Chapter Text
Humans were extraordinarily silly, the men in particular. They had always something to whine about, and yet they had no idea how good they had it!
What more could they want with a planet full of exciting and ever-changing opportunities and, most important of all, a near endless stock of warm, juicy animals to feast on.
And yet, they summoned him and tried to hunt him instead.
Well, Alastor couldn’t blame them for their stupidity, when that was, in fact, exactly what he came to earth for, regularly. Getting his brain blown to pieces by a bullet was a special kind of thrill he simply couldn’t get in Hell, and the look in their eyes was priceless, whenever they realized the shapeshifting demon, who could appear as both a young buck and a man, had tricked them into gambling their souls away to him.
Naturally, there were animals roaming around in Hell as well, but they were decidedly less plump and less fun to hunt, being eternally cursed and all. Therefore, Alastor regularly traveled to the human realm, if only to snag himself a stag or two. Oh, and bagging a deal with one of these silly humans was definitely a nice bonus too for the cheery and mischievous deer demon.
But dragging that full-grown animal down to Hell with him was a lot of work, especially for someone as small as him. He wasn’t blessed with height, despite how lanky he appeared in his hellish form, but he could definitely pull his weight.
By the time he came back, he was starved. Alastor didn’t even bother going far with his spoils, though his dizziness maybe also had to do with the fact that half his brain matter was still missing.
In any case, upon arriving back in Hell, he avoided its noisy streets and instead stepped out of the shadows into his preferred terrain – the desolate and eerie wastelands of whatever passed for a forest in Hell.
These were decidedly better here than on earth, Alastor thought. Even if they lacked the kind of variety that would sate his never-ending hunger.
But at least he was alone, or in any case, not surrounded by annoying, noisy creatures who’d dare interrupt him when his mealtime was about to begin. Back in his human form, Alastor stretched his claws toward the animal carcass on the ground and was about to dig in, mouth already salivating, when he heard a rustling noise right behind him.
He turned around, ears twitching with curiosity, and stared as the intruder, quite noisily, fell from one of the thorny bushes surrounding them.
“Golly! Nobody warns you about these things in the city. Stupid bush almost ripped my antenna clean off!”
Alastor cocked his head to the side as he tried to assess what in Satan’s Hell he was even looking at.
The little guy was, if Alastor had to guess, a humble three feet tall. Completely clad in a muted brown suit with gray stripes, a matching bowtie and dress shoes to boot, he looked rather dapper.
But what was up with his head?
Instead of a regularly shaped face, Alastor stared right back into a grayscale screen, a picture box that was far too large and unwieldy for the little guy’s puny body.
Two large antennae poked out from beneath a top hat.
His screen wasn’t blank, though. Two large, expressive eyes and a big mouth, complete with square teeth smiled back at the deer demon – once he disentangled himself from the thorny bush, that was.
“Hello, who are you?” Alastor asked, momentarily forgetting the meat that was quickly decaying in Hell’s putrid landscape.
The little guy gave a few strained grunts as he smoothed down his suit and adjusted his top hat before squaring his shoulders at the shapeshifter. Only once he was apparently pleased with the confident picture of competence he wanted to exude did he start speaking again.
“Hello, Mr. Alastor, I am Vox, you have probably heard of me before.”
Alastor pursed his lips and tried to remember if he had ever heard of such an eccentric little fellow before. But he could recall nothing – and not just because half of his brain was still missing!
“Hmm, no,” he cheered, and turned back to his dead stag.
Now, where to start? He could crack open the skull first and slurp out the brain. There could’ve been some poetic justice to that, considering his own wasn’t fully regenerated yet. But due to the blood loss he had suffered – though it really couldn’t be called suffering when, in fact, he had been manically laughing the whole time – he was also hankering for that juicy, bloody liver.
While Alastor contemplated which part of the stag to feast on first, the little man behind him sputtered, making the most hilarious noises as he stomped his feet.
“Wait, don’t ignore me!”
Alastor sank to his knees but didn’t bother turning back.
“You bore me, and I’m hungry. So no, I’m not buying anything from you.”
The little guy behind him made a noise that sounded like a faulty signal going loose, all electric and stuttering. Hm, perhaps that’s what the antennae were for. Alastor still didn’t understand why they were so long though, they made the boxy guy look like a bug.
“I’m not here to sell anything! I’m just–…ugh. I’ve been watching you for some time.”
That, at least, made Alastor turn back to him, still on his knees. This way, their height difference was reduced, even if the other man still only reached his chest. The deer demon narrowed his eyes at the little box man called Vox.
Oh, that was rather clever, wasn’t it? Box-Vox, heh.
“Why?”
Alastor watched as Vox blinked rapidly, and a strange gray haze settled over his screen before he spoke again.
“Because… because you’re weird!”
Huh, the pot was calling the kettle black. How bold!
“You have a picture box for a head,” Alastor argued back, not quite sure why he was even having this conversation when he was so, so hungry.
He almost had in mind to eat Vox, but the possibility of wires getting stuck in his teeth was not a tempting one. And besides, the suit Vox wore was far too nice to ruin. Alastor could appreciate a good sense of fashion, after all.
“Sometimes, you disappear for days! I know what you’re doing, you’re going back to earth aren’t you? That’s where you got this animal,” Vox concluded, pointing at the carcass behind Alastor.
“Did you follow me because you’re hungry?” Alastor asked, still trying to make sense of the talking picture box’s motives. Panic shot up his spine and his eyes widened before he vehemently shook his head, adding: “I’m not sharing my food with you!”
“I don’t want your food!” Vox stomped his feet again, his screen-face now almost obscured by the hazy fuzz of static that overtook it.
“What do you want then?”
That question finally stopped the agitated picture box in his tracks, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in, though Alastor wondered how he even managed that with no visible mouth other than that projection on his screen.
Somehow, it helped calm the little guy down anyway, because when he opened his eyes again, the haze on his screen was gone and instead, he glowed brighter, eyes large, round and full of hope.
“I came here because I want you to become my wife.”
Alastor cocked his head to the side, ears twisting toward the silly and possibly insane picture box.
“Wife? But I’m not a girl, aren’t wives supposed to be girls?”
Vox blinked at him, and although he didn’t look embarrassed by his odd request, he did tap his fingers thoughtfully against his screen.
“Oh, I didn’t think about that… actually, I’m not sure,” he trailed off, staring up at the crimson sky. “I mean, yeah, technically, you’d be my husband, but that’s just semantics, y’know. It’s fine either way. At least we don’t have to bother with the registry office, being in Hell and all. Because let me tell you, gorgeous, back on earth we couldn’t get married. Total bullshit, right?”
“But why do you want us to get married at all?” Alastor asked, cutting off Vox’s rambling.
On top of being a picture box, the guy was obviously a chatter box too. And yet, Alastor couldn’t muster up proper annoyance at the odd little fellow. This was the most entertaining conversation he’d had in months!
Finally, the noisy box glanced back at him, and a little bit of that gray fuzz crept back on his screen. He squared his shoulders again as the ends of his antennae lit up with a fascinating glow that had Alastor wanting to chew on them.
“Because I want us to become the most powerful and amazing duo Hell has ever seen! I know you’re powerful, and my programs are about to become the hottest, most sought after thing ever. With you by my side, Hell will bow to us, and we’re going to have so much fun,” he declared, animatedly waving his hands about.
“Uh-huh…”
“Also, I got you these!”
Alastor blinked, dumbstruck, as Vox slipped a hand into the inner lining of his suit jacket and pulled out a ridiculously large, beautifully vibrant bouquet of flowers. How did that even fit in there, and more importantly, where did he get them from?
They looked so fresh and lovely, there was no way these were from the Pentagram. Even if he got them from some supplier who could travel between the realms, it must’ve cost the silly fellow a fortune.
And that was rather touching, actually.
“Those are pretty,” Alastor acknowledged, taking the flowers from Vox’s outstretched hand.
They wouldn’t last long in this climate and the general doom and gloom that surrounded him, but maybe he could eat those too – as a little side salad to his meat.
“Not as pretty as you, darling,” Vox grinned back at him, far too cocky for a guy his size.
He pulled both antennae back, those long flopping things, as though he was slicking back hair. He then crossed one leg over the other and leaned to the side, to lasciviously brace himself against a tree.
Only there was no tree, and the idiot box landed face first in the dirt with a loud yelp as his screen hit the ground.
“Damn, I messed that up,” he whined into the grass.
Still holding onto the flowers, Alastor laughed, a grin splitting his face wide as he couldn’t hold it in any longer.
This little creature was hilariously odd, properly insane and really quite intriguing, too. He seemed absurdly devoted to the deer demon already, and although Alastor had never hankered after a partner, perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
He could play along, and if the picture box became too annoying, Alastor would simply kill him, or better yet, lock him into some soul-crushing deal.
That was more or less what women did back on earth with their tiresome husbands, right? If humans were good at one thing, it was terrorizing each other.
“Okay, I’ll be your wife,” Alastor shrugged. “Just don’t call me that in front of others.”
Without looking, or even attempting to help Vox up from the ground, he turned back to his stag, not without first neatly placing the flowers by the animal’s head. Those would be for later.
Some more loud rustling and sputtering behind him proved that the picture box had managed to get off the floor all by himself, at least.
“Oh, gee whiz, is it really true? I am a married man now?!” he burst out.
“Mhm, congratulations. Now let me eat my food.”
He still couldn’t reach for the carcass because a pair of arms suddenly wrapped around him, hauling him back with a strength he had not expected from someone so small.
Alastor ears shot up straight in surprise when he was pulled flush against Vox’s chest. His own head ended up right beside that boxy one. Strands of his hair lifted from the static Vox emanated, and a pleasant warmth buzzed and vibrated through his ears.
And Vox was laughing giddily, right into those deer ears.
“Oh honey, we’re going to have so much fun!”