Chapter Text
Valentino roughly tossed Vox’s disembodied head into their bedroom – thankfully onto the bed and not the floor – which Vox took as a sign that Val still cared, at least enough not to want his screen smashed. After all, his partner (ex-partner now, Vox corrected himself) had decided to save him. Sure, he’d done so by ripping his head off, but desperate times and all that.
Fine, Vox could admit he’d gotten a little carried away. Maybe almost killing everyone, including himself, wasn’t exactly his smartest plan. But hey, we all make mistakes, right? Sure, the other Vees were pissed at him now. But they’d calm down eventually. Val just needed a few sweet words and a good fucking, and all would be forgiven. He didn’t have a body right now, but a head was all he really needed to satisfy him.
“If you wanted to get me into bed, sweetheart. All you had to do was ask,” Vox purred.
Valentino glared down at him in disgust, growling in Spanish under his breath before he stomped out of the room.
“Wait, Val! You can’t just leave me here!”
The door slammed in response and he listened as the angry footsteps faded down the hallway. Then it was silent, save for the ever-present static buzzing from his head. Well…fuck. Maybe this would be harder than he thought. He’d had his fair share of fights with the other Vees, but this time felt different. He’d really fucked things up.
He tried reaching out his awareness to access the security cameras, but his powers were too drained. Shit. He wondered how long they’d leave him here. Surely, they’d come back eventually. It’s not like they’d just abandon him like this, right?
Vox wasn’t sure how long he laid there, staring at the dull blue glow his screen left on the ceiling, focussing on it intently. There was a reason he constantly kept himself busy: always watching, scheming and indulging. If there was one thing he dreaded most, it was being left alone with his thoughts.
Suddenly, he felt a presence join him in the dark room. A familiar frequency tickled at the back of his skull and he knew who it was before the shadow gave him away. The antlered head stretched menacingly across the ceiling, grinning down at him with its razor-sharp teeth. His eyes darted around the room, knowing the shadow moved of its own accord and Alastor could be lurking anywhere. Frustratingly, his perception was limited since he couldn’t even turn his fucking head.
“I know you’re in here, you old prick! Stop being such a creepy motherfucker and face me.”
Vox tried not to let the fear show in his voice. Alastor could easily kill him like this. All he’d need is one of Carmilla Carmine’s angel blades. He wouldn’t be surprised if the bitch had given him one specifically for this purpose. Vox’s life depended entirely on his old friend – not friend, he reminded himself bitterly, they were never friends – deciding it would be more fun to keep him alive. Honestly, that might be a fate worse than death.
Oh how quickly circumstances change. Less than a few hours ago, the Radio Demon had been at his mercy. Oh, who was he kidding? Al had been exactly where he wanted to be the whole time. Of course the bastard had a plan. He always had a fucking plan. He should’ve known it was too good to be true. But Vox had let his feelings cloud his judgement. Just like he had back then.
“If you’ve come here to finish the job, then at least have the decency to make it quick.”
He doubted Alastor would miss the opportunity to make him suffer. But if the Radio Demon had ever held a shred of fondness for him…well Vox could dream.
Alastor’s smug face manifested from the shadows at Vox’s bedside. “Don’t be ridiculous, old pal! What would be the fun in killing you like this?”
Vox let relief wash over him. Alastor might be a manipulative, silver-tongued prick. But he wasn’t a liar.
Still, Vox eyed him suspiciously. “Then why are you here? Come to gloat? Cause I’d rather you just fucking kill me.”
Alastor was the last person he wanted to deal with right now. The bastard had ruined everything he’d been working for. He should’ve been a God, instead he was reduced to a fucking iPad. Vox had never been so fucking humiliated. Well, almost never. Nothing would ever top that night at the bar. Stop fucking thinking about it.
“Oh, come now. Do you really think I’m that petty? Unlike you, I don’t need to publicly humiliate my enemies to make them feel small. In fact, you’ve become quite small and I didn’t even have to lift a finger,” Alastor chuckled darkly and ran a sharp claw along Vox’s screen.
Alastor seemed stronger than the last time he’d seen him. He stood straighter, with a confidence that had been lacking since his fight with Adam. He radiated power, Vox could feel it spark in the air between them. It made his skin prickle and his circuits hum, a siren song only he could hear. It reminded Vox why he’d been so drawn to Alastor all those years ago.
Now was not the time to reminisce, he chastised himself.
Vox bared his teeth at him. “So you’ve come to torture me, then? Fine. Do your fucking worst. I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of begging.”
He’d already had his head ripped off today, he might as well add torture by his mortal enemy to the list. He braced himself for whatever fucked up shit Alastor had in store for him. Maybe the fucker would actually eat him. Cut him up into tiny pieces, leaving his eyes til last so he could watch the whole time. He was grateful he didn’t have a body if that was the case. He didn’t think his monitor had much meat to it.
Alastor cackled and Vox hated the sound. It reminded him of when the laughter was softer, fonder. He used to covet the sound. Now it just made his blood boil.
“It’s quite the opposite, actually. I’ve come to help you,” Alastor said, as if it wasn’t the most ridiculous thing Vox had ever heard.
“How stupid do you think I am?”
“Exceedingly so,” Alastor smirked and Vox scowled. He’d walked right into that one.
Alastor held up his hands in a sassy, little shrug. “But as I told you earlier, you helped me break a chain that’s been a thorn in my side for a very long time. So I believe I owe you more than a simple thank you. Look, I even brought you a gift.”
Alastor waved his staff in the air and a ball of shadows appeared above the bed to form a humanoid shape. Well, almost humanoid. It was missing a head. Vox’s body fell from the shadow and landed on the bed with a thump.
Vox stared at it in disbelief. What kind of game was this bastard playing?
“No need to thank me, of course. It was hilariously easy to grab. No one paid even the slightest bit of attention to your body after that pitiful display. I doubt anyone’s even noticed it’s gone.”
Vox glared at him. “How do I know this isn’t some kind of trick?”
Alastor laughed, poking roughly at Vox’s body with his staff. “You don’t! Just be grateful I didn’t leave your body there to rot. We both know your limbs won’t grow back in this state, Vincent.”
Vox grit his teeth at the use of his real name. Alastor was the only one who called him that and he regretted ever telling him. It reminded him that he was once stupid enough to think Alastor could be trusted. That, maybe, he’d finally found someone who truly understood him. What a fucking joke.
Alastor continued, seemingly unconcerned by the old wound his word-choice had opened. “I suppose I could take it back. Leave you to lie here hoping your little friends-”
Alastor said the word ‘friends’ like the concept personally offended him.
“-decide to forgive you and build a new body. How long do you think that’ll take? A few weeks? Months? Maybe even years? You know how quickly time passes down here.”
He didn’t trust Alastor for a second. But he couldn’t deny the demon had a point. He’d saved him a lot of time. Now he just needed one of his Vox Tech engineers to put him back together.
The mattress suddenly dipped as Alastor crawled onto the bed and reached for his body.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Vox demanded, suddenly remembering his earlier fear about Alastor eating him. Is that why he brought his body here? To eat it in front of him?
Alastor rolled his eyes as he picked up Vox’s lifeless body and inspected the broken wires hanging from his neck. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m fixing you.”
“Like hell I’d trust you to fix me,” Vox scoffed.
“Why not? It’s not like it would be the first time,” Alastor reminded him.
Vox pressed his lips together in a grimace as he was assaulted by memories he’d rather forget. The almost concerned look that had crossed Alastor’s face back then as he’d stitched him up.
“You really should be more careful, Vincent. The demons here in hell are a lot more dangerous than human reporters. You can’t just kill your way to the top. You need to be smarter and pick your battles wisely or you’ll never be an overlord.”
Vox squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the memories away. Alastor didn’t acknowledge his reaction, focussed on organising the wires.
“Where do you keep your toolbox?” Alastor asked without looking up.
“It’s in the back of the closet,” Vox sighed in defeat.
It’s not like he could stop Alastor anyway. He couldn’t understand the demon’s motives, but he’d accepted that a long time ago.
Alastor sent his shadow to fetch the tools and it returned shortly with a wire stripper, pliers and a soldering iron. Vox gulped. He sure hoped Alastor remembered what he was doing. It’d been a long time since Alastor had been anywhere near him with a soldering iron. The shadow handed Alastor a pair of safety goggles, which he put on with a little too much excitement. His red eyes glowed ominously behind them.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Vox asked nervously.
“Of course! It's like riding a bike. Now hold still, dear,” Alastor reassured him with a less-than-reassuring maniacal grin as he held up the wire stripper.
Vox clenched his eyes shut as Alastor went to work. It was a lot more painful than he remembered, but he refused to give Alastor the satisfaction of screaming. He wouldn’t be surprised if the Radio Demon was being deliberately rough as a way to vent his frustrations about the whole ‘kidnapping’ thing. He tasted iron as his shark teeth pierced his bottom lip.
Alastor chuckled maniacally, delighted to watch Vox squirm in pain. Vox wondered if he should call out for the other Vees, but he doubted they’d hear him. Alastor controlled soundwaves and had no doubt sound-proofed the room. He wasn’t sure his friends would come help even if they could hear him.
After what felt like hours of torture, but was probably only several minutes, Alastor put the tools down and removed his safety goggles. There was a satisfied grin on his face as he admired his handiwork. Vox experimentally wiggled his fingers and was relieved when he felt sensation.
“I’ll be damned. You actually did it,” Vox said, impressed.
He went to sit up, but a firm, clawed hand pushed his chest down.
Alastor clicked his tongue, as if scolding a child. “Not so fast, old pal. We still need to stitch you back together.”
Alastor chuckled darkly, manifesting a needle with glowing green thread in his hand. Vox cringed at the sight of it, but didn’t argue. At least the most painful part was over. He remembered Alastor was much more skilled with a needle than he was with a soldering iron.
Alastor firmly gripped his chin, tilting his neck up as the needle pierced his flesh. Vox hissed in pain, but held still. He didn’t want Alastor complaining that he moved and would need to start over. Vox had made that mistake before and had learned the hard way that Alastor was a perfectionist. The Radio Demon took his time, ensuring each stitch was neat and tidy. Compared to the earlier torment, his movements could almost be described as gentle. Well as gentle as being stabbed repeatedly with a needle could be.
“Et voilà,” Alastor said, as he secured the thread. “Good as new.”
Vox reached for his neck, running his finger along the magical sutures. “Not bad.”
“Of course! I told you, it’s like riding a bike,” Alastor gave him a lopsided grin without teeth.
The smile reminded Vox of how Al used to look at him. Before he asked him to be partners. When he thought he actually meant something to him. The reminder soured his mood and he frowned.
“So what exactly do you get out of this? I know your help isn’t free,” Vox hissed.
Vox could’ve sworn he saw disappointment flicker on Alastor’s face, before his usual shit-eating grin was back.
“Can’t I help an old friend without needing something in return?” Alastor shrugged.
He felt his screen flicker in rage and he grabbed a fistful of the demon’s suit collar. “NO! Because there’s no such thing as friends in hell. You taught me that!”
Alastor’s smile became forced and he sunk his claws into Vox’s fist. “There you go again. Always with the touching. You just can’t keep your filthy hands to yourself.”
Vox scowled as memories forced themselves into his brain. A knee pressed gently into his thigh as they drank together at the bar. His shoulder leant against Alastor’s while sitting just a little too close on a couch. Hands clasped together, Alastor’s hand on his waist as they danced to swing music.
“Well if it bothered you so much, why did you never tell me to stop? You could’ve brushed me off or moved away. Why did you let me get away with it for so long? Why did you let me think…”
Vox shook his head, refusing to finish his sentence. He pushed Alastor off the bed and clenched his fists, blood dripping from his right onto the bedsheet.
Vox suddenly felt exhausted. “You don’t want me touching you? Fine. I’ll never fucking touch you again. Just get the hell out of my life, Al.”
Alastor looked shocked, as if he’d expected him to put up more of a fight. Then he scowled and raised his hands, shadowy tentacles suddenly wrapping around Vox’s wrists and ankles like shackles.
“No. You don’t get to decide that. You’re my prisoner now, Vincent. And I think it’s about time you got a taste of your own medicine.”