Chapter Text
Alastor wouldn’t have thought that being stripped of his role as strongest sinner would feel so invigorating. He had always assumed it would leave a bitter taste in his mouth. An event that would make him lick his wounds before planning his comeback.
Yet, hearing Charlie strip him of his title and hand it over to Vox must have been one of the best feelings Alastor could possibly hope for.
Excitement rushes through him as he watches the scene before him. His mind races as Vox boasts from his place on stage, power surging as Vox’s screens lit up with his ridiculous black and red spiral.
And he couldn’t help but laugh when the feeling swells as Vox’s hands find Charlie’s shoulders.
Alastor’s mind buzzes as he looks away from the screen and breaks free from his final chain. As he mocks Vox onstage. As that same hypnotic pattern swirls in his eye.
The feeling morphs into glee as the two fight, forms shifting and claws scratching on one another. The buzzing at the back of his mind becomes white noise, keeping him focused as he launches debris at Vox. As he tears into his wires. As he watches him spiral on top of the Might of Lilith.
He had assumed it had been adrenaline. A thrill from the fight. A thrill from finally being free from his deals.
And while it doesn’t disappear, it does fade into the background. Barely noticeable against the cacophony of noise at the hotel.
Charlie excitedly runs around the lobby barely a week later, jumping from one area to the next in order to check in with guests both new and old.
Vaggi’s not too far behind her, apologizing for her girlfriend’s energy before rushing off and following in her lead.
Niffty stands on a barstool across the room, wiping down the bar’s counter as Husk chews out a guest for one thing or another.
It was painfully normal, nothing going awry that would call for Alastor’s interference. Nothing that required his attention.
“Alastor!”
Or at least up until now.
Slowly, Alastor turns to Charlie as she runs up to him, pamphlets in hand. She’s out of breath by the time she reaches him.
“I’m so sorry, but would you be able to pass these around?” she asks, already shoving the pamphlets into Alastor’s hands. His ears flick, and he can feel his shadow lapping at his shoes in annoyance. “I need to print more but also don’t want to leave a gap in between guests coming in and potentially missing out on it.”
He looks the piece of folded paper over, smile thinning at the cruel drawing of the staff on its cover. Alastor chooses to ignore his cheery depiction and instead unfurls one of the pamphlets, quickly being met with a schedule of different events and group therapy sessions followed by a brief blurb about the hotel.
It details the hotel’s rough start, covering everyone’s involvement in both running the hotel, their battle against Adam and the exorcists, and their feud with the Vees.
Alastor can’t help but linger on the last section. On how Charlie - because it was so clearly Charlie who wrote the blurb if the flowery writing is anything to go by - took the time to focus on Alastor’s own involvement. About how grateful she was for Alastor supposedly ‘taking one for the team’ and finding a way to get Vox to put an end to his slander of the hotel, even if she didn’t approve of his methods.
There is a focus on Alastor’s distaste for Vox. On their rivalry.
The buzzing in his head grows louder.
“Thank you so much, I really appreciate your help!” exclaims Charlie, and Alastor’s eyes snap up to find her already halfway up the stairs.
His ears press back as he grumbles under his breath, folding the pamphlet in on itself before - begrudgingly - passing it out.
He doesn’t bother to meet the eyes of guests he hands pamphlets to, most of the time he doesn't even make the effort to make sure they even made it into their hands. If the paper fell onto their mess of a floor that was their problem.
It's only once he’s gotten through half of the stack that something catches his eye.
A little red ball standing tall amongst the crowd, nobody paying it any mind as they mingle and drink.
Red isn’t an uncommon sight within the hotel, it isn’t even an uncommon sight in the Pride ring, but something about it drew his attention. It called to him, wishing to usher him over.
Then, a bird-like guest throws their head back in a laugh. Not far, but far enough to reveal a second ball, lower than the first but both attached to a wire.
Alastor’s legs are moving before he can stop himself.
The guest gives a squawk as Alastor shoves them out of the way, Alastor’s eyes scanning where the two red balls had once been, but he finds nothing. Merely empty air and a wall.
His eyebrows furrow, turning around to scan the room for any sign of who he had seen. Of…
“Dude! Get your claws off my face,” exclaims the guest. Alastor turns to them, and the guest shrinks in on themself. “Please?”
Alastor watches them for a moment before retracting his hand. “Apologies, I had been looking for something,” he says, wiping his hand on his coat and dropping some pamphlets at the guest’s feet.
He leaves before the guest or their friends can respond, their eyes boring into the back of his skull.
His own eyes scan the crowd, searching for any sort of sign of those balls - those antennae - but they had long since disappeared. Out of sight.
But they don’t leave his mind. Instead he keeps an eye out, eyes flicking to every phone in sight. Ears twitching at every phone notification. Waiting for him to show himself. Waiting for him to zap into existence.
“You ok there, boss?”
Alastor flinches at the sound of Husker’s voice, his shoulders stiffening as he whips around to face him.
“Peachy.” Alastor’s smile is tight, but Husk doesn’t seem convinced as he squints at him.
“Right,” Husk drums his claws against the bar. “Because you’re always this jumpy.”
Alastor approaches the bar, resting his arm on its counter as he waves him off. “You caught me while I was lost in thought.”
Husk eyes him before rolling his eyes. “Whatever, none of my fuckin’ business I guess.”
Niffty hands Husk the rag she had been using. He takes it and winces, chucking it into a nearby bin with a wet slap.
Husk grimaces at the sound and turns to her. “That better have been booze you were wiping up.”
“We’ll never know,” is all Nifty says before turning to Alastor. “Are you still free to watch the show tomorrow? Baxter and I have been training the roaches really hard for their performance.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Alastor says, leaning down to meet her eye.
She gives a squeal, turning to Husk. “And you?”
Husk’s face softens. “Schedules been cleared after I clock out tomorrow.”
Niffty’s practically vibrating, jumping from one foot to the other. “It’s going to be so good. You know, Baxter’s been super helpful with his improvements. The roaches have never been this perfect with their performances. I’m so glad he wanted to start a partnership.”
“We could rule Hell, together, as partners.”
Alastor nails dig into the bar as those words, head whipping around with a snap as he searches the crowd for its source.
A sentence once spoken to him with excitement dulled down to a mere whisper. Right in his ear. Mocking him.
“What the fuck, Alastor?”
His head snaps back into place at Husk’s voice. Husk’s ears have pressed back, pupils thinning as he glares down at the long scratch marks Alastor has left on the bar counter.
Alastor sends one last look over his shoulder before wiping his hand across the scratches, the indents distorting before smoothing over.
“Good as new,” Alastor says, voice tight.
Nifty jumps onto the bar, eye squinting up at Alastor. “Are you sure there isn’t anything wrong?”
“Now, Niffty, even if there was, I am more than capable of handling it,” Alastor says, patting her head. He looks to the flyers still in his other hands, now crinkled under his tight grip. “But, if you’d like to help with something else…” He drops the flyers on the bar, and Niffty leans over to look at them. “Pass these around for me? I’m much too busy for this.”
Niffty enthusiastically nods her head, scooping up the flyers and scrambling off the bar.
He takes a moment to watch her go from group to group. She finds a multitude of ways to shove the flyers in the faces of different guests, excitedly saying something to have them take it before moving on to her next victim.
Alastor doesn’t spare Husk another glance as he steps away from the bar, but he doubts Husk minds.
The rest of the day goes about how Alastor expects.
Charlie hosting therapy sessions, Vaggi barking orders at him, and residents avoiding him at all costs.
But every now and again he’d see something amongst the crowd.
A filtered laugh coming from Charlie’s session.
A blue spark racing across the room behind Vaggi before disappearing.
A blue claw ushering other residents away from him, but when he sends his shadow to investigate it comes back with nothing.
He never finds the source.
Alastor tries to reach out himself, trying to subtly poke around at any foreign signals within the hotel, but nothing has changed. All he can feel in the air are the same frequencies from the technology surrounding them.
He lets his own frequency linger in the air as the day progresses, but nothing responds. Nothing pokes at it or makes itself known.
All he receives is silence, and it makes his skin prickle.
So Alastor’s left on edge as he’s making his way down the hallway.
On edge as he looks up and sees a figure with a cubed head round a corner.
On edge as he races forward and reaches out without thinking.
Alastor’s by them within seconds, latching onto the figures arm as the lights flicker above. The figure jerks at the touch.
Alastor’s mouth doesn’t move as he speaks, teeth glowing as his voice filters through them. “I’ve found you, you insufferable-”
The figure whips around to face Alastor, eyes wide and teeth clenched.
Dull green teeth with matching green eyes.
The flickering above stops as Alastor’s grip loosens, and the figure - a sinner with a slab of concrete for a head - wastes no time in running.
Alastor watches as they go. As they round a corner and disappear from sight.
His smile thins as he runs a hand through his hair, grip on his staff tight as he begins to retreat. As he lets himself melt into the shadows to race back to his room.
Alastor’s hands are still gripping at his hair by the time he reemerges, doing his best to run through his day. To piece together what he had thought he’d seen. What wasn’t truly there.
He had been so sure he’d seen him, that he was hiding out in the hotel, but why wouldn’t he show himself? Why hide away from them? From Alastor?
What was the point? What was he hiding? What was he planning?
“Nothing really, I just thought it’d be nice to pay you a visit.”
Alastor stills.
Slowly, so very slowly, he brings his hands from his head but he doesn’t let them fall at his side. They hover in the air as he turns and stiffens.
Vox gives a soft smile, head cocking to the side as he meets Alastor’s gaze. “Hey, Al.”
Alastor acts without hesitation.
A shadow surges at Vox, but he disappears within a blink of an eye. His shadow instead pierces the wall where he once stood, and Alastor’s eyes dart around the room in search of where he could have gone.
“Hope that won’t be too expensive to fix.”
Alastor whips around, shadows leaking off of him as Vox watches him with his hands on his hips.
He braces himself, shadows bubbling at his feet as Vox raises his hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m not here to fight.”
Alastor blinks and flinches as Vox disappears from sight. His head whips around, eyes quickly finding Vox as he sits on the edge of his bed.
“I just wanted to catch up,” Vox says, resting a hand on Alastor’s bedsheets. “It’s been a while.”
“It’s barely been a week.”
Vox’s antennae shifts, straightening up into the air. “Has it?”
Alastor opens his mouth to respond, but his words die on his tongue as he finally takes in Vox’s form.
His antennae flicks above his head, a once bent antenna straightened and looming over the other. An old sweater vest Alastor hadn’t seen in decades covers his torso, just as neat and wrinkle free as the day Vox had bought it.
But what’s most jarring is Vox’s head. Square, bulky, and old. Something Alastor never expected Vox to use ever again.
He is familiar but different. Older. Not as flashy.
“What is this?” Alastor eventually manages to ask, eyes scanning over Vox’s screen as his smile tightens.
“I want to catch up with-“
“Not what I meant.” Alastor’s shadows shoot up to wrap around Vox, but he zaps out of his grasp before they can settle around him. “Valentino took your body and you went back to this?”
“I didn’t want this thing back,” Vox says, knocking at the side of his CRT. There’s a weight on Alastor’s shoulder, pulling Alastor back as a breath ghosts against his ear. “You did.”
Alastor spins around, eyes wide as he watches Vox. Watches the way he retracts his hand with a cool expression. Vox’s smile is small, but painfully familiar. “I’m not here to fight.”
“Then you’re here to what?” Alastor straightens himself, his grip on his staff tight. “Mock? After your little display I doubt you’re in any place to taunt me.”
“I just want to talk.” Alastor’s ear flicks to his left, and he turns his head to find Vox leaning on his fireplace, arm resting above his head. “Catch up a bit.”
“Excuse me for not believing you.”
Vox pushes himself from the wall, eyes soft as he steps towards Alastor. “You never did, did you?”
Alastor’s smile twitches as he swings his staff at Vox, who doesn’t attempt to move. Who doesn’t even flinch.
Instead he stands with his hands behind his back, eyes locked onto Alastor as his staff attempts to make contact.
Only for Vox to flicker out of view and let Alastor’s staff pass through thin air.
Alastor stumbles forward, the weight of his swing throwing him off balance. He heaves as he catches onto the wall to stabilize himself, eyes darting around to try and catch sight of Vox. To find any hint of blue.
But there’s nothing. Not even a spark as he pushes off the wall and adjusts his suit.
“Come on out, Vox,” he calls out, only to be met with silence. “What, too weak for a fight? Afraid you’ll lose?”
The silence presses on, and Alastor’s jaw tightens as he closes his eyes as he sends his shadow out of his room and reaches out. He searches for Vox’s frequency, doing his best to latch onto it, but he’s once again met with nothing. Dead air.
His shadow returns not too long after, shaking his head once more with a shrug of his shoulders.
Vox isn’t in the hotel anymore, but he’d no doubt be back.
And Alastor will be ready whenever he does.
The first thing Alastor does the next morning is search for Charlie.
And fix his wall. That was probably something he should’ve done last night, but he had been rather preoccupied with sorting through Vox’s little visit.
Finding Charlie isn’t a hard feat, easily finding her at the reception desk as a guest talks her ear off. Her face is tight as she nods along, and Alastor graces her with a reprieve as he slinks into his shadow and zips over to her. She jumps at first when he taps at her shoulder, but relaxes at the sight of him.
“So sorry to interrupt, but might I steal the princess for a moment?” He turns to the guest, who huffs.
‘My TV isn’t working.”
“Yes, well, we’ll send somebody to fix it right up in a moment.”
“I want somebody to fix it now. Can’t you do it? You’re a tech demon, aren’t you?” The guest waves a hand in Alastor’s general direction, and he feels his smile twitch.
“Not quite. Radios are much different from little picture boxes.”
“Well that should be good enough, shouldn’t it?”
Charlie gives a nervous laugh and tugs at Alastor’s arm. “I’ll be right on up in a moment, sir. I’m sure Alastor has something very important to run by me.”
“But I need it fixed-”
“In. A. Moment,” Charlie says, her smile wide yet strained.
She eyes the guest - who grumbles something under his breath before marching up the stairs - and sighs. “Thanks for saving me, he’s just been ranting about that TV for thirty minutes.”
“Some people simply just enjoy hearing themselves talk.” And Alastor should know, he was one of them. “But I did have a… ‘tech’ matter to discuss with you.”
“Oh!” Charlie looks up at him with wide eyes. “Yes, of course. Ask away.”
“May I see the hotel’s security footage from yesterday? Specifically say… afternoon to the evening?”
Her eyes widen at the request. “Oh. Sure, yes, absolutely. Here, let me…”
It takes her a minute or so of tapping on the reception keyboard, but she’s eventually able to find them.
The monitor screen is split into four sections, each a different part of the hotel. He sees himself a few times as Charlie speeds through the footage, his distorted figure sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the other sinners in the lobby.
His eyes scan what little he can see of the lobby as he watches Charlie throw the flyers into his hands. Searching for any sign of the antennae he had seen.
But there’s nothing.
Not even seconds before he inserted himself into that little group of guests.
Not when he’s at Husk’s bar.
There isn’t a hint of Vox in sight.
“Is there any chance you know of the state of our security system?” Alastor asks, leaning away from the monitor. “Any flaws or hiccups that you have been made aware of?”
Charlie frowns at that. “No, I don’t think so. Why? Is something wrong?” She gives a gasp, hands clasping together before her. “Do you think somebody broke in?”
“No, not at all.” The words leave Alastor’s mouth before he can stop it, and he can’t help the way his smile shrinks at that.
Somebody had broken in. Snuck into the hotel and slunk into Alastor’s room of all places. They had invaded their space, yet whenever Alastor tries to voice this he finds his words caughtcatch in his throat. They refuse to escape his lips.
Alastor’s grip on his staff tightens. “I simply wish to be cautious. You never know when… somebody might try to attack our systems.”
Charlie winces. “Right. I’ll have Baxter run a scan or… whatever it is he does. See if anybody’s tried hacking us.” She bites at her lip as she looks Alastor over. “You don’t think he’d try that so soon after the Might of Lilith, would he?”
Alastor hopes she doesn’t notice the way his ears turn back at the question. “It’s best to be cautious. You never know what that idiot will try next.”
Her eyes stay on Alastor, brows knitting together. “We haven’t really gotten a chance to talk about everything, have we?”
“We’ve spoken plenty.”
“But you just… handed yourself over to him.”
“And I had my reasons. Now.” Alastor twirls his staff before stepping back. “I fear I must pay a few more people a visit concerning this. Do update the others about remaining cautious, yes?”
He doesn’t give Charlie a chance to respond, slinking back into his shadows and barely paying attention as she gives a shaky farewell.
Alastor doesn’t get far into the second floor before he catches sight of him again. A hint of blue light dusting the wall beside him as Vox watches him emerge from his shadow.
“Have you cooled off yet?” Vox asks, antennae bounce atop his head as he cocks his head to the side. Alastor bristles at the sight, shoulders stiffening, and Vox gives a hum. “Guess not.”
His form flickers, enveloping itself in light, before he disappears into a bolt of lightning and rounds the corner.
Despite his lack of mouth, his voice still rings crystal clear in Alastor’s ears. “I’ll give you a little more time, Al.”
Alastor doesn’t think before bolting after him, grip on his staff tight as he rounds a corner once more, and…
“Alastor!” Niffty jumps at the sight of him. Her eye darts over him before she pulls out a needle, face firm. “What’s wrong? Is there danger? Somebody we need to stab?”
Alastor’s form falters at the sight of her, shoulders going slack as she stabs at the air.
“Niffty, did anyone come down here?” His eyes aren’t set on her as he asks this. Instead he looks around her, searching for any flash of electricity, any dull glow from down the hall, but there’s nothing. Not a hint of the man he had seen.
Her eye squints for a moment as she thinks, but ultimately shrugs. “Nope, don’t think so. Just me and the bugs.”
Alastor’s smile thins at that, eyes scanning over the hall once more before looking back down at Niffty.
“Do you have a moment?” She gives a nod, and Alastor bends over to place a hand on her shoulder. “Wonderful.”
There are no protests as Niffty is pulled into Alastor’s shadow, the two racing through the hotel before stepping out into Husk’s room.
Husk jumps at the sight of them, pupils thinning. “Holy shit! You can’t just appear in my room, Alastor.”
Neither pay Husk any mind, Niffty merely giggling as she sways in place. Her eye looks directly before her, yet doesn’t focus on anything.
“Can we do that again?” she asks with a giggle, but Alastor’s already turned to the bar.
Alastor places a hand on her head, steadying her as he meets Husk’s eyes. “We have matters we need to discuss.”
“Can we do that outside of my room?”
“It’ll be quick.”
Husk growls but complies, grabbing a bottle of whiskey from atop his dresser before plopping down onto the foot of his bed.
“Get it over with, then.”
Niffty follows Husk’s lead, jumping onto his bedsheets and plopping herself beside him. She looks up at Alastor with a smile, while all Husk gives is a grimace.
Alastor clears his throat. “I need to request the two of you to be more vigilant of who enters and leaves the hotel.”
Husk waits a moment, raising an eyebrow when Alastor doesn’t add on to his request. “That’s all? You barged into my room for that?”
“Is that hole in your wall why you’re asking us to keep an eye out?” Niffty asks. “Did you get into a fight?”
Husk back straightens at that. “There’s a hole in your wall?”
“Well, not anymore,” Alastor hisses. “I mended it this morning.”
“I noticed it last night but thought it was intentional,” Niffty says with a shrug. “I thought you just wanted a window.”
“Why the hell would he want a window?”
“To make it less humid? That bayou makes things hot in there.”
“You have a bayou in your room?” Husk turns back to Alastor.
“I don’t see how this is relevant.”
“How did you fit a bayou in there?”
Niffty taps at her chin. “Oh, it's like a subspace or something. It’s huge.”
“Enough talking about the bayou!” Alastor hisses, and the two clamp their mouths shut. “I just need you two to be vigilant. Stay aware of your surroundings. And don’t let anyone of interest in, no matter what Charlie says. Got it?”
Niffty’s face grows stern, a frown tugging at her lips as she gives a mock salute.
Husk on the other hand merely nods and presses the bottle he has been holding to his lips. “Yeah, whatever.”
“Oh, you’ve really got them on a tight leash, don’t you?” Alastor flinches, heading whipping around to find Vox watching him with a smile. “I’m impressed.”
“You-”
“Got bored.” Vox stretches in place, arms raising above his head as sparks fly between his antennae. “Wanted to come say ‘hi’.”
“‘Say ‘hi’’? You wanted-”
“Alastor?”
His head snaps back to Husk and Niffty, who have both gotten up from the bed. Husk looks worried, but Alastor doubts that it is in any way directed towards himself.
Niffty’s eye is set on Vox, yet her gaze is blank. Her eyes once again unfocused on anything.
Her voice is quiet as she speaks, eye slowly dragging back over to Alastor.
“Who are you talking to?”
Vox snickers beside Alastor, but he barely notices. Although he can’t help but focus on Vox as he steps away from him and situates himself beside Niffty and Husk, leaning into their spaces and looking them over. “You got some great souls here, Al. Almost makes me jealous.” He looks down at Niffty and kneels down to her level. “This one even cares about you.”
“What?” Alastor’s voice is low, the hum of his filter dying in his throat.
Vox places his hand atop Niffty’s shoulders, but she doesn’t react. Doesn’t even blink.
“Alastor?” His eyes shoot back up to meet Husk’s, and for the second time in two days he sees genuine worry. Uncertainty clouding his gaze as he stares into Alastor’ eyes. “What’s going on?”
He looks to Vox before straightening his back, righting himself in an instant. He adjusts his lapels, smoothing the fabric of his suit before adjusting his grip on his staff.
“Nothing at all, good man! My shadow is merely causing a ruckus is all.” He can see his shadow place a hand to his chest, shocked at the accusation, before crossing his arms and huffing. “You know how he is.”
Vox gives a snort of laughter. “Nice save.” His voice is teasing, but not cruel.
And it sends a wave of anger through Alastor.
Husk’s ears press back as his eyes turn to Alastor’s shadow. “Right, well we’ll… keep our eyes open.”
“Wonderful!” Alastor’s smile widens, yet it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You have my gratitude. Now, I must…” His eyes flick to Vox once more, who watches him, hands still tight around Niffty’s shoulders. “I must return to work.”
His eyes never leave Vox’s, gazes locked on one another as he takes a step back. He can feel his shadow at his feet, but he can feel resistance. A refusal, not letting him enter. Whether that was his own doing or his shadow’s pettiness he didn’t know, but he can’t bring himself to care.
Alastor can’t bring himself to look to his shadow. He can’t bring himself to look away from Vox.
“You’re still ready for my show tonight, right?” Niffty asks, and Alastor can barely bring himself to nod.
“Right. Yes of course,” he says, backing up. It’s only once Vox smiles and zaps away that Alastor can bring himself to turn around and watch where he’s going. He fumbles for the door handle, breathing hitching as it opens. “I’ll be there.”
He doesn’t wait for a response before he closes the door, mind racing as he searches around for Vox. Eyes scanning the hall for any sign of blue.
“I think we should talk.”
Alastor does his best not to react. He does his best not to look at Vox who appears at his left.
“In private,” is all Alastor responds with before marching to his room.
Vox walks at his side, Alastor can hear his even footsteps against the carpets below, but he still can’t feel him. Can’t feel his frequencies.
And while he could see him, nobody else could. Not the cameras. Not the sinners he passes in the hotel’s halls. Not Husk. And certainly not Niffty.
“I’ve gone insane,” is all Alastor can say when he enters his radio tower. He didn’t know why he ended up here specifically. Maybe his room was too personal. Too vulnerable to let Vox back in.
“Oh, don’t be too hard on yourself, Al.” Vox steps into view, eyes squinting as he smiles. “We’re in Hell, it’s bound to happen to everyone eventually.”
Alastor snarls at that, but he doesn’t lash out this time. Doesn’t let his shadows shoot out and his nothing. Instead he walks deeper into his tower, Vox - or whatever he is - stepping out of his way.
“Oh, come on. Just trying to lighten the mood!” Vox zaps over to him as Alastor places his staff by his side table. “You seem stressed.”
“I couldn’t imagine why,” Alastor grumbles under his breath. He waves a hand, and a bottle of whiskey materializes within his grasp, a glass appearing on the table soon after.
“Aw, nothing for me?” Vox asks as Alastor raises the glass to his lips, whiskey burning down his throat. “Not very hospitable of you.”
A screech sounds from Alastor’s microphone before he can stop it, eyes narrowing at Vox who raises his hands. “Kidding, kidding. I have myself covered.”
Alastor rolls his eyes and looks back down at his now empty glass. His eyes catch the mirror before him as he pours himself more, ear flicking as he catches sight of Vox’s reflection. More specifically a glass in his own hands.
Vox meets his eye in the reflection and smiles at Alastor, raising his glass. “Cheers.”
“What exactly are you?” Alastor asks, watching Vox, both his reflection in the tower’s window and his actual figure. Looking for any discrepancy.
“What do you want me to be?” Alastor doesn’t flinch this time when Vox appears on his other side, practically whispering in his ear.
“I want you to be gone.”
“Do you, though?”
Vox takes a sip of his drink when Alastor doesn’t reply, his smile stretching past the rim of his glass. The sip is long and stupidly loud, the sound of liquid being sucked into Vox’s mouth grating against Alastor’ ears.
“Listen, Al, I’m not here to fight,” Vox says, and Alastor can’t help but scoff. “I just want to talk. Catch up.”
“You’re not real, what is there to talk about?”
Vox’s face doesn’t falter, but his tone drops, lowering as he rests his weight on the table and leans towards Alastor. “Whatever you’d like. Jazz, your show, your latest kill… Anything, really.” His smile softens, and Alastor can’t tell if the buzzing in the back of his mind is from the whiskey or something else. “I just want to go back to how it was.”
“You destroyed that chance when you proposed that ridiculous offer.”
“It won’t be perfect, but we could still try?” Alastor doesn’t notice Vox’s hand sliding over to him until it’s resting on his shoulder. His first instinct is to shrug it off, to back away and lash out, but something keeps him rooted in place. Something keeps his eyes fixed onto Vox as his grip tightens.
The buzzing grows louder.
“Humour me.”
Alastor’s mouth feels dry, but he manages to force out the reply. It feels rough against his throat and heavy on his tongue, but it rests comfortably in the air. The word eases Vox, and Alastor can feel his shoulders going slack with him.
“Alright.”
He doesn’t know when the two sit at the chairs to Alastor’s control panel, all he remembers is looking down at his suddenly full glass, grip loose as his cushions warp under his weight.
He doesn’t miss how they don’t shift under Vox’s.
But he doesn’t know if he can bring himself to care.
“Your room seems nice.” Vox says, looking around the room. “Bayou was a nice touch, but aren’t you worried about tracking mud inside?”
“My magic cleans it if I do.”
Vox hums to himself. “How deep does it go?”
“As far as I want it too.”
“You got anything set up in there?”
“Why are you so interested in it?” Alastor turns his head to Vox, but there's no bite to his question. No threat.
“Am I not allowed to be curious?”
“You’ve never cared about the bayou before.”
“Maybe I was too scared to ask.”
“But you aren’t anymore?” Alastor can’t help the laugh that is pulled from him. “After everything?”
“Life changes people.”
Alastor gives a hum, sipping at his drink.
“Is that old bar still running?”
“You know it is.”
“Doesn’t hurt to check.” Vox taps at his glass, claws clinking against it. “It’d be nice to go back sometime.”
“Don’t particularly care to drink alone in public at the moment.”
“You wouldn’t be alone. I’d be there.”
Alastor scoffs. “You aren’t real. I barely understand why I’m indulging you to begin with.”
“Because you care?”
Alastor’s ears press back, his lips thinning into a snarl. “You’re deluded.”
“But you used to.” Vox shifts his head, leaning to the side to enter Alastor’s line of sight. His screen is bright, captivating Alastor. “And you knew that I knew that.”
“You didn’t know anything.”
“Do you miss it?” Vox leans closer, his lips tugging down but not in a frown. Vox is composed, but his voice is thick with his filter. “Do you miss me?”
Alastor’s grip on his glass tightens, and he tries not to focus on how he feels it crack. He pushes himself up, standing, but he can’t bring himself to move his legs. They’re rooted in place, and he takes this as an opportunity to down the rest of his drink. “I believe we’re done here, Vincent.”
He can see Vincent - because this is not Vox. This thing isn’t the man he had fought a mere week before - following in his lead from the corner of his eye, screen dulling. “You can’t just walk away, Al.”
The buzzing grows louder again, and Alastor feels like he’s walking through molasses as he finally forces his legs to move. His movements are slow, sluggish, and exhausting, but he forces himself through it. He forces himself to magic away his glass and head to the trapdoor of his tower.
The more he moves the looser he feels, the buzzing dulling, but he can still feel Vincent watching. He can feel his fake eyes boring into his very soul.
“Alastor.”
He risks a look back to Vincent, back at his blank face as Alastor raises a hand back to the door’s handle.
Vincent’s screen has dulled, the only thing glowing being his big red eyes. Red eyes that make Alastor’s movement stall for a moment.
“Find him.”
And Vincent’s gone within a blink of an eye.
But the buzzing stays.
It’s louder than before, taking up every thought as Alastor navigates through the hotel once more, rattling his skull.
He pays no mind to guests as he passes them, not caring for their glances or comments.
Alastor doesn’t realize he’s walked over to the hotel doors until he feels a tug on his suit, eyes flicking down to find Baxter. He takes a step back from Alastor, clears his throat, and adjusts his glasses.
“I do hope you don’t plan on being out for long?” He eyes Alastor, adjusting the laptop in his hands. “I’d hate for you to miss Niffty’s show tonight.”
“I’ve already confirmed my presence,” Alastor snaps.
“Yes, well it doesn’t hurt to double check.” Baxter opens his laptop, tapping at its keyboard. “Charlie also mentioned you wanted me to fix up the security?”
“I did ask her to do that, didn’t I…”
“If we were looking to update security might I suggest implementing some… new technology throughout the hotel? Just to ensure our collective safety? It’ll be incredibly beneficial.”
“Do what you like,” Alastor looks back to the lobby doors.
“So I’m receiving your green light to modify the hotel?”
“Yes, whatever you want,” hisses Alastor, shadows climbing up his body.
He barely sees the way Baxter’s smile sharpens before he disappears, slipping through the doors and zipping down into the city.
Alastor doesn’t have a distinct destination in mind, he barely even understands why he left to begin with, but he supposes some fresh air would do him some good. Or as close to fresh as he can get in Hell.
Few notice as he passes by, but he doesn’t stick around to see if they flinch back at the sight of his silhouette racing across the cracked concrete street.
For the most part it works. He’s able to distract himself with the rush of the world around him. Hidden from sight yet watching everyone else. Watching arguments and stabbings, meals shared and food wasted. He almost forgets why he left. Why he’s out there to begin with.
But of course, a reminder comes at him in full force not even an hour later.
“Trust us with your entertainment.”
Alastor hears him before he sees him. His voice ringing loud and clear in Alastor’s ears.
Alastor steps out of his shadow without thinking, eyes searching around for the source. But he doesn’t find him. Instead, Alastor finds himself before a wall of televisions. Screens each playing different scenes within the windowsill, faces silently laughing at a joke being told offscreen or news reports detailing the most recent fight that left a nearby district in shambles. But he can’t find the one face that’s always plastered around Hell. The one face built for a screen.
“And will our company be holding onto the past? This little slogan?”
Instead he finds one showcasing Valentino, lounging in a chair as he blows a puff of smoke in Katie Killjoy’s face, who doesn’t even bat an eye at the action. He can see a silhouette in the corner of the screen, lean with a rectangular head, but his face is obscured. Hidden.
Valentino makes a face, almost wincing as he mulls over whatever Katie may have asked. “Eh, yeah no. All that ‘trust us’ marketing is old news. We don’t need it. We’re going for something newer. Better. Without Vox.”
He sees Vincent flicker into view beside him, but Alastor’s already moving before he can say anything.
He shifts from street to street, searching through advertisement after advertisement both paper and screen. The reds around him begin to dwindle away the further he gets from the hotel, fading into different colors and shades.
Pinks and purples begin to overtake his vision as he rushes through the Pride Ring, eyeing each and every advert he can find whether they be paper or screen. Alastor finds pictures of potions and smoke, smear campaigns and eroticas, but never anything that grabs his attention. Never anything that draws him in.
Vox’s presence has slowly yet surely been removed from the Entertainment District, blues still lingering in the background as pinks and purples begin to take over.
“You know what you need to do.”
Alastor hears Vincent’s voice in his ear, urging him forward, but he doesn’t leave his shadow. He doesn’t let himself push forward.
“Find him.”
But he falters when clawed hands rest on his shoulders. When a weight rests on his back.
“You miss him, don’t you? Miss us? Just go to him. Be with him. Find him.”
And he does.
Vee Tower’s security leaves much to be desired.
Alastor’s shadow slips past their front desk with ease, nobody batting an eye as he zips through the building. He hadn’t even stuck to the shadows, his silhouette practically flying throughout the building in sight of every camera. In sight of every employee. But nobody pays him any mind.
It’s quiet once he makes it into Vox’s room, the lights dim as his eyes search around for any sign of life. For any sort of figure rambling playing with holographic screens and barking orders at interns, but he doesn’t find that.
Instead he finds a lone tablet laying on Vox’s bed, screen off as it rests on one of his pillows. Alastor slips out of his shadow to approach, the buzzing dying down at the sight.
“There I am,” Vincent whispers, but his voice sounds distant. The tin in his voice growing heavy and laying thick over his words.
Vox’s screen doesn’t react to Vincent’s voice, nobody does, but he does react to Alastor.
Vox is already looking Alastor’s way by the time his screen flicks on, eyes tired and lips set in a soft frown.
But Alastor can’t help the way he feels himself freeze as he speaks. He can’t help the way his back straightens and his ears perk up, even with Vox’s dreary tone.
“Did you come to gloat?”
Vox’s voice fills Alastor’s head. It’s clear and loud and perfectly eases the buzzing in his head.
“Oh, nothing of the sort, pal,” Alastor’s reply is instant and spoken without much thought. “Just thought I’d pay you a visit. See how you’re holding up after such an… interesting loss.”
Vox huffs at that, eyes flicking away and Alastor longs for them to turn back to him. To have those eyes lock with his once more.
Vox lets out a yelp as he tries, sitting down on his bed and leaning over his screen. His antennae jerk up, eyes widening and red nearly overtaking the blue pinpricks of his irises.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Just stay still,” Alastor’s reply is instant once more, tone almost robotic as he grips at the edges of Vox’s screen.
Vox’s eyes are… calming. They put him at ease, even as they squint up at him.
He can see Vox’s antennae sparking just out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t pay it much mind. It isn’t important.
This is important.
Vox is important.
“Alastor?”
Alastor hums, his thumb rubbing against the sides of Vox’s screen
Alastor can feel Vincent lingering nearby, sitting beside him and resting his screen on Alastor’s shoulders, but the touch is barely there. It hardly registers. Not with Vox here. But Vincent doesn’t seem to mind.
He coos at him, voice too distant to properly make out, but calming nonetheless. Alastor can feel his eyes droop at the sound. They grow heavy as he loses himself in the red.
But then Vox’s frequency brushes against his own.
It’s unintentional, barely a touch, but it shocks Alastor out of whatever stupor he had found himself in.
Alastor’s head snaps up at the feeling, chasing the signal with his own before latching onto it. Feeling it, deciphering what it entailed.
It was a message, short and urgent. Alastor can’t tell who it is meant for but he can certainly guess. He can put the pieces together.
‘Come up to my room now.’
Alastor can tell when Vox realizes he’s been caught. His teeth grit together as his eyes widen, and Alastor almost finds himself lost in his gaze once more. He almost dives back in.
But he squeezes his eyes shut and looks away, pushing himself off the bed and grasping at his hair. He knows Vox is watching, he can feel those eyes burning into his back and following his movement.
“Alastor, what is going on?”
“Nothing,” Alastor means for his tone to be sharp. He means for them to cut through Vox as he whips back around to face him, but it doesn’t. It’s soft, dull, and leaves Vox reeling from pain.
Alastor can feel the frequency in the air shift once more, a reply to Vox that he quickly intercepts. A simple reply from Valentino.
“I’ll only come up if that’s an offer cariño.”
Alastor can feel Vox reply before he can even wince at the winking faces that followed the message, but he’s too slow to intercept. To erase any trace of his visit.
“We need to go,” he hears Vincent say, his voice clearer but still tinny. Distant in Vox’s presence.
“I can see that,” Alastor mutters, and he hates the way his throat tightens when Vox’s face tightens at his words.
He eyes the door as he backs up, almost expecting Valentino to come barging in within moments of Vox’s reply. Alastor steps into his shadow, ready to leave. To never speak of this again.
But the shift is instant.
The buzzing returns the moment he slips away, but it isn’t a gradual build. The buzz returns in full force, but this time it feels more like a screech of static. It fills his ears, tearing through his skull. Alastor has to hold back a bleat as he practically curls in on himself, claws digging into his skull as he tries to silence the noise.
The weight is back on his back, wires wrapping around Alastor as sharper claws gripping onto his shoulders.
“I said we need to go, Alastor.”
We.
All of them.
The screeching dies away when Alastor steps back out into Vox’s room, dies away when he’s back with Vox, and the other man’s screen jumps up at the sight of him. He launches himself upright, antennae sparking in surprise. Vox’s eyes dart to his door, and the silence gives him a chance to hear talking outside. Muffled behind his thick door but drawing closer.
“What are you-”
Alastor snatches him before he can finish his question, pulling Vox close to his chest before sinking back down into his shadow.
There’s no screech this time save for Vox’s own. No noise tearing through his skull.
It’s silent, and he allows himself to sit with it for a moment. Vox’s voice is muffled against his suit, panicked as he practically vibrates in Alastor’s grasp. He lets himself float in his shadows for a moment, pressing Vox closer and closer to his chest.
It's only once he hears the doors to Vox’s room open that he slips them away, darting through Valentino’s feet as he looks around Vox’s room.
Alastor can feel Vox still in his arms, voice dulling down to a small muffled whisper, but it still doesn’t make it to his ears. He can’t hear Vox as he speeds through the Pride Ring once more.
But what he sees before him in the shadows is Vincent, silhouette dull yet present. He watches Alastor, screen glowing a faint blue as his eyes meet Alastor’s own. They don’t have quite the same pull as Vox’s, they don’t call to Alastor, but there’s still an allure to them.
There’s something beautiful about the blue slits laying within the red pools of Vincent’s sclera, still just as captivating as they are in the present.
And Alastor wouldn’t mind staying lost in them for a little longer.