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“You’re inspiring, really,” Vox said. “And when you think about it, modern entertainment actually started with radio.” It wasn’t the first time he’d talked someone up to get on their good side, but this time he meant it, every word.
“Mmmm.” The smile didn’t leave Alastor’s face—it never did—but at this point Vox knew to read more into it than that. The response was lackluster, Al was staring down at his drink—he was losing his friend’s interest already.
“Ah, am I boring you with my compliments?” he asked, glancing to the side.
“Perhaps,” Alastor admitted, glancing over at Vox. Fuck. Ugh, okay, he could still land this, he just had to keep his cool.
“Well look,“ Vox continued, looking back at Alastor. “I’ll just get to the point.” He leaned a bit closer. “We’ve been close for a few years now, right? I mean people know us, they love us.”
That had always been the plan from the moment he approached Alastor. Get on Alastor’s good side, get his guard down, stage a tragic accident. He’d mourn the man’s death with everyone else and continue on ‘their’ legacy, leaving him at the top spot in Hell, exactly where Alastor used to be.
What he hadn’t planned on was genuinely enjoying the man’s company—far beyond a cordial business relationship. It had gotten to the point that he genuinely admired Alastor more than he envied him, it had gotten to the point he didn’t want to remove him from the equation anymore. Because this…this was a man who understood him the way no one else ever could. This was a man he wanted to share this with.
“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 the man chuckle. God, even that little laugh made Vox’s heart leap. “I know, okay, but I’m much more forward-thinking, so it’s in your best interest to hear me out.” The earlier hints of boredom had vanished from Alastor’s expression, leaving only the warm, genuine smile he’d slowly fallen in love with.
“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.
“So, I’ve been thinking Alastor,” Vox continued, watching the man’s gaze return to him, “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 made no sign of lack of interest, so Vox pressed forward.
“...we would be unstoppable. Radio and video. Me and you—” He placed both hands on Alastor’s shoulders, leaning in. The sound of his own heart pounding was so loud, he was afraid Alastor might hear it. “—we could rule Hell,” Vox continued, gaining more and more confidence by the second as he stood up straight again, “together, as partners.” Then, with the brightest, most sincere smile, he extended a hand to Alastor, waiting for him to take it. He’d pictured every iteration of this scenario at least a dozen times over the past week—he was confident his pitch was a good one, and it seemed to be going well. But he had come prepared for the tiny, minute chance that Alastor would decline too. And he had things prepared for that. After all, the worst he could say is ‘no’ right?
Alastor stared a moment, let out a few small chuckles, then burst into laughter. Vox’s heart sank, his smile fading. Why…why was he laughing?
“Oh, that’s—” Alastor began, leaning down to look at Vox’s still extended hand, glancing up at Vox, and then managing an incredulous “Oh, you’re serious?” before doubling over into more laughter. Vox dropped his hand.
He wasn’t prepared for this.
“Oh, come now Vox,” Alastor continued, propping himself up with his elbow, “I knew you could be pathetic at times, but I didn’t realize you were so weak!”
“Eh-heh…what?” Vox chuckled uneasily, though he could only hold the smile for a few seconds before it fell again. For whatever reason, that seemed to amuse Alastor even more.
“Oh, FUCK!” he laughed, grabbing at his own hair before doubling over with laughter again. The pain in Vox’s chest rose slowly but surely, like a heavy weight slowly pressing harder and harder.
“You need me to join your team!” Alastor exclaimed. “And here I thought you might actually be approaching my level. But asking for assistance? A partnership? I am quite disappointed in you.”
‘Disappointed in you’ hit like a knife, tearing into his chest and introducing a sharper pain to the blunt force slowly crushing his heart. That was something he’d heard very, very often in life, but this was the first time he’d heard it in Hell. He thought he was past that, he thought he was better than that.
Vox sat back down, staring at his lap as his vision began to blur. He tried to force words out despite the ache in his chest.
“I…I just thought…you know, since we were friends—”
“FRIENDS?” Alastor repeated incredulously, leaning in closer as Vox looked back up. “There are no friends in Hell, Vincent!” That name hit him like a second knife, tearing mercilessly into an already open wound. Vox had let his name in life slip a while ago while they were drinking, and explained to Alastor why he changed it. ’Vincent’ was who he was in life, a previous era, one he couldn’t improve upon. Vox was who he was now, the figurative and soon-to-be literal voice of the people of Hell—save of course Lilith herself, obviously.
“I thought that was something you understood! How embarrassing.” Vox could feel tears welling as his heart finally shattered, leaving him with the same emptiness he’d always felt. Except now it was worse, because he really thought he had something. He thought this was something. Was it never anything to Alastor? Was he really just an idiot?
No. He had a good idea, he knew it was a good idea, and if Alastor didn’t want to be a part of that? Fine. But who did he think he was laughing at him like that? Heartbreak quickly shifted to rage so quickly that, within the next second, Vox was swinging a fist at Alastor’s face.
The man just vanished into shadow before the punch could connect, leaving Vox staring at the spot Alastor had been seconds ago, then looking around to see where he went. He noticed a few of the other patrons staring now, but not a single face was Alastor’s.
“My, my, you really don’t take rejection well, do you?” The familiar voice came from behind him, causing Vox to whip around to see that smug smile. The anger quickly rose again, boiling over in nearly an instant.
“FUCK you!”
Alastor tilted his head. “Really? That’s the best response you can come up with?”
Vox’s eyes immediately widened, countless voices from across his life echoing through his head.
“Really? A B+? That’s the best you could do?”
“Understudy? That’s seriously the best you could do, Vince?”
“Weatherman? That’s the best you could do Vincent?”
It was never enough. Nothing he did was ever enough. He was never enough. Vincent was never enough. But Vox would be.
With a cry of rage, he lunged forward, watching Alastor melt into shadow again as that laugh seemed to echo from every corner of the room. Vox crashed to the ground face-first before scrambling to his feet. He tried to ignore the pain as he became vividly aware of just how many eyes were on them now. It was only by sheer force of will that he forced his gaze back to Alastor, who had reappeared back where he started.
“Maybe it will work the third time” Alastor offered gleefully.
Vox’s eyes narrowed. He knew it would be stupid to try it again, but he was too angry to think straight, too hurt to come up with anything better. He took a step forward, fully intending to just lunge at the man a third time. When he did though, there was a flash of light, and suddenly he was right on top of Alastor. The other demon’s eyes were wide, and the smile—while still present—was definitely a pained one.
For a moment, both of them just stared at each other in shock until Alastor shoved Vox off with a grunt of pain and frustration. Once they were both at their feet again, Vox was the one smiling. He wasn’t exactly sure what he did or how he did it, but he sure fucking did do it! And it clearly pissed Alastor off.
“Not so fucking untouchable now, are you, Al?”
Alastor’s eyes glowed red, pupils suddenly turning to dials as his smile grew even more strained. The sound of radio static crackled loudly through the air as four tendrils of shadow launched at Vox, grabbing each of his limbs and violently pinning him against the far wall. The pain of the impact was enough to wipe the smile off Vox’s own face. He half-noticed some people making an exit now, but his focus was primarily locked on Alastor as the man walked closer. With every step, that smile slowly became less and less strained, slowly morphed back into a genuine one that reached his eyes. One he used to love, one he used to adore.
“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” With a thunderous laugh, Alastor threw him into the bar. The corner of the counter hit his ribs at full force, knocking the wind out of him as his face simultaneously slammed against the flat surface.
“You never have!,” Alastor continued. “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.”
Vox shakily got to his feet, clutching his side as he felt warm blood seep through his clothes. Alastor yanked him closer again with another tendril, bringing their faces inches away from one another. The look in his face was one he’d never seen before; something predatory, but not in the way Alastor usually looked at his prey. He couldn’t place exactly what was different though, not with the pain in his head and side muddying his thoughts. Even so…for a moment Vox wondered if this was it. He knew exactly what Alastor did to Overlords who pissed him off—everyone did. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Alastor finally spoke.
“You’re pathetic,” he sneered. “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.” With that, Alasto flung Vox over into the bar again, causing him to crumble into another heap.
“Goodbye, Vincent.”
Vox managed to look up just in time to see Alastor vanish into shadow once more, leaving him completely alone in the bar. He felt tears welling up in both eyes, but he angrily forced them back, getting up with a groan. As Vox limped out of the building, he was filled with a hatred that burned sharper and hotter than the pain in his side, face, and chest combined.