Chapter Text
Don’t look at him like that, Vox scolded himself mentally, averting his gaze from his friend. Whenever they met up for a few drinks late at night, it became increasingly difficult for him to hide the effect Alastor had on him, that warmth creeping up from the screen that served as his face. It was probably the exhaustion from the day, the alcohol, or the incredibly intimate atmosphere of their usual place, with its dim lighting and jazz playing softly in the background, mingling with the murmurs of the few other patrons.
He doubted Alastor failed to notice anything — he was keen, always attentive to the smallest details — but he didn’t seem to pay it any mind, perhaps simply attributing Vox’s flushed face to one drink too many and the warmth of the room.
That night, however, his friend seemed distracted; he was quiet and only gave one-word answers to Vox’s chatter instead of getting animated and involved like he usually did. The Television Demon had already asked him twice if everything was alright, but Alastor had brushed off his concerns, claiming he was merely tired.
Maybe he’s lost in his thoughts, Vox told himself. Over the past few weeks, the Radio Demon had taken out a couple of Overlords; one with troubling Nazi tendencies, and another who seemed intent on turning the female population of Pentagram City into his personal harem. Alastor chose his targets carefully, going after the most problematic and isolated individuals, so that the other Overlords wouldn’t decide to band together against him.
This still meant that the majority of sinners went out of their way to avoid Alastor; Vox, on the other hand, felt… safe with him. The two of them shared a unique understanding, strengthened by their own personal way of communicating through radio waves, though they rarely used that ability: as much as they trusted each other, it left their thoughts far too exposed.
Suddenly, Alastor stood up. “Good heavens, it’s gotten late. I believe it’s time for us to head home.”
Vox was taken aback; by their standards, the night had barely even begun. But he didn’t argue. Alastor probably had something weighing on his mind, and he would tell him about it when the time was right — perhaps another night, if he got drunk enough. He was a rather private person, even with him.
“Make sure you get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, I want you more awake than this,” Vox joked after they had paid and made their way toward the entrance of the bar. “We already barely have time to see each other during the day; if you start getting sleepy at the beginning of the evening, it’s over.”
“Don’t worry, pal, it won’t happen again,” Alastor replied. He put on a cheerful tone, but his ears twitched uneasily and his eyes kept darting away. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the usual time. Don’t worry.”
Vox gave him a nod and, after casting him one last slightly puzzled glance, made his way home.
***
Alastor watched his pal leave, before disappearing into the shadows and reappearing in an alleyway not far from Vox’s house. He would have liked to at least walk him home, to prolong their time together, but his master had given him very specific instructions regarding his new targets: this time, there would be three. He had been ordered to kill them one at a time, separately, but while tailing them, Alastor had discovered that they would be meeting with the other two companions that very same night; why waste any more time? He would deal with all of them at once.
Of course, he hated having to give up Vox’s company. Lately, he had been heavily occupied with his master’s assignments, and his moments with the Television Demon had been the only times he was allowed to unwind and relax.
You’re getting attached to him.
Alastor flicked his ear in annoyance, as if trying to chase the thought away.
He’s entertaining. He keeps me amused. That’s all. Nothing more, nothing less.
He cautiously slipped through the shadows near the building where the targets were located; a massive concrete structure that had probably once housed some sort of cargo, but was now abandoned and covered in obscene graffiti. The only reason homeless people and drug addicts hadn’t made it their new home was because, notoriously, sinners of a certain caliber used it as a meeting place.
Alastor emerged on the ground floor of the barely lit building, hiding behind a column. There was a lamp emitting an incredibly blinding amount of light.
No, he corrected himself, it’s not a lamp. It was a sphere of pure light suspended in midair. Interesting.
Gathered beneath the pool of light were three demons. One had the appearance of a reptile, with scaly skin and bulging eyes resembling rubies; the second had a canine-like muzzle (Alastor instantly hated him), while the third was the most peculiar: he resembled a fox-like creature, covered in bright yellow fur with a long, bushy tail. They were all wearing elegant suits in different colors: emerald, brown, and gold.
Alastor perked his ears, trying to catch their conversation, but they were only discussing plans to claim more souls; nothing that interested him. It was time to get the job done and return home to prepare his next radio broadcast.
He began his ritual of terror against his victims: when they were frightened, it was far more entertaining — and easier — to take them down.
A sinister melody echoed through the air as his silhouette stretched between the shadows, two monstrous green eyes gleaming within the darkness. The canine and the reptile startled, immediately stepping back.
The fox did not. He merely adopted a surprised expression before quickly composing himself.
Foolish.
“What the fuck is that?!”
Alastor could have attacked immediately, but he allowed a few more seconds to pass, giving fear enough time to properly sink into the sinners.
“The Radio Demon,” the fox-like demon said, with the same tone one might use to say “the gardener.” “I told you we would attract his attention.”
Alastor blinked.
Now that’s something new.
That sinner was either incredibly stupid or completely unaware of who the Radio Demon truly was. Well, he was about to find out.
He licked his lips, preparing to savor the screams and the blood… but then the fox made an almost irritated gesture in his direction, and the sphere of light flew toward him.
Alastor, surprised by such audacity, tried to dodge it, but the sphere shifted in midair and passed straight through his shadowy silhouette.
Pain.
A searing, unbearable pain unlike anything he had ever experienced before overwhelmed him. Alastor found himself kneeling on the ground, clutching his shoulder that burned as though a sphere of molten lead had pierced through his flesh.
His physical body had not been harmed, but his shadow form had — and it was an extension of himself.
The fox clicked his tongue. “Pathetic.” The sphere returned to him and stretched, transforming into a whip. “All this fear…” he cracked it toward Alastor, who barely managed to dodge. “For an insignificant, pseudo-Boogeyman of Hell?”
Alastor growled. How dare this miserable creature? He would kill him last, so he could enjoy his suffering all the more.
He merged into the shadows, but the whip of light struck again, wrapping around Alastor’s body this time and forcing him back into tangible form, dragging him toward the trio.
“Take the staff,” the fox ordered one of the other two.
“Belenos…” the reptile said cautiously. “I don’t think-”
“Do it!”
Reluctantly, the reptile approached Alastor, who was furiously struggling to free himself, and tore the staff from his hand.
What is happening? He can’t be this strong. She told me that-
Belenos released the whip, which transformed into a rope of light and continued wrapping itself around Alastor’s body from head to toe, lifting him several inches off the ground.
“So,” Belenos said, studying him carefully. “You are the famous Radio Demon, the terror of Pentagram City. Am I correct?”
“My reputation precedes me,” Alastor replied, forcing himself to maintain a composed expression despite his attempts to struggle. “I must admit, you possess rather unusual abilities for an infernal sinner.”
“I know.” He looked him up and down. “And what better way to properly test them than by killing the infamous Radio Demon himself?”
Alastor stopped moving. His smile softened. “The moment I free myself, I will slowly cut your body into tiny pieces, starting with your feet, and eat them. Your screams will echo through my radio broadcast until the Apocalypse, should there ever be one.”
The other two demons looked decidedly nervous. Belenos did not. If anything, he seemed amused.
He raised his fingers – tipped with claws, like those of many sinners – and summoned a glowing fragment that slowly spun in midair.
“It appears your darkness has very little effect on my power, doesn’t it?”
Alastor remained perfectly still when the fragment suddenly shot forward like a blade, barely grazing his right cheek.
The wound was superficial and healed almost immediately, but Alastor understood exactly what the fox was doing: he wanted to make sure Alastor could bleed. And he had just gotten his answer.
Belenos turned toward his companions. “Would you two like to add a new soul to our collection?”
“His?!” the reptile asked in disbelief, pointing at Alastor.
“Whose else?”
“Are you insane?” he hissed. “The moment he gets free, he’ll kill us all!”
Alastor blinked calmly. “At least one of you appears to possess a shred of intelligence. I suggest you-”
He did not finish the sentence.
Something sharp pierced his shoulder and forced its way through, emerging on the other side.
A deafening ultrasonic frequency escaped Alastor, one that only Belenos and his canine companion seemed capable of perceiving, as they both covered their ears with grimaces.
Stay calm. Stay calm.
Suppressing the pained gasps that threatened to escape his lips, Alastor glanced at his shoulder.
The end of the rope had come alive and pierced straight through his flesh, remaining lodged there.
That bastard.
He had not been informed that one of the demons possessed an ability like this, the complete opposite of his own.
The fox had the advantage, and he appeared to possess a power far beyond what was normal for a newly arrived sinner with such a low profile.
“I wouldn’t worry about him,” Belenos said, moving one finger in a circular motion. Alastor felt pain again, this time in his leg. “Rather, think of some creative way to convince the Radio Demon himself to surrender his soul…”
He smiled.
“Preferably before a few months pass.”
***
Vox was almost home, when he suddenly grabbed his head with a gasp: a piercing static noise had stabbed through his auditory receptors, leaving him nearly deaf.
He recognized the frequency.
Alastor?
He didn’t understand. That sound carried an unbearable amount of pain. How could Alastor be…?
Vox decided not to waste time overthinking it and easily traced the source of the sound, which was not far from where he was: a large abandoned warehouse he had passed by countless times without ever paying attention to it.
Traveling through the electrical current – apparently, no one had bothered disconnecting the building despite its abandonment – he materialized on the upper floor of the structure.
He immediately noticed a warm light coming from below. Leaning slightly over the balcony, he looked down at the lower level, and what he saw almost forced a strangled sound of horror from his throat.
Alastor was suspended several inches above the ground, completely bound by ropes that appeared to be made of pure light. He was bleeding heavily; a pool of red had already formed beneath him.
He was surrounded by three sinners. Two stood several steps away, while the third was directly in front of him, saying something.
From the upper floor, Vox couldn’t hear what the two were saying, but clearly Alastor’s response had displeased the sinner, because he raised one hand and clenched it into a fist. The Radio Demon’s body tensed, and more blood dripped onto the floor.
Vox, having completely forgotten that he was supposed to remain hidden, dug his claws into the railing so hard that the metal bent beneath his fingers.
He knew Alastor was strong and that he regenerated quickly, but he had never imagined he could end up in a situation like this. Maybe it was some kind of trick, some plan by the Radio Demon to deceive the three sinners?
No.
Vox knew his friend too well. Alastor would never willingly subject himself to such humiliation in front of random nobodies.
I have to do something.
Rationally, Vox knew he should be careful: if those sinners had managed to capture Alastor, they had to be extremely powerful, or at least possess some exceptional ability. He needed to stay calm and come up with a plan.
But then he saw the leader of the trio move his hand again, and Alastor flinched in pain, releasing another shrill frequency.
He had never seen Alastor suffer before. Not since they had met.
He couldn’t stand it.
He teleported to the lower floor and crouched down, pressing his palms against the metal-covered ground and sending out a electrical discharge toward the first two sinners. They didn’t even have time to scream: electrocuted, they collapsed to the floor, lifeless.
The fox-like demon’s fur stood on end, but the electricity didn’t seem to affect him much. He turned toward Vox, appearing only mildly surprised that his two associates had been taken down by an intruder who had caught them off guard.
Vox wanted to fry his brain on the spot, but now that the sinner had noticed him, he feared he might threaten Alastor.
Speaking of Alastor: he was looking at him too. His expression was relatively composed, but he looked deathly pale beneath the glow of the surrounding ropes and spheres of light.
“And you?” the fox sinner asked. “Where the hell did you come from?”
Normally, Vox would have gone into a full rant, but considering Alastor’s condition, he wasn’t in the mood.
“I’ll give you ten seconds to release the Radio Demon before I turn your eyeballs into hard-boiled eggs directly inside your skull.”
“Why don’t you just do it?”
“I’m feeling generous.” Vox raised a clawed hand, sparks crackling around it. “Release him. Now.”
The fox smiled. He moved one finger…
…and a glowing rope wrapped itself around Alastor’s throat.
Alastor felt it shift against his skin, changing shape and becoming sharper, almost like a blunt blade: not enough to cut him, but more than enough to make it clear that the slightest movement would be enough to tear open his throat.
His face twisted into a grimace. “You should have killed him immediately, Vox.”
Vox’s anger faltered, allowing his fear to show.
A mistake, Alastor thought. Keep calm, foolish Picturebox.
As if he had read his mind, Vox composed himself again.
“If you dare hurt him again, you’re a dead man. There won’t be a filthy hole in Hell I won’t be able to track you down from. I swear I’ll lock you away and torture you until the end of time. Now I’ll say it again: release him. Right fucking now.”
The sinner shrugged.
“Very well. I will… but only after I leave.” He pointed toward the exit. “I’ll go that way. Once I’m outside, I’ll set him free.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Then proceed. Perhaps you’ll manage to electrocute me before I can extend your little friend’s smile down to his throat.”
“Vox, don’t listen to him. Kill him now.”
Vox looked uncertainly at Alastor. That moment of distraction was enough.
Belenos suddenly illuminated himself to the point of blinding the other two, and in an instant, he vanished along with the spheres and ropes of light, plunging the warehouse into darkness.
Alastor fell heavily to the ground, a sharp static groan escaping him.
Vox immediately recovered from the shock and rushed to his side.
“Alastor! Alastor-”
“I’m fine,” Alastor hissed, pushing his hands away as he tried to stand on his own. “I don’t need help.”
“You’re not fine, damn it! Look at yourself!”
Vox gestured frantically toward his blood-soaked clothes, but when he noticed his friend’s expression, he stopped before placing his hands on his shoulders.
Alastor inhaled deeply as his wounds began to heal. He remained kneeling; trying to stand at that moment would have been pointless.
“My staff,” he said.
Vox immediately understood and ran to retrieve it from the reptile’s body, bringing it back to Alastor.
Alastor took it, then shot Vox an angry glare.
“What are you doing here?”
“I heard you. You- you were in pain. I followed your radio waves here and- ”
“What on Earth possessed you to do that?! You should have killed that idiot immediately!”
Alastor forced himself to his feet, roughly pushing away Vox’s hand when he tried to offer assistance. Despite this, he lost his balance and had to grab onto the Television Demon to avoid falling. A frustrated growl escaped him.
“I saw that he had you. I was afraid that-”
“What? That he would kill me? I had the situation under control, Vox!”
“Bullshit! I saw you, I felt what you were feeling-”
Alastor abruptly stepped away from him. “I never asked you to come rescue me. You know perfectly well that I want you to stay out of my affairs-”
“Your affairs? That piece of shit was using you as a fucking knife sharpener, what was I supposed to do? Walk away and pretend I saw nothing?!”
“You shouldn’t have come at all. I didn’t need you!”
“You came for me! When we met, when I was attacked right after arriving in Hell, remember?”
“That’s different. I’m not a weak newborn sinner, Vox!”
Vox flinched. “I didn’t mean that. You’re not weak, but there’s nothing wrong with- ”
“Stop!” Alastor cut him off. “You should have stayed out of it. Because of you, that creature escaped. And what the hell were you thinking?! Attacking so openly, without knowing the extent of your opponents’ abilities?”
Vox swallowed, lowering his gaze. “I was scared for you, Alastor.”
“Your pathetic sentimentality put both of us at risk! Haven’t you learned anything during all these years in Hell?! For Satan’s sake, You were as impulsive as a child, Vox!”
Vox opened his mouth, furious, but his gaze fell on Alastor’s body, on his clothes soaked in blood. He stopped himself. “You know what? You’re acting like a colossal asshole, but I’m not going to argue with you while you’re in this condition. You need a doctor.”
“No.” Alastor snapped, his eyes darkened, taking on the appearance of radio dials. Anyone else would have run; Vox didn’t even blink. “I’m fine. I told you!”
“Alastor…”
“Go home, Vox.”
“Alastor!”
Before Vox could grab him, Alastor dissolved into the shadows, taking the two lifeless bodies with him.
The Television Demon remained frozen for a moment, alone in the dark building. Then the anger returned. “FUCK YOU! Fuck you, you stubborn bastard! Next time I’ll let you die, you ungrateful asshole!” He shouted into the empty warehouse purely out of personal spite.
He had always admired Alastor’s prideful personality, but he had never been spoken to like that by him. And for what? For saving him? What an asshole. If he ever found himself in danger again, Vox would leave him at the mercy of his attackers. Maybe then he would learn to show some gratitude.
Before leaving, however, Vox looked once more at the spot where Alastor had been restrained. Under the faint reddish light filtering through a window, the dark stain left behind by the Radio Demon’s blood was still visible.
Vox felt his stomach twist.
Alastor can get hurt. I never thought that was possible. Is he going to be okay?
He clenched his teeth and left.
***
As soon as he materialized back in his apartment, Alastor strode – or rather, limped slowly – over to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and downed it in one swallow, ignoring the faint tremor in his hand.
What the fuck happened?
This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He should have killed those three idiots in one strike, gone home, and spent the rest of the evening relaxing with good music and a book. How had it ended like this?
If Vox hadn't shown up...
He shoved the thought away. Vox should never have come. Alastor would have gotten himself out of that situation just fine.
A situation I should never have been in to begin with.
He pressed a hand against his chest with a grimace. His wounds were healing quickly, but they were deep and extensive. They would probably take the entire night to mend completely, and he'd likely still be in pain throughout the next day.
I need to talk to her. Now.
But he couldn't do that looking like this.
With some effort, he peeled the blood-soaked clothes from his body, took a shower, and clumsily wrapped the still-healing injuries in bandages. After downing another glass of whiskey to steel himself, Alastor teleported to Cannibal Town.
At that hour, well past midnight, the streets were almost deserted. He made his way to Rosie's emporium – closed for the night – and circled around to the back of the building, where a charming gazebo stood.
There, waiting for him, sat the Overlord of the cannibals. She was calmly sipping a cup of tea, and another place had already been set across from her.
"Alastor, my dear," she greeted him with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "What have you done?"
"Rosie, dear," Alastor echoed mockingly as he approached. "I require a few very, very small explanations regarding what happened to me earlier."
He sat down without waiting to be invited, standing was still difficult. The teacup in front of him was already full, but he ignored it.
"I carried out your assignment..."
"I gave you very specific instructions, did I not?"
Alastor blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I told you to take the three sinners one at a time, leaving Belenos for last. Not to try killing all three simultaneously."
"I thought I'd be doing you a favor. Three for the price of one seems perfectly reasonable, doesn't it? You neglected to mention that this Belenos was that powerful."
He enunciated the last words slowly, then waited. When Rosie didn't answer immediately, he pressed on. "Rosie. We have a very specific agreement."
"We do."
"I gave you my soul." He hated saying those words out loud. "In exchange for your guarantee that I would become the strongest sinner in Hell."
"And you are," Rosie replied. "But you failed to account for two things. First, you acted with foolish impulsiveness and arrogance. I told you not to attack Belenos immediately, yet you did anyway. And then you failed to adapt once you realized what you were dealing with."
"'Adapt?'" Alastor repeated, anger rising. "How can he possibly be that powerful? He just arrived!"
Rosie regarded him impassively.
"Tell me, did it never occur to you that perhaps you weren't the only human arrogant enough to make a bargain with an infernal entity in order to gain an advantage after death?"
Alastor stiffened.
What?
"So you're saying... someone empowered him?"
"I had my suspicions. I intended to discuss them with you once I had more definitive answers. But your little stunt tonight ruined those plans."
"What exactly do you mean?"
"I suspect Belenos and his followers entered into a pact with the Root."
The Root.
It had other names, of course, but in Hell, names carried too much power to be spoken carelessly.
Alastor picked up the teacup just to occupy his hands. His claws tightened around the porcelain hard enough that it threatened to crack.
"They contacted Hell before they died?"
"No. She contacted them. The boundary between the afterlife and the world of the living is thinner than most people imagine."
"I thought she was interested in me."
Rosie let out an exasperated sigh. "Of course she is, Alastor. But climb down from that pedestal. Do you truly believe she would abandon her goal of freeing herself from her prison just because of our agreement?"
"Right. The agreement." Alastor's voice turned bitter. "I provide her with souls to sustain herself, and in return she leaves me the hell alone."
"You should be more grateful. Had I not intercepted your call before she did..."
"Oh, certainly," Alastor growled. "I'm deeply grateful that I surrendered my soul to become the errand boy of not one, but two eldritch entities."
Rosie looked at him coldly. "Would you rather have made a bargain with her?"
Alastor ground his teeth and lowered his gaze. "You know I wouldn't."
"Because you know exactly what that would have meant. She would have reshaped you to her liking, creating the perfect vessel. And then-"
"I know! You don't have to remind me!" Alastor snapped. "So now she's chosen Belenos and the other two as potential vessels to free herself?"
"As I said, I haven't reached any final conclusions yet. That's why I told you to proceed carefully." She fixed him with a pointed stare. "That said, I believe they were experiments. Belenos escaped. Where did you send the other two?"
"Where else?" Alastor replied. "To her."
"Good. She'll almost certainly consume them. I doubt she'll grant them a second chance. But Belenos is another matter entirely. He seems perfectly capable of controlling his new power."
"So our agreement is no longer valid?" Alastor asked. "I'm no longer the strongest sinner in Hell?" Despite everything, a tiny flicker of hope stirred inside him.
Rosie laughed. "Relax, dear. Of course you are. But you're also arrogant. Belenos will never surpass you in raw power. However, the nature of his ability gives him an inherent advantage over yours. Meanwhile, you've grown so accustomed to overwhelming superiority that you've forgotten what it means to fight an equal without holding all the cards. He exploited that."
Alastor carefully set the untouched teacup back on the table before he shattered it.
"I was evaluating my options. If it hadn't been for-"
He cut himself off abruptly, though he had no doubt Rosie already knew.
"For Vox's arrival?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.
"He wasn't supposed to be there," Alastor muttered. "That foolish, impulsive-"
"That's rather rich coming from the man who apparently planned on getting himself captured and tortured." She tilted her head. "He saved you, didn't he?"
"He did not save me!" Alastor shot back. "I would've freed myself! All he did was make everything worse. He let that idiot escape, and-"
...and he put himself in danger for no reason.
"-and now Belenos has disappeared to who knows where."
Rosie slowly stirred her tea. "You and Vox have grown rather close over the years, haven't you?"
"What does that have to do with anything?" Alastor asked irritably. "We're business partners. That's all."
"I think you mean friends." She raised a hand before he could interrupt. "I know how much you despise that word, Alastor, but let's be honest. I know you. You're incredibly selective. You wouldn't spend that much time with someone you didn't think worthy of your attention. Nor would you be so... intimate with them."
Alastor lowered his head and muttered: "I fail to see what any of this has to do with Belenos or the Root."
"Have you considered the possibility that Vox might become involved in all of this?"
"Vox? No." He let out a forced laugh. "I mean... why would he?"
"Isn't it obvious? The Root wants you, and she's willing to use whatever means necessary despite our agreement. If she were to discover there's someone who cares about you that much..."
Alastor shot to his feet, only to instantly regret it as a sharp bolt of agony tore through his abdomen. "It's been a delightful conversation, Rosie, but I have to go." He forced himself upright. "I assure you, next time Belenos won't escape. I'll serve his head to the Root on a silver platter so she understands what happens when someone dares oppose me. As for Vox, he's a grown Overlord perfectly capable of taking care of himself. I see no reason to worry about him."
He turned to leave.
"One last thing," Rosie called after him. "Whatever happens... do not contact the Root."
Alastor snorted. "You might as well tell me not to trust a stranger offering me candy. Do you honestly take me for an idiot?"
"No, Alastor. But I know you can be reckless. And tonight was proof enough."
Shaking his head, Alastor dissolved into the shadows.
***
Even after returning to his apartment, Alastor couldn't stop dwelling on Rosie's words. The thought that the Root wanted him that badly might have flattered him, if it weren't such an incredible nuisance.
And what about Vox?
Absolutely nothing. He's just a colleague whose company I enjoy, nothing more. I never asked him to come help me, he's not in any danger, and besides, I'm not his keeper. He can take care of himself just fine.
But Belenos must have noticed that he and I...
One of his ears twitched uneasily.
That he and I what? Nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. And once again, Vox is not my goddamn priority. He's an Overlord, for heaven's sake.
He hated how Rosie's warning kept buzzing around in his head like a particularly persistent gnat.
A timid thought crossed his mind.
Maybe I should call Vox to...
To what? Ask if he was all right? Please. He hadn't even broken a sweat during the fight. Thank him?
For stupidly putting himself in danger for my sake? For absolutely no reason, considering I HAD EVERYTHING UNDER CONTROL and DID NOT NEED TO BE SAVED?
With a frustrated growl, Alastor ran his claws through his hair. He could usually think with perfect clarity and composure, what was this tangled mess of contradictory thoughts? Since when had he become so emotional?
This was all Rosie's fault.
No... Vox's.
Maybe I should call him just to give him a proper lecture. Tell him that Belenos might try to get revenge on him now, so he'd better keep both eyes open more than usual, and that none of this would've happened if he hadn't interfered.
Yes. That's what I'll do.
He ignored the fact that he had just found the perfect excuse to contact the Television Demon and walked over to the wooden radio sitting on the coffee table in the middle of the living room. Vox owned an identical one, and the two of them could use them to communicate from their respective apartments, though they rarely bothered, given their ability to teleport.
Alastor had only just laid a hand on the dials when a voice crackling with static emerged from the speaker.
"Al...astor? Alastor, are you there?"
The Radio Demon remained perfectly still and silent. On the other end of the line, Vox sighed.
"Alastor, if you can hear me, I just want to know if you're okay. And just so we're clear, you were a complete asshole to me earlier, but... right now I only want to make sure you haven't passed out in a pool of your own blood, or that that idiot didn't come back to finish the job." A brief pause. "And in case you're about to get pissed off, just know that you're the strongest person I've ever known, in life or in death." Another huff. "Yeah, you pompous bastard, I said it. You can gloat about it until the end of time. Screw you." His voice softened almost imperceptibly. "But please... let me know you're okay. Or if I need to rush over there with a first-aid kit... or fight by your side."
Alastor let out a slow breath. He turned one of the dials.
"I'm fine, Vox. Go to sleep. And be careful around Belenos, that's his name. I'll deal with him, but... you should still watch yourself. He may try to take revenge."
He cut the connection before Vox had a chance to answer.