Chapter Text
It wasn’t working. The spell, the bubble, the fucking power of friendship bullshit whatever they were trying wasn’t working. Angelic steel bent and buckled so violently it sounded like the Might of Lilith was screaming, the populace of Pentagram City’s last chance of containing the explosion shattered like glass as energy and light swallowed all.
Heat.
Burning, agonising heat that seared into Vox’s very soul; a brand he’d never be able to remove. Not that he’d have long to live with it as pain ripped through all of his senses.
No. No. NO.
It wasn’t meant to go like this. He’d planned out every step. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening. His headless body wasn’t lying prone on the ground beside him. The cannon wasn’t overloading and destroying the entire city or ring or even Hell itself.
The cables in what remained of his neck sparked furiously as Vox struggled to deny what was right in front of him.
White light swallowed them all.
The gathered Overlords. The citizens of Pride. The princess and her useless bunch of weaklings.
Shok.Wav
No.
Val and Vel.
No!
Alastor’s eyes met his right before—
NO!
The blinding agony was almost a relief as the vaporised scenery faded from view.
He didn’t want this.
Vox lurched forward out of his chair, claws flailing madly as gravity reasserted itself and his back hit the floor with a solid thud.
What the fuck?
His eyes darted left and right but took nothing in. He couldn’t, not while his heart was racing in his chest and alerts were popping up left and right about internal heating and system pressure. Every heaving breath left his lungs — he had lungs again? And claws and limbs and — as though it had been punched out of him.
The world was spinning too fast, or was it him? He couldn’t tell and there was nothing to anchor himself to. His thoughts were screaming at him. Nothing made sense and error message after error message pinged for his attention. Even his signal was tearing apart at the seams; the usual smooth frequency was now jagged and shrieking into dead air.
Gone. Everyone gone.
Vox dug his claws — his again not a feature on a lifeless body — into the floor in a vain attempt to put a halt to the endless kaleidoscope of colour and sound that drowned him. He shut his eyes but the colours followed him into the darkness of his own mind, forcing him to relive it all. Every stupid mistake he made that led to that fucking white light destroying everything he ever gave a damn about, played out in front of him like the world’s worst greatest hits reel.
How about we make a little deal?
Alastor holding out a hand. Alastor offering him everything he’d ever wanted. Alastor under his roof, his control, getting a front row seat to how much of a bad decision it was to laugh in Vox’s face. Alastor within reach after seven years. Alastor watching him with hungry, eager eyes.
Stroke my friend’s ego, he needs it.
Alastor laughing maniacally as deal after deal broke in succession.
You fucking creep.
Alastor as always.
The Radio Demon triumphant again. Until he wasn’t. Until he burned like the rest of them when that bomb of angelic power went off in the heart of Pentagram City. The bomb that Vox had placed and gleefully lit the fuse of after everything he’d built crumbled to bits.
Fuck, what had he—
“Tell us, how does it feel to be a total failure?”
Vox’s eyes snapped open and he lifted his head just enough to see the live interview playing out on one of the dozens of screens in his office — the tower? How? What? — and nearly sent himself into another spiral of uncomprehension as he saw Katie Killjoy ripping into Charlie Morningstar with a gleeful grin on her face.
“What.The. Fuck?” He murmured, pushing himself up into a seated position. Slowly raising a hand to his neck Vox swallowed heavily as echoes of Val’s brutal beheading bled through his consciousness.
Keeping one eye on the impossible interview he reached out to grab the arm rest of his chair and shakily pulled himself back into it. The room briefly spun again at the shift but he sucked in a deep breath and forced it to stop.
The princess had now grabbed Katie’s pen and if Vox wasn’t sure he’d gone completely insane he’d take great enjoyment in reliving little Miss Bleeding Heart sheepishly wilt in high definition.
This interview happened almost a year ago. Had someone put it on as a rerun? It was a decent idea to discredit her even more than she already was but he hadn’t authorised it and his employees knew damn well not to pull something like this without him authorizing it first.
Another round of alerts popped into view about his heart rate again, recommending he calm down immediately. Bla. Bla. Bla. It’s not like it would kill him.
One of his claws nicked the base of his neck.
“Shit!” Vox jerked his hand away and stared at the red stain on the tip of his finger. He blinked down at his hand, then his arm, then the rest of him. As Katie’s rampage played in the background Vox carefully checked over his body. He tapped his feet. He clenched his hands into fists. He placed a palm on his chest and felt the rabbiting pace of his heart. Nervous system was working. All the scars from previous battles were there and if his finger lingered over the one Alastor had given him in their last proper fight before the other demon disappeared then at least no-one was around to see it.
Thump
Vox nearly jumped out of his own skin at the noise. Why was it all so loud? But familiarity had him moving before he realised it and in less than a second he was in front of the glass pane staring up at the creature that had made the noise.
“Shok.wav?” He whispered before wincing at how wretched he sounded; like he’d been rubbing his throat with sandpaper.
His baby boy, the best and biggest demon shark in the world, rumbled excitedly at the attention and pressed up further into the glass. Shok.wav blinked down at him, his nose and jaw squished up in a rather unfortunate position.
Vox laughed. Not his usual laugh, this was a broken weak thing that scraped his teeth as it escaped his mouth, but it was a laugh.
Then he laughed again and again. The light of his screen reflected off Shok.wav’s frontal eye and the shark blinked once more as Vox collapsed against the aquarium glass. He laughed helplessly while clutching his sides tight enough to make sure he didn’t fall to pieces. Laughter echoed around the room, filling the space with every hysterical chuckle, but Vox couldn’t stop.
Minutes or maybe hours passed before he slid down to his knees with one last laugh. Pain flared in his gills with every breath from how hard he’d been squeezing himself and he was sure if he looked there would be more of his own blood on his claws.
Pathetic.
What new nightmare was this? Had he uncovered some new layer of eternal punishment previously unknown to sinners? He was always hunting for the next new thing after all.
Vox snorted at the thought before daring to look back at Shok.wav.
“Nope, can’t be a torture dimension if you’re here with me,” he mused aloud while idly drawing patterns against the glass. Shok.wav perked up at his voice and keenly tracked the motions of his finger. “You’ve never done anything wrong in your entire life, have you Shoky?”
The cooing earned him a full body wiggle which pulled a tired smile to his face.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
The interview had ended a while ago and with a thought he shut off the screen now playing one of his own adverts in between episodes of some reality show he couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of. Vox twisted around so his back was against the glass and took in the sight before him.
It was his office, he’d spent more hours in this room than any other for most of his afterlife and he doubted any illusion was good enough to recreate the nicks and scratches on his previous heads that sat across from his desk in their glass displays. Vox stretched out his arms and groaned as something popped in his back.
That all felt real as well.
The chaotic whirlwind from before had faded with his laughter and that left him here, sat on the floor of his office wondering what the fuck was going on.
He’d seen the Might of Lillith explode, he’d felt himself vaporise into nothing along with everyone there.
Don’t think about them. Don’t think about them. Don’t think about them. Don’t think about them. Don’t think about them. Don’t think about them. Don’t think about them. Don’t think about them. Don’t think about them. Don’t think about them. Don’t think about them. Don’t think about them.
Maybe this was some last second hallucination caused by his exposure to all of that angelic power. He hadn’t exactly been concerned with personal safety towards the end. The idea sounded plausible, but if his mind had wanted to give him one second of happiness before annihilation why send him here? Seeing Shok.wav was a massive bonus of course and yet, the image that came to mind when he thought of the last time he’d been truly, unambiguously happy was…different.
Less bright neon lights and more dimly lit cramped room in the back of their bar with a piano squeezed into one corner and shared smiles that felt more like a home than anything he’d had back on earth.
INCOMING CALL: VELVETTE
Vox jolted back, he really needed to stop doing that before he pulled something vital, and smacked his screen against the glass. Without thinking he pulled up a screen to transfer the call to and before he could fully recalibrate Vel’s face snapped into focus.
All of the air was sucked from his lungs as a twisted, wrenching pit of grief opened up in his chest. An unfathomable sense of loss grabbed his throat in a vice grip and to his horror Vox could feel his eyes start to sting.
Alive.
She was alive.
He hadn’t killed her.
Alive.Alive.Alive.Alive.Alive.
She wasn’t glaring at him with angry disappointment over barely concealed hurt. He hadn’t broken her trust into a million pieces. It was fine. He didn’t have to scream into nothingness about her death.
Velvette was alive.
And not looking at him. Instead her gaze was fixed on one of her many phones as her fingers flew across the touchscreen.
“Hey Vee, it’s been like twelve hours since anyone’s seen you so just want to check you’re not hiding away in your man cave again on some super secret project.” She drawled before flicking a glance towards the camera.
“It’s not a man cave, it’s my office,” Vox replied automatically, the paths of a well worn argument too tempting to ignore. “And I’m—
Going insane.
Thinking that I’ve gone back in time.
Relieved that you’re still breathing.
Mourning you even though you’re right in front of me.
“— a busy man. You know how I get some times, Vel.”
She hummed, unimpressed. “Yeah I do and it usually ends with you collapsing in a sleep deprived mess with half the tower on the fritz.”
“What do you mean usually? That only happened one time!”
“Voxtagram says otherwise babe.”
Vox snorted and shrugged his jacket off onto the floor, it was getting warm and even the coolness of the aquarium glass could only do so much.
“Voxtagram says whatever you want it to say.”
She grinned, sharp and cruel and he felt his own mouth curl up into a smile.
“Of course it does. Now first of all congrats on the princess interview, that clip of her and Killjoy is everywhere. First sign of royalty after seven years and that’s the best they got?” She twisted her head around to yell at one of her models and Vox rolled the sleeves of his shirt up,
“Apparently so, guess no-one bothered to suggest that addressing the exterminations which her father agreed to and sold all of us down the river for her sake might be a bit contentious. I mean really,” He swapped his voice to the saccharine tone he’d used to lure the Devil himself into a trap. “It breaks my heart to see my people being slaughtered every year, then maybe have a word with your dear old dad.”
Vel laughed and Vox let himself relax a little. If this was a last moment of peace then there could have been worse ones, a lot worse.
“Gonna have a field day watching this hotel of hers crash and burn. Without any support I give it a month, if that. Although are you ready for what Val’s gonna do?” She asked with a sigh. “Hope you’re ready to play flat-faced prince for him when the tantrum about ‘Angel-baby’ joining up with the royals hits, or are you guys off right now?”
Nails digging into his skin. Wires snapping. Pain. Alerts. Watching his body fall to the ground while hands clasped the side of his casing.
“Off,” He forced back a shudder. “Definitley off.”
“Aww, you still mad he ghosted you for that date? I’m almost impressed, you two usually aren’t apart for longer than a month.” He levelled her a flat look which she completely ignored. “You sure you can’t just make up for this week or something? I don’t want him tearing up my sewing studio because he’s not gettin’ any from either you or his pet whore.”
“No Vel.”
“Suit yourself, you’ll be the one deadline with the pissbaby when he starts crying after all,” She shook her head before turning to face him fully, arms crossed over her chest and the secondary phone vanished from sight.
Ah, serious mode.
“Now look Vox, about this upcoming Overlord meeting which we all know you hate going to.” All three of them did but that wasn’t the point. “I was the one who found the bloody angel head so it’s only fair that I get to rub it in the faces of those decrepit old fossils—”
Oh he’d nearly forgotten this. Velvette had wanted to go to the council meeting even though it had been his turn on their rota, the rota that was mainly him and Vel because Valentino going alone was not an option. She’d argued in the weeks leading up to it that the head was her find, that she deserved the reveal that angels could be killed in hell, that he didn’t have the monopoly on breaking news etc.
To be clear he did.
He’d said no last time. He’d planned the perfect performance to get the other Overlords on his side, knew exactly what words to say that would sway their minds and Vel was a relatively new Overlord; sharp as a tack and strong as any of them but lacking in experience.
He’d said no right up until that broadcast match with Alastor had led to a citywide blackout with him at the centre. Facing the other Overlords and Alastor after that display had been too daunting so he’d sent Velvette instead. Vox was also self-aware enough to know that simply being around Alastor had a tendency to derail his thoughts and they’d needed the reveal of the angel head to cause a stir, not descend into another round of bickering. No matter how much fun that would have been for him.
“Alright, you can do it.” He said, interrupting her mid-rant about something Carmilla had done which had apparently caused an insult so grave even her ancestors were angry about it.
Velvette froze in shock.
“Shit, really?”
“Yep.”
“You’re serious?”
“As the grave.” He rubbed the back of his neck, no wires, no painful sparks, just cable and skin as it should be. “And you’re right. The find was yours and I know you know how to work that room.”
For a moment, Vox could have sworn he saw a hint of something that might generously be called genuine gratitude in Velvette’s face before it was swiftly replaced by her usual brash confidence.
“Course I do! Glad to see you finally came to your senses, thought for sure I’d have to ask for another week at least before you caved.”
He rolled his eyes at her preening. “This is the last time I do anything nice for you.”
“No it isn’t, toodles.” With a crisp wave and one last yell towards her models Velvette ended the call.
Vox was still sitting on the floor. Nothing had changed. He’d died once before already and this didn’t feel like that, a lot less electricity and shards of glass in his eyes. This felt devastatingly real which was not something he knew what to do with.
Hell, at this point it might be another trick up Alastor’s sleeve. Maybe he’d allied with the Morningstars to trap him in an eternal delusion.
Except Alastor would sooner chew his own leg off than work with Lucifer. He’d work with Charlie — and that would never stop stinging, what did that whiny brat have that Vox didn’t, why was she good enough, what had Al seen in her that was worth it — but not the king. Angel Dust’s reports from the hotel had been quite clear that there was no love lost between Alastor and their useless monarch so that was one possible alliance Vox could dismiss out of hand.
Ever so slowly he reached up and ran a claw over his broken antenna. Sparks jumped between metal and skin causing him to wince. Sucking in a deep breath he bit the bullet and grabbed it, yanking hard.
His vision went dark from the pain. Pain that was wired directly into his head, he could feel the pixels and technicolor warning stripes ripping across his glitching screen as another barrage of error messages sprung into view.
Vox muted himself — another thing to look into, the thought of anyone having power over his internal settings was horrifying and Baxter would be lucky if Vox didn’t kill him on sight — so that his wail of pain was internal only, before releasing his grip with a gasp.
Shok.wav bumped against the glass, spamming Vox’s messages with Daddy? Daddy? Daddy?
One minute passed.
Then two.
He waited until his breathing normalised before tapping the glass in front of Shok.wav’s snout.
“I’m okay bud, I’m okay.”
And increasingly believing that this was real. He checked the date three times and it didn’t change, the internet revealed multitude of comments decrying the princess’ ‘new’ idea for a redemption hotel.
Vox stood up on shaky legs and set his hands down on his desk, with barely a thought he brought up ratings, reports from R&D, project proposals, meeting invites, notes on the discovery of the angel head…it was all there.
He needed a moment.
Collapsing back onto his chair he stared up at the ceiling with a blank expression.
Time travel then.
Great.
What in Satan’s name was he going to do with that?
Hey, maybe not build a giant death trap of a cannon that destroys everything? That’s an idea, he set a reminder for a year’s time: NO CANNONS.
Problem solved.
If only it were that easy. Vox tilted his head to look out the window, the Entertainment District sprawled outwards in all directions, an empire he had spent years building. He’d killed, tortured, manipulated and more to get it and then watched it crumble to dust in seconds.
The worst part was he could see himself doing it all over again, the danger was lit up with floodlights but the path wasn’t barred to him yet.
He couldn’t trust himself on this. Velvette’s giddy smile flashed through his mind, so pleased he’d put his faith in her. Something would have to be done. If he and Alastor killed each other, fine that was between the two of them; the fights were fun and if that was the only way Al would let Vox near again then he’d take what he could get. But he wasn’t going to let it take anything else, not again.
He brought up one of the feeds from the city security cameras which showed the hotel, it had been the only one at the time until Alastor had revealed himself and then the place had been subject to non-stop surveillance from multiple cameras and drones.
Tapping the screen with a claw he glared at the source of most of his recent woes. The building didn’t look that sturdy, one ‘accidental’ construction accident with some power lines would be enough to bring it down.
Which would immediately be negated by Lucifer magicking up a new one or Alastor pulling in a decent construction crew.
Then there was the rather irritating fact to consider that the hotel had put a stop to the exterminations when they’d killed that psychopath Adam. Vox had very little good to say about the princess, and nothing good to say about redemption, but at least she had dragged Heaven down from their saintly thrones and back to the table. Oh, he had no doubt that the only reason they showed up was because sinners had shown that they were no longer sheep waiting for the slaughterhouse but it was better than nothing.
He couldn’t risk that not happening. At the very least the information about angelic steel being able to injure Exorcists needed to be spread. Vox could do it himself but he couldn't guarantee that Heaven would stop if a lowly sinner led the charge and not the Princess of Hell.
So then what did that leave him with? He couldn’t get involved with the hotel again or rather couldn’t get involved with Alastor because that was the only reason he’d spared the charity project a single thought…fine, all of his thoughts. He’d been doomed the moment Valentino told him that Alastor was working with Charlie.
Rage. Jealousy. Relief. No small amount of hurt. Humiliation. Anticipation.
A heady cocktail of emotions that resulted in his head being torn off by his own partner and all of Pride hating him.
If the issue was proximity could he just stay away?
Vox paused and mulled the idea over.
Staying away meant not having to hypnotise Angel Dust and deal with Val’s ire. He already had all of the useful information from his spy plan in the last timeline — he had to think of a better way to phrase that or he’d just start cackling from the absurdity — hence there was no need to risk getting caught doing it again. He knew Alastor had managed to get a deal with Charlie somehow so there was no point in worrying about it happening when it had happened once when he was interfering. He wouldn’t have to tie himself up in knots against a foe that frankly didn’t deserve his time or attention because Vox could not care less about redemption.
There was only one reason he’d spared any attention on the hotel last time and that reason had horns and enjoyed scraping sinner flesh directly from the bones of his victims.
One year until he fired the Might of Lilith at Heaven. He could avoid the hotel for a year right? Let them do their thing and keep himself sane in the meantime, then afterwards he could see what the playing field looked like and figure out what to do with Alastor.
Alastor and his deal.
Your little power grab helped break another chain that's been holding me back for quite some time.
Nope. No, he wasn’t going to touch that with a ten foot pole until he’d had at least two nights of sleep. Goodbye. Shove that thought into a data packet and send it on an infinite loop around his brain. He was too tired for that shit.
If he had a nose he’d be pinching it.
However, Vox knew he’d need to put a restriction in place so that he didn’t go running off after Alastor’s tail at the first provocation.
FUCK HELL, FUCK HEAVEN, AND FUCK ALL OF YOU! As long as I wipe that smile off of Alastor's FUCKING FACE I don't care what happens.
He’d had the last word and it tasted like ashes in his mouth. Vox closed his eyes and started to flip through his memories. That would be enough, a simple alert that whenever he started getting too close would ping and remind him of that moment on top of the cannon.
The lines of code started to meld together, he poured in the feelings of one of his worst days in Hell. Then a thought struck him and he reached further into his memory banks. If he really wanted this to stop him then he needed to make sure it was effective.
Vincent stood in front of an old full length mirror, words spilling from his mouth with a nervous smile despite the hours of practice.
“You can do this, you can do this.” His eyes flickered to the photo clenched in his hands.
A blue claw ran over the only uncorrupted image of the Radio Demon ever taken.
“The worst he can do is say no.”
FRIENDS?! There ARE no friends in Hell, Vincent!
Vox’s screen glitched and he opened his eyes, blood trickled down his face. It had to be blood, that was the only reason his screen would be wet.
“That’ll do it.” He whispered hoarsely. His two worst days in hell and the emotions attached to them would at least make sure he thought twice before going after the hotel.
One year.
One year of staying away and then he’d find the next step.
Besides Alastor had abandoned him for seven, what was one more?
Curious he connected back to his network, sending out a pulse of signal across the city. It was so faint no-one would notice, not even the only other Media Demon in Pride because Vox had never tried to hide himself from Alastor before.
Searching.
Hunting.
Tracking.
There.
A buzz of static, a signal all too familiar and so different from his own, nipping the air around it. Moving toward the hotel on the hill.
No wonder he hadn’t sensed it last time. Vox had been convinced that when Alastor did return it would be to one of his old haunts not sneaking through the backdoor. But there he was and Vox ached to…he didn’t even know what.
Scream? Cry? Laugh?
Zap himself through the electrical currents and demand answers that he would never get?
Let their signals clash and bite into each other as they tore through the city streets with matching manic grins on their faces?
He could do it.
Fuck, he wanted to do it.
ALERT: ALASTOR
Vox instantly winced and pulled out of the network.
“It works,” He sighed and flopped back further into the chair. “One year, I can do that.”
No contact. No schemes. Nothing.
Vox snorted and messaged Ethan to bring him a coffee.
“It’s not like anyone will notice.”