long sip. This was pathetic, but not entirely unwelcome.
BAXTER
Baxter stared up at the screen completely slack jawed, almost like a guppy. Completely at a loss.
This is one of Vox's prioritized memories...? There was so much... touching. Soft glances here and there, shared laughter, jokes they both found funny...
They were... completely different people.
Also, this didn't seem like your typical pair of "not friends."
....What the Hell happened to them?
Just then, his eyes flickered to the corner where he realized he accidentally left the live video feed up as well...
VINCENT
The radio demon's laughter put Vincent more at ease, but it was short lived once Alastor did his silent inspection. The gaze lasted so long that Vincent began to shift, nervously. He looked away at first; the pressure was too great. But then... He looked back, bravely, to his credit. His big red eyes met the radio demon's smaller and shrewder ones.
How audacious (and unfortunate) for the younger TV demon that the topic of musicals had set a well known song from Hello, Dolly! playing in the back of his big, TV head at this very moment...
(Or you young ones might recognize it from Wall-E...)
🎶 It only takes a moment
For your eyes to meet and then 🎶
His eyes closed in blue-blushed laughter when Alastor called him out on his shit, but he found he didn't really mind. Then Alastor's hand brushed against his, causing a line of electricity to rise up from the tips of Vincent's blue clawed toes, all the way to the top of his head to finally leap between his antennas. His breath caught in his throat and his screen flickered to fuzzy static for just a moment.
🎶 Your heart knows in a moment
You will never be alone again!🎶
Despite the volume of the song in his head, Vincent tried desperately to respond in a not-stupid way.
"You'd... Well..." His brows furrowed in deep thought for a moment. Then he looked up with a sly grin. "You'd fall so behind on the fads that you'd become even more of a square than me!" he responded at last, pointing to his blocky head. "They'd call you Old Man Alastor and then you'd just end up on your porch with a radio and a shot gun." His eyes fell to the drinks. "And liquor."
YOUNG ALASTOR
Alastor couldn't help but notice the effect he was having on Vincent with each touch or brush he made. A blind man could tell the TV Sinner was utterly smitten and tripping over himself trying to engage in conversation worthy of the Radio Demon's time. Even Alastor had to admit, he was better than most.
He let out a wheezing laugh as Vincent pointed to his own square head and joked about being a square. It was clever. It was funny. It was self deprecating. All things he enjoyed.
"Yes! Haha! I do so enjoy a good murder and people staying off my property, but it would certainly be a very boring existence to waste away watching the world go by one drink at a time. But you're forgetting something Vincent and I'm surprised you've forgotten. I am the trend setter, you block head."
He tapped Vincent's screen with a finger, half looking like he was chastising him, but the other half was playful. Even the way he said block head was less of an insult and more a term of endearment.
At the same time, Alastor also had part of a song playing in his head. Also a musical.
🎵 I don't need you, and don't need anybody helpin' me
Well, I got it figured out for myself.
You're not important. What are you?
Nuthin' but a speck o' nuthin'🎶
He polished off his drink and ordered another.
"I suppose if I required some news in a visual medium... it wouldn't be the worst to have someone... close by to garner the information from." He gave a soft smile and finally placed his hand on top of Vincent's, leaving it there.
VINCENT
It worked! Sort of. Vincent's grin widened and he joined in the laughter. His giggles subsided in surprise when Alastor tapped his screen where a nose might have been. His eyes grew big and wide and his long antennas flicked forward in attention. His little slitted pupils crossed inward to stare at the red claw. This playful chastisement caused yet another blip of electricity to fire between his antennas.
"Oh... Right, right, sure..." Vincent amicably acquiesced, adjusting his little red tie. He laughed, finally finishing the drink and setting it down with a gentle tink. "But you know what they say... 'Seeing is believing."
The rest of the conversation was received in something of a haze because of the hand suddenly resting over his. Vincent's breath caught in his throat as he stared at their hands nestled together in shock and awe. His screen fizzled into static for a moment as the young TV demon's eyes remained stuck there until finally, finally, he found the courage to tilt that big, heavy "blockhead" up and see the returned gaze.
"Um... We...can... We should... do....that," he said at last, struggling not to glitch and embarrass himself. His antennas betrayed him yet again, though, with that bright blue spark they sputtered. "Anyone's first time is.. a lot," he added, trying to break this (seshual) tension that had been suddenly created.
YOUNG ALASTOR
Alastor couldn't help but find it endearing to see the TV demon so incredibly smitten. He wasn't exactly sure what these feelings were himself. Why did he place his hand on top of Vincent's? Why was he seeking touch rather than shying away from it. What about this man was drawing him in and making him doubt his own desires and goals?
"Seeing is believing hmm? And here I thought our eyes deceived us more often than any other sense. Makes us see things that aren't really there."
As he spoke, in the blink of an eye his eyes turned to radio dials and back again. He smirked for a moment before giving Vox's hand a reassuring squeeze and returning to a more playful and coy tone. He scooted forward and got close to Vincent’s face. Leaving about a foot between them.
"I hear first times can be painful. Perhaps we should go slow and... get well prepared first. Don't want to... rush into things you know? It'd be a shame to ruin a good thing."
His eyes turned half lidded as he suddenly interlocked their fingers together.
"So... when can I pencil you in?"
VINCENT
Time began to move very slowly for Vincent when the radio demon drew so close to him. A thrill shuddered through the TV demon’s body when Alastor’s eyes turned to radio dials for a moment, revealing a hint of the risk he was taking; a whiff of smoke from the fire he was playing with.
Elegantly dangerous. But the TV demon had no idea just how dangerous, then…
Is this really happening?!
The sounds of the bar were drowned out by the beating of his own heart. His hand, oh! It felt as though electricity was coursing through it without there being a single spark.
The sparks were there though, bounding across his antennas like joyous deer. Vincent’s twinkling eyes grew wider and wider, absolutely filling his blue flushing screen that stuttered into fuzzy static intermittently because of his nervousness.
Close, he’s so close, why is he so close?! Am I supposed to… Is. he supposed to….?
And then their fingers interlaced.
It took every ounce of willpower to keep his silly TV head from playing a triumphant fanfare with audience applause.
Somehow he managed but Vincent’s tie suddenly felt very tight. He didn’t dare touch it, though. He was entranced by the moment that seemed like it had a certain wild destination. And who was he to quench it?
So he closed his eyes and leaned forward.
Of course wouldn’t that be the time when some overzealous overlord wannabe lizard-like sinner would bust into the bar, guns out and firing wildly as he declared this a stickup! Patrons hit the deck to avoid the bullets, screaming and jumping out of windows. A couple fired back but were quickly taken out.
YOUNG ALASTOR
Alastor's eyes widened for a singular moment as he watched Vincent lean forward for a kiss. He glanced around the bar for a singular moment as he caught some patrons bold faced staring. They were always looking for a weakness. Always wanting to climb to the top of the mountain. Always wanting what he had. Always looking for something they could use as an advantage against him. He almost laughed. If they thought him showing affection to someone he fancied was a weakness, they'd be in for a hell of a surprise.
He closed his eyes and slowly leaned in to return the kiss. Ready to give a show for all the looky-loos and peeping Toms who were either salivating or sharpening their knives, waiting in the corners for Alastor to slip up.
Closer and closer their faces came until mere inches remained when suddenly they were interrupted by the aforementioned overlord wannabe. He opened his eyes and stood up quickly. The first two shots in their direction whizzed past before Alastor raised his shadowy shield, protecting himself and Vincent from a few more shots before his antlers grew in size and the green stitching appeared all over his clothes and body. He vanished from his barstool and appeared a split second later in front of the would-be robber.
"You.... sniveling wretch of a man! YOU JUST INTERRUPTED SOMETHING IMPORTANT!"
Alastor increased in size until he was almost the height of the ceiling as two tendrils wrapped around both of the man's legs. He was lifted into the air, flipped upside down, and both tendrils pulled tightly. The man screamed in pain as the sound of both of his hips popping could be heard as they were dislocated. Alstor didn't let up however, he kept pulling and pulling until the man was ripped in half. Organs spilled on the ground and blood spattered onto the wall before both halves were tossed into Alastor's waiting mouth and promptly chewed and swallowed whole.
A moment later Alastor was back to his normal size, mouth red from the blood as he turned and walked back to his seat beside the man who had his attention. He took a napkin and politely wiped his mouth before clearing his throat and turning back to Vox with the same look as before.
"My apologies... where were we?"
VINCENT
“Sweet unholy fuck…”
Vincent watched in shock and awe and a little fright as Alastor made short work of the idiot who’d interrupted what might have been the most important moment in his afterlife. Everything had gone from super slow motion to chaotically high speed in a fraction of a second. One moment their faces were an inch apart and then suddenly, this.
And Alastor protecting him. {%^#!
Not that Vincent was afraid to fight. He enjoyed fisticuffs now and again, but with a breakable screen for a face, he was often at a disadvantage. He didn’t have those handy cables under his control yet. He had his (then weaker) electrokinesis and his voice, all best used from a distance.
But then, the shooter was dispatched by the radio demon so quickly that Vincent didn’t have to worry about it very long…
Eyes all around the bar stared. Some started to clap. Soon, the entire establishment was applauding. And while Vincent applauded with them, his heart sank because he knew that their magical moment was gone.
It wasn’t long before patrons began to congratulate Alastor in person, eventually crowding out the less confident TV demon. It felt far too impolite to interrupt the Great Alastor’s plaudits, so Vincent didn’t fight it. Truth be told he was a little disturbed by it, even though this wasn’t the first time he’d seen Alastor in that form.
A little scary. A little hot. A little hot because it was scary…
Many mixed feelings ran through Vincent, buzzing in his head along with the buzz from the alcohol. Too many thoughts to mitigate. So many people. So many feelings.
He slowly backed away from the bar, letting the radio demon be surrounded in audience approval without him, which felt a little bad, but the situation was too confusing to fully comprehend in his now busily processing computer brain. Overwhelmed, he decided to take his leave, pausing only to wave goodbye to the radio demon before he slipped out of the door. There was so much. He just needed time alone to think and understand what had almost happened tonight.
Unfortunately that understanding would never come…
BAXTER
If he was confused before? Oh… Holy Hells was he confused now. What… in the seven rings was he witnessing? The music? The drama? Was Vox actually leaning in for a…?
And…
Was Alastor was about to reciprocate…?
Now, he’s not one to understand the complexities of romance or love or any of that mess, but it was clear as BLOODY day. Even someone as oblivious to flirting and pulling moves as Baxter could register there was nothing friendly about this interaction!
Then chaos ensued and he blinked, honestly quite fascinated and harrowed by the ability to tear a man clean in half... Protecting? Vox? With what he said... it was 'important?'
"Wh..." He gasped, "This can't be right..."
This wasn’t something he could have ever imagined in his wildest dreams. Is it possible he accidentally filtered in one of Vox’s fantasies instead of his memories? He glanced up at the corner livestream again, feeling a knot of… discomfort in his gut.
It felt… Scandalous to watch them like this, but he didn’t necessarily want to stop either.
So, he sipped on his coffee and leaned in despite the feeling, secretly rooting for Alastor to appear on-screen once more. To seek out the cowardly ‘Vincent’ who ran off at the first sign of a forming crowd. Which was very uncharacteristic of him… He thrived in that type of environment now.
"Go get him, you idiot..." he mumbled mid sip, frustratedly watching with his brows knitting together.
YOUNG ALASTOR
Alastor was taken aback as he was suddenly applauded and crowded by so many people that wanted to thank him, congratulate him, show their appreciation. It was jarring. It was uncomfortable. It was interrupting a very important moment... appointment. Appointment. He searched the crowd for Vincent, wanting to continue where they'd been so rudely interrupted. He had finally broken through. He finally found someone who was worth his time and energy. Someone who was willing to see him as something other than a means to an end and a potential source of power. Someone whose touch he found he leaned into rather than away from.
As he felt the crowd closing in, becoming rather overwhelming, he resisted the urge to slice a tendril through them all in fear he'd slice Vincent in half as well. Surely he was still in there. Surely he was just waiting his turn and things could resume before they were interrupted.
He scanned the crowd and finally caught a glimpse of Vincent... leaving. He'd scared him off. Too powerful for him. Too intimidating. Too scary. Too violent. Vincent was too weak to understand. He'd had his shot and blown it. As Vincent ran away, waving his arm like he was pretending to care, Alastor's eyes shifted. In an instant they changed from overwhelmed to soft upon seeing Vincent to hardening upon seeing him walking away. He wouldn't forget this. He'd never forgive this. If Vincent was going to run away upon seeing him protect him and be this powerful, then so be it. He'd never be worthy.
Alastor just stared at Vincent until he left the bar before turning to all those still crowding around him. It had become critically overstimulating. Too many people. Too many weaklings.
The next day, the news headlines read of a massacre in Alastor's bar that night. A fire burned the entire building down. The bodies were so badly burned they couldn't even be identified. There were no survivors.
BAXTER
The memory cut as soon as Vox left the building, scampering off and abandoning Alastor with the crowd and leaving Baxter with a look of confusion, disappointment and a sense of dread.
He was definitely not supposed to see that.
Regardless. Checking his logs, he could see that the next time they met up after this occurrence; It was the fated ‘fallout.’ The bitter end of their slowly blooming relationship.
He sat back and made a face at the screen. Scrunching his nose up and squinting at the files to see if something was amiss. Could there be more he's missing? Hiding, even? What about a secret folder?
Or… could this have been the moment...?
What exactly went so insanely wrong here? Was it the fight? Could it be the longing glances? Touches? Or... had it just been a case of the time period they were in? Where vulnerability— not to mention— being in love with another member of your sex was heavily frowned upon. Ah, the repercussions were not pretty back then, even in Hell.
Prejudice and judgement lurked everywhere. Horrible people doing terrible things would still blame your identity for the reason you ended up here. Shallow bastards. Little did they know it was for human experimentation and NOT for being interested in both genders. Fools. The lot of them.
—Alas, that is to say, the backlash could have been vile in that moment of history… Perhaps that is what caused it. But… Don't they know it's acceptable now? They didn't need to play all of these games…
Is that why Vox got so upset regarding being called out for his less-than-heterosexual behavior? When he has that queer moth attached to his hip?
No, no… It couldn't be that simple. Could it? Something far deeper was happening here that he couldn't quite reach with his lack of understanding. Though, it was very clear, at least on the surface, there was mutual respect for one another
Something remains unspoken...
With this in mind, he jotted down a few notes before packing up, shutting everything down and heading to sleep.