Chapter Text
It was 8:36 in the morning, the bright rays of heaven above streamed through the windows, hell's crows screeched their anguished caws, and Vox was about ready to give up for the day.
His 'exciting' morning had involved some half-brained employee, who was meant to be helping Val's studio set-up for the day (because in no realm would Val ever get up that early), messing up the cable management and starting yet another fire. Except this time, the fire was in a back area and everyone in the building only knew of it once smoke had built up everywhere else.
Of course, the cherry on top was that it fell to Vox to handle it. Apparently, neither other Vee was making an appearance for this issue so Vox had spent the last hour and a half ordering others around with an iron fist to get both the fire and the studio under any semblance of control.
It had been two months now since since his heaven take-over plan had derailed into an unplanned attempt at blowing up the pentagram. Valentino and Velvette had done a fair job at keeping Voxtek (name change pending) and its various branches above water, as much as they could, while Vox hid away from the public eye like a kicked puppy. Though Vox had no plans to show his face in public anytime again soon, Velvette had offered that he could still very much be of use in the Vee tower behind the scenes and could do with something to keep his mind occupied, you know, post-psychotic break and all. Plus, she managed to convince Valentino that, despite receiving punishments such as regular silent treatments from the moth, Vox could at least be given back his body privileges following the whole public head removal incident.
His original body they could find nowhere, despite scouring Vox's pentagram-wide camera footage, suggesting some creep had yoinked the damn thing. Moreover, all cameras that might have been able to look upon the courtyard harbouring the Might of Lilith had been taken out during Vox's lazer-fuelled frenzy, so they had no footage to suggest who might've had the nerve to take it.
So now Vox found his head uncomfortably wired to some strange, mannequin-like mechanical body, courtesy of Valentino of course (Vox did not want to know what this body had been used for previously) and thankfully with a masculine shape. It felt unsteady and its movements were sometimes delayed, but he could adjust to it quickly enough for him to get to work. Since being removed from his own CEO seat, Velvette had determined that the moping TV would probably be best placed taking a hand in administration and the supervision of various departments. However, Vox often also found himself having to essentially act as a one-man 'clean-up' crew, always having to sort out every problem and fix every mess left behind when one of the other Vees couldn't be bothered to get involved. And this is what he'd found himself doing today.
Now, Vox sat at his desk with a well-deserved black coffee in one hand and his other hand gently massaging the still-sore join between his head and neck. A series of informative holographic screens were suspended haphazardly in the air in front of him. He swatted away a screen on his far right showing an extensive back-and-forth conversation with one of the set managers, mentally replying to several SOS messages with a short and concise "Figure it out".
He decided that he had very little patience for much more today, so he mentally put together a written list of his responsibilities to dump on his ever-loyal assistant and looked over to consider the invitation to the Vees from Carmilla he had been sent at 7 o'clock sharp this morning. It regarded the monthly overlord meeting to take place at 10.
"Perfect," he said aloud, rolling his eyes and resting a corner of his screen in his hand.
In the past, Vox was almost always the one to attend these meetings, but there was no way he would dare show his face at any one of them any time soon. As much as he hated to admit it, he really wasn't in the right state, mentally or reputation-wise, to be put in a situation as such. Especially if a certain… person… was there. He didn't even want to think about that. This all meant that Val and Vel were both taking turns with that mantle now. Valentino had attended the first overlord meeting following what had happened two months ago, steely and giving nothing but sass to the other overlords. Velvette then attended last month's meeting, paying very little attention as usual for her, except for the occasional quip. As much as Vox had never particularly enjoyed overlord meetings when he'd been in attendance, he had found himself subtly following his fellow Vees around after each meeting, attempting to suss out any interesting details that they may have overheard. Namely, if he himself had been mentioned (only to be waved away by Velvette, or downright ignored by Valentino).
There was still plenty of time before this meeting came, so Vox settled into his chair in the office that was still thankfully his and prepared to contact his colleagues.
Val apparently intended to surprise Vox today by being the first to arrive in his office for once. Neither other Vee was ever on time when Vox decided to call a meeting but Velvette would always arrive first; Valentino on the other hand could arrive anywhere from a few minutes late to half an hour, that is if he even attends at all. But now he was here, face shoved way too close to his phone screen and muttering some kind of Spanglish under his breath.
"So! Uh.. How's it going getting started with the filming this morning?" An attempt to start this conversation well.
It was to no avail. The muttering continued.
"Val?"
"What? Oh. Shit, I guess," was Valentino's response. "We haven't even started yet. It's been a crazy morning. Some slut at that café out the front got my order wrong, she gave me like, some weird froth thing with way too much coffee that wasn't even mixed in, like, how hard is it to make a caramel frappe with just some added raspberry syrup? Oh, and then apparently there was this fire this morning. Some guy got burnt up and decided to touch and set fire to a bunch of the writers' things they'd put together so I had to spend all morning getting them to re-write loads of shit. Honestly, also, how long does it even take to get a fire under control? It's not like it was burning down the whole building. Really, some of these people just can't be left to do anything by themselves."
"Yep." Vox gritted out. Thankfully, Valentino had not looked up once during this tirade to see that. "…Well, I'm sure it'll get sorted out one way or another, with or without your 'help'." He mumbled quietly with a jab of sarcasm.
"Huh?" Val barely looked up from his screen.
"Oh, nothing, nothing. Don't worr-"
A raucous disturbance at the door to his office made Vox flinch out of his words and sharply turn to the door. Velvette stormed through, though only after she had managed to create a sound rivalling a sonic boom via slamming the door. Valentino languidly turned to look back over his shoulder.
"Oh hey babygirl~ You have a good morning?"
"Damnit Vox, this'd better be good. I have at least five journal critics coming in to preview the new lineup this morning before tomorrow's show. At least two of them are—oh, Val, morning babes—representing that new Pride's Serving Bitches magazine, which, by the way, it's vitally important that I get first dibs on the front cover and spotlight pages." Velvette spoke rapid-fire while Vox leaned his weight onto his arms on the desk. "So I need whatever this sodding get-together is to be over and done with quick before they start arriving."
Vox waited for Velvette to slam down into a seat before closing his eyes and taking a breath. "Yeah, yeah, it's nothing complicated, just another… overlord meet. Carmine says they have it planned for 10 this morning, 'sharp'. Probably a bunch of random, pointless topics but the invite mentioned something about rioting in certain areas. So, which one of you wants it?"
"Well, it's not gonna be me," Velvette responded quickly and Vox noticed her phone had seemingly materialised in her hand. "I've already told you, I'm busy, needed elsewhere. If all doesn't go well with these journalists, we could end up with a line like the one a couple months ago. I've never had such a crap following for a line, no thanks to you Vee and your whole incident, you made us look like a joke for a good while."
Vox gave her his best warning look but then wilted. "Alright…fair enough. Well, then it's your game, Val. Are you going to respond to the invite or should I?"
"Oh. Maldita sea," Valentino pulled away from his phone to address Velvette. "I need to get this filming started today, we've been putting it off for too long and I already have everything set up. Are you sure you can't just pass the journalists off to your assistant or something?"
"No way. Melissa doesn't exactly have natural public-speaking skills, bless her heart, and plus, I did that the last couple times and now they're specifically requesting to speak to yours truly. It's down to one of you two, sorry boys," Velvette said with a very unapologetic look and then apparently noticed a notification on her phone far more interesting than the conversation at hand.
Vox and Valentino both looked at each other.
"Well-uh…Val? Surely you can just put it off for another day. Or…" Vox trailed off. "Or maybe you go to the meeting and I'll just manage the film shooting for this morning, huh?"
"Like shit I'm having you involved in the filming without me there. No offence, baby, but your taste in my kind of film is fucking non-existant," Valentino quipped back. "Besides, Velvette's using the studio tomorrow for her line's show, and she'll probably be using it for the next couple of days afterwards. I need to get this morning shoot done now. Just go to the meeting yourself, I doubt they'd care. Just keep to yourself and give them short answers if they ask you anything. They'll barely realise you're there, that's what I do."
Vox wouldn't let go of that first comment, and also sought to redirect this conversation from where he saw it going. "What? I've not only overseen the vast majority of shows and films we've made but I've also helped direct most of them too, Val. I can at least just get the filming started for you to pick up later."
Velvette stirred and lit up, interrupting the conversation. "Ohhhh. This could be perfect, actually," she turned to address Valentino. "He's been moping around in this building for plenty of time already, plus the non-stop bothering us about what's been going on in the meetings; I say it'd be a good idea to let Vox have this one, Val, get him out of our hair for a minute and have him interacting with the world a bit again. It's not like the meeting's gonna be hours and hours long. The bitch, Carmine, barely has any new shit to talk about nowadays."
"Hmm, I guess. As long as he wears something decent to it that's not… that," Valentino gestured towards where Vox stood in his lounge pants.
"Guys, I'm right here."
"Sure," she cackled, "unless flat face here thinks any different."
Both Valentino and Velvette looked over at Vox expectantly.
"Ugh… I'm really not- I don't… I just don't think it's the best idea for me to be going out right now!" he said, putting on a failing facade of confidence.
"Oh, please. Grow a pair, Vox. It's been more than 2 months, they've probably forgotten the whole thing by now," Velvette stood up still with her eyes on her phone. "Right, I need to set off, these journalists are probably arriving now. See you later, alligators. Good luck."
"Wait. We're not finished here!"
But Velvette was quick and Vox watched the door slam again.
He turned to lock eyes with Valentino, who seemed to be readying himself to get up as well. He tried his luck once more with a charming grin, but felt it slipping into a look of desperation, "Val, please?"
"That's not gonna work on me," he smoothed down a wing with one hand and then took a moment to fluff up the fur around his neck. Vox hadn't been given permission to face-plant it in more than two months. "Good luck, Voxxy~."
Vox's suit felt all ways wrong on the new body. It perfectly reflected how out-of-place he was feeling, standing right in front of the elevators on the South side of Carmine's main building. At least, by using the South-side elevators, he was more likely to avoid anyone he didn't wish to run into. Not that it would make any difference once he actually entered the building. Right. Entering the building. That's what he's supposed to be doing right now. 10 minutes early to every meeting as he always would. Fuck.
Vox supposed two months of hiding away in the V Tower hadn't exactly been the healthiest thing to do. Perhaps at first it was. It let him sit by and breathe for a moment without his CEO responsibilities weighing on his shoulders. He had also had more time than he'd ever known to spend with Shock.wav, who had immensely helped keep Vox sane when he was socially isolating himself. However, 'taking time to recover' had eventually turned into avoidance, and Vox had grown almost fearful of leaving the building. No, I'm not scared, I'm just… wary, he told himself. He supposed he had to admit that it did mean something to him that the other Vees cared to at least try and get him up and running again, even if their method involved forcing him. But then again, fuck them for forcing him to do this.
He forced a determined yet strained smile on his screen and stepped into the elevator.
For the most part, he could only see his reflection in the glass elevator doors, not helped by his bright screen. This meant he couldn't see anything outside of the elevator on the way up and on arrival at the main floor. He stood impatiently with his arms crossed and claws dug into the crease of his elbow as the elevator door opened, only for his heart to catch in his throat at the sight before him.
The elevator door across the lobby opened, revealing a figure wearing a whole lot of red.
Shit. Oh no. Vox mentally slapped himself for being so caught up in the anxiety of coming here, he hadn't even noticed the static only he could detect.
Alastor saw him as well and narrowed his eyes at Vox, pulling his lips apart to bare his teeth in a growing smile.
Vox could think of no other idea but to return the look. Probably a stupid idea.
The stare between them was interrupted by the bright, blue flame of Maestro's head as he walked past. Zeezi followed and needed very few steps to catch up to him. The elevator across from Vox was now empty. Alastor was nowhere to be seen.
Alright. He could deal with this. He should have foresaw that he would be seeing him here, or anywhere for that matter since his unsuccessfullness in trying to kill him two months ago (and he'd gotten this close to succeeding. Damn). Vox tried to keep Valentino's advice in his thoughts: keep to yourself and give them short answers, they'll barely realise you're there. Fine.
He smoothly made towards the meeting room doors but heard the screech of tuning to a signal behind him.
"Wow-ee. I thought you might've up and died or something! I must say, I'm a little disappointed that appears not to be the case."
Vox turned around with a threatening slowness. Why the fuck is he speaking to me?
The Radio Demon stood only a few feet from Vox and offered only a bored expression in response to Vox's disbelieving one. He could see Rosie further down the hall busily chatting away to Prick while Hatchet stood by listening. That was most likely the direction Alastor had snuck in from.
Vox noticed that he had just been silently standing there staring and mentally restled himself into a more 'presentable' state, hoping that he was giving off an air of something even resembling confidence.
"Ah, yeah. Well. As you can so clearly see, I'm very much still alive and doing fantastic," he said, enunciating that last word sharply and beginning to turn around. "So, if you'll excuse me, I have what I'm sure is an 'important' meeting to attend to."
Alastor tilted his head and squinted his eyes, moving his mouth to speak before Rosie came up behind him after apparently finishing her talk with the other two overlords.
"Well, well! Is that Vox I see? This might'a been the longest I haven't seen ya! Hope you've been keepin' well in your absence." Rosie was an overlord Vox had never particularly clicked with, or ever really spoken with much. As much as she spoke with such friendly language, he suspected it was moreso out of politeness rather than true friendliness, something he could respect in a way: a cool and strategic interior hidden behind a loving mask for the greater audience, something he could respect had she not been in such close camaraderie with Alastor. "Well, anyone who knows me knows I'd love to stop and chat, but I suppose we'd best get straight to this meeting, shall we?" And she wordlessly ushered them in.
As per Velvette's warning, Carmine really did have no interesting news for them to discuss, the biggest surprise here was the fact that, miraculously, no one had fallen asleep. The topic of the day was some conflict getting out of hand in one of the inter-districts, which Vox (mentally face-palming) believed could just very easily be explained away by the fact that this conflict was partially taking place… in the Doomsday District, the capital of conflict. As usual, a few of the overlords complained about this being a meeting in the first place, which, as usual, Carmine and Zestial tag-teamed to explain how 'vital' these monthly meetings are 'regardless of the topic', in the interest of keeping 'cooperative relations' between the sovereign overlords. Truly eye-rolling stuff.
Strangely enough, the other overlords actually did seem to ignore him for the most part, apart from a perfunctory 'welcome back' from Carmine. Even the red asshole and Rosie across the table seemed content to have their minds melted out by the meeting rather than take even a glimpse at him. Despite this, Vox still felt on edge and found himself subconsciously taking frequent sips from the mildly alcoholic liquid provided in front of him (with thanks to Zizi for complaining about the lack of interesting refreshments at these meetings). Vox was soon an unknown number of refills in, signalling he'd definitely had enough.
The meeting did actually come to an end and Vox watched with hooded eyes as Alastor stood up from his chair, stretched out his arms in front of him and then made his leave, without even sparing the former a glance. Rosie paused for just a moment at the open door for Alastor, where the both exchanged a few words Vox could not catch, and they both turned to depart. Vox noted the cannibal overlord taking a moment to glance back at the room before she left, though what exactly she was looking at, Vox couldn't tell, due to the whole pupil-less eyes situation. His unsteady head didn't allow him to think on it.
He looked down at the glass in front of him which seemed to be swaying slightly. He didn't how much time passed, maybe a few minutes, before he looked up, locking eyes with one of Carmine's kids, whatever the hell her name is, and got the visual message of 'It's time for you to leave'.
Very carefully he got up, lest he stumble drunkenly in front of Zestial and the Carmines, and he bared his teeth at them in the most shark-like grin he could muster before leaving the room.
His desperacy to leave the meeting room, however, did not carry over into leaving the building as a whole. He found himself losing his steam before he could even consider taking one of the elevators down to the street level. He knew he was bothered by something.
What the hell am I even doing?
Just a month or so ago, he'd been climbing up the stairs of his delusion to Godhood, becoming the strongest sinner in hell in the process, and now look at him: Vox, House Husband of the Vees! Pathetic. A word used by a someone he'd once admired and had always cut deep but it now seemed more fitting than ever. How could he just saunter back into the Vee tower now? To be seen and looked down upon by the two people he thought might have actually admired him… once.
Vox's inebriated state meant that he could no longer just shake off any of these thoughts; his mind swirled in them. He found himself walking into the Carmine lobby's restroom rather than leaving, gripping the sink to steady himself and then giving the room a drunkenly half-hearted scan for anyone who might be watching.
Pulling out his phone from a pocket inside his suit jacket, he lent into the sink over his elbows. His screen was far too close to that of his phone, fumbling to unlock it and then staring aimlessly at his home screen, which featured a month-or-so old photo of Shok.wav nuzzling against his tank window where Vox's overjoyed face was pictured half out of frame.
"Ugh… I guess at least you'll be happy to see me when I go back," he muttered. Shok.wav was a good boy. Not only did Vox feel no shame at all in baby-talking at the shark, he would also often find himself in front of his tank talking Shok.wav's ears off (if you had any external ones that could fall off), venting out his frustrations and confiding even some of his sincerest worries. He'd been doing that a lot in these last couple of months.
He looked into the shark's large eye and took a shaky breath, "Am I the problem? No. No, I'm not. Shit. Am I? Ugh…" he lifted his hand up to grasp onto the top rim of his head and his thoughts start to slip to an older time, the roots of so much. "Fuck you, Alazztor… the fuck did I do for you to do all of that. Laughing? Could've said just 'no' but, ohhhh no, that doesn't hurt enough, does it? Shit. What if it was me? Did I say something weird? Do I just remember it wrong? Fuck…"
Vox stood braced against the sink for a few passing moments, and looked up past his arm to look searchingly at Shock.wav's face. "I wish… I wish I could speak to him again…back then… see if I said something wrong… I could change it…"
An eyeless gaze watching silently from the door slid away into the lobby.