Chapter Text
Nothing was indisposable in this world. Everything would come to an end, it was just a matter of time.
Nothing bad would remain, and nothing good would stick around for long. It would all be gone, it was just a matter of when.
Vox grumbled softly under his breath, poking at his scrambled eggs with his fork. They jiggled on the plate in an undignified manner.
Nothing bad would remain, my ass.
His assistant, Ethan, had brought the eggs, and though the source was questionable, they smelt like heaven. Buttery heaven, if Vox wasn't so neauseated as to enjoy the fucking eggs.
It's been a full week of office time, signing contracts after contracts. He fired a grand total of two hundred VoxTek employees last month for being incompetent, because no one could afford incompetence at this time, not when the Extermination was just around the corner.
"Ethan," Vox said, his voice a low growl. His assistant reappeared at his side in less than a minute.
"Yes, sir?" He said, eyes shining with eagerness, fear and apprehension. It must suck to be my assistant, Vox thought to himself. Too bad Ethan's a fucking masochist and hasn't run away yet.
Vox huffed, the sound petty even to his own ears. Petty and petulant, like a little child about to thrown a fully-fledged tantrum in the grocery aisle. "What the fuck is this?"
Ethan eyed the eggs as if scanning it for any sign of imperfections like burns of eggshells. There were, of course, none. "Your breakfast," he replied after a while, "sir."
"I know that," Vox snapped, lifting his head from where the bottom of his screen was resting on the desk. "Is it poisioned or something?"
"Why would it be…?" Ethan's head tipped to the side questioningly. "Do you want me to take it away?"
Maybe. "No." Ethan's confused expression only intensified. "What's on my schedule today?"
Satisfied at the new task he was given, Ethan disappeared for a moment before he scrambled back with his clipboard and Vox's whole calendar. It was packed, so full there was barely space to write anything, even after taking Ethan's tiny handwriting.
Fuck my fucking life. The letters swan before Vox's eyes, rearranging themselves and wouldn't behave no matter how many times he blinked. Even slamming his wrist into his casing to clear his mind didn't work, not today.
"Well?" Vox demanded, shoving the clipboard back towards Ethan's chest. "Read it out loud. How the fuck's a sane person supposed to read that?"
Ethan gave Vox a glance he didn't want to try and decipher before he started reading the to-do list out loud.
9AM bargain with I-don't-care-write-that-as-his-name
10AM breakfast with important-fucking-Overlord-Ethan-you-useless-bitch
10.30 AM monthly overlord meeting
11 AM scheduled breakdown (why the fuck Ethan put that in was a mystery)
12PM paperwork
1PM more meetings [vox should know with who]
"Stop." Vox held up a hand in front of Ethan, squeezing his eyes shut against his pounding headache for a second.
"O-oh, okay," Ethan stammered, instinctively backing away.
On any other day, Vox would have tormented his assistant more. He would have come up with some bullshit task for Ethan to do and would have gotten mad when Ethan inevitably did it perfectly. He would have made Ethan attend those meetings in his bullshit schedule without any prior knowledge, those minor meetings, at least, and relax knowing that Ethan was squirming in an uncomfortable meeting chair somewhere in Hell.
Today wasn't normal, though. He felt dull around the edges, instead of the usual sharpness he usually presented himself with. All sights and sounds seemed like they were felt through the filter, and the filter was dirty. Apparently his vents weren't working eiter, because he was definitely overheated.
Stupid constraining body.
"Sir… are you all right?" Ethan asked hesitantly.
That question earned him a hard glare from Vox. Brave, stupid Ethan shied away. "What do you think."
It seemed Ethan didn't realise that Vox's question was a rhetorical one, because he responded anyway. "I don't know, sir, you haven't slept in a week."
It's been a week?
Vox opened his mouth to snap at his assistant again, then paused. "I'm charged, though," he protested. Ethan kept quiet, even though he knew Vox still required sleep and not just charging.
"Like… fully charged? I think?" Vox muttered to himself, flipping through wires tangled together like noodles on his desk to find his charger. After a while, he gave up, turning his feverish, irritated (horrible combination, by the way) gaze onto Ethan instead. "Get out, Ethan."
Ethan flinched slightly. "Valentino told me to keep an eye on you and to drag you out if I absolutely had to."
Vox's hypnotic eye glowed eerily in the semi-darkness. "Does Valentino pay you, or do I?"
Ethan stared at the singular eye, mouth hanging open stupidly. "You, Vox."
Vox glared at Ethan, then shuddered, breaking his concentration and the hypnosis effect on Ethan, who blinked and shook his head, snapping out of it. "Get out," he mumbled, resting his head on his arms. "Leave a toad in Val's studio, won't you?"
He watched Ethan stiffly nod and dart out, his office door clicking shut gently behind him. A quick glance at the clock told Vox he had about ten minutes before the bargain with I-don't-care-write-that-as-his-name.
He did feel a little stupid now, not knowing who the fuck he was doing the bargain with, and for what. Ethan's fault, naturally.
Vox slid his phone closer to him, scrolling through his notifications. Most were from his business associates, and some were from fangirls. Velvette had also texted him to demand his opinions on a piece, even though he knew she didn't give a shit about what he thought.
Almost mindlessly, Vox opened Val's contact and debated on calling him, but decided against it and sent him a simple text instead.
Vox: Val.
The reply came almost instantly, the special notification Vox set for Val going off. He smiled softly, despite himself.
Val: what
Vox: Do you remember who I had a meeting with?
Val: no.
Val: what the fuck?
Val: wait, was it important?
Claws tapping a calming rhythm on the tabletop, Vox tried to remember whether it was, in fact, important.
Vox: That's what I'm asking you.
Val: ask ethan
Vox: I didn't tell him.
Val: ur fucked babe <3
Sighing, Vox set his phone back down. He was fucked. At the back of his mind, a soft buzzing echoed, followed by beeping. "Shut the fuck up," Vox hissed, smacking his wrist on his casing again. It didn't help.
Instead of checking it out, Vox fumbled with a random wire and plugged it directly into his wrist. Colour exploded behind his closed eyelids, and he felt a lot more like himself when he opened his eyes again.
Still, the beeping didn't let up, along with his headache. A shrill screech sounded, making Vox hiss in pain, clutching at his head. His office spun as the vague image of Shok.Wav swimming over wobbled. "Shit," he whispered, breathing shallow.
He then made another stupid choice and yanked the wire out from his wrist. All the heightened colours faded back into that dull throb, the screech's frequency increasing by the tenfold, in turn making his headache pulse harder.
A feeble arm reached out to grab the wire and plug it back in for an extended minute of control, but missed, the wire slipping straight through his clawed fingers.
A low groan slipped free of his lips as he made a lunge for his phone, firing a text at the last chat opened, which was probably Val's.
Vox: hlep me
His internal speakers blared warnings about overheating, about rebooting, about shutting down. Panic flared orange as splashes of colour burst out in his vision in his body's last-ditch attempt to get help.
LOW BATTERY. LOW BATTERY. LOW BATTERY.
"Get the charger," Vox whispered to himself, but he couldn't maintain a proper grip on it, watching it slide between his fingers over and over again.
LOW BATTERY. OVERHEATING. REBOOT SYSTEM NOW.
I can't exactly do that shit, can I?
His eyelids drooped as he slowly lost control over his limbs. Staying awake was so fucking hard, and resting just for a minute…
Vox smashed his wrist into his metal casing again, the sound harsh and grating, barely waking him up and aggravating his headache.
LOW BATTERY. ONE PERCENT LEFT. LOW BATTERY.
The world spun again, as his vision tunnelled on Shok.Wav who was smashing his side onto the glass repeatedly as if he could break out and save his master.
Two slow blinks later, his eyes didn't reopen, Shok.Wav's rhythmic banging lulling him off the edge of consciousness.
BATTERY SPENT. SHUTTING DOWN.