Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A week had passed since Charlie’s brilliant plan for redemption had been announced to all of Hell. Of course.... it didn’t exactly go as planned. The first week had been nothing but laughter. Demons from all across the city had mocked her, others simply ignored her.

Still, Charlie tried to stay positive. That’s what she always did. After all, as long as she believed in herself... everything would work out. Well... at least, she hoped it would.

“Everything starts with a dream.” She told herself in the mirror, brushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. She gave herself a determined grin, even though her reflection looked exhausted.

“Charlie?” Vaggie’s voice cut through her thoughts. Charlie jumped. “Oh! Hey, Vaggie!” She said, her smile returning. “I was just... uh... talking to myself again.”

“I noticed.” Vaggie crossed her arms, her expression softening. “Our meeting about advertising the hotel is starting.” Charlie perked up instantly. “Oh! Advertising! Yes- of- of course! I’m on my way!”

Vaggie sighed, but couldn’t help a small smile as she followed her out of the room. As they descended the stairs, a faint static hum filled the air, like a flickering radio and TV signal. Charlie had been hearing it for a week now. She was getting used to it, though the noise still made her tail twitch sometimes.

Ever since Vox and Alastor had offered to “help” a word that still made Vaggie twitch. The hotel had been buzzing with strange new life. Of all the beings in Hell, those two were the least likely to offer help to anyone, let alone to her. Yet there they were here but Vaggie didn't trust them. Honestly, Charlie couldn't blame her.

“Are you sure it’s safe to keep both of them here?” Vaggie muttered as they descended the last few steps. “Of course it is!” Charlie said brightly, clasping her hands together. “They’re being really helpful! They helped redecorate, brought in new staff-”

“Two staff members.” Vaggie interrupted, unimpressed. “A gambling cat and a cleaning maniac.”

“Husk and Niffty are great! They just need time to settle in!”

“Mm-hmm.” Vaggie’s tone made it clear she didn’t buy a word of it. Before Charlie could defend her new hires, raised voices echoed from the lobby. “I’m telling you, Vincent, your cameras are invasive! We will not be turning the hotel into your own personal reality show!” Alastor’s voice boomed, his usual radio static crackling in the air around him.

“And I’m telling you, Al.” Vox’s voice fizzed back, his screen flickering with irritation. “You want the hotel to thrive? Then you need viewers. You need ratings!”

“We will not plaster that monstrosity of a camera on every wall of this fine establishment!” Alastor said with a grin. Vox sneered. “Cameras get views. That’s how we sell this thing!”

“Sell?!” Alastor’s grin widened unnaturally. “Oh dear, this isn’t a product! It’s an experiment! A performance!” Charlie paused halfway down the stairs. “Are they...?”

“Arguing again?” Vaggie pinched the bridge of her nose. “Yeah. Third time today.” Angel Dust was sprawled across a couch nearby, watching with amusement. “They argue like an old married couple.”

“Because they are married.” Husk grumbled from behind the bar, polishing a glass. Angel snickered. “So, when do we expect the make-up session? I’m putting money on before lunch.”

“Put your wallet away.” Husk said flatly. “They’re not that kind of couple. Thank fucking god…” Angel snorted. “Y’know, if they ever get divorced.” Angel mused. “Would this cause a blackout across all of Hell?”

“Or a murder-suicide....” Husk replied. “Hard to tell with those two.” Charlie, trying to stay optimistic despite the tension, clapped her hands together. “Um! Hi everyone! Sorry to keep you waiting!”

Both overlords froze mid-argument, the static and hum dying out as if someone hit a mute button. “Oh, the princess has graced us with her presence.” Vox said with a smirk. “Maybe she can settle this for us. Modern tech or dusty radio static?”

Alastor looks at him. “Careful, old boy. I do believe she has taste.” Charlie stepped between them, her nervous smile twitching. “So... where do we stand on the whole advertising thing?”

Vox’s grin flickered into place. “Ah, Princess! I was just in the middle of explaining why my state of the art broadcasting system would be the perfect way to put your little redemption project on the map. What do you say?”

“And I.” Alastor interjected with his radio laugh. “I was explaining why your hotel just needs a little spirit to succeed! Instead of the soulless machinery”

“Spirit doesn’t sell ad space, Al.” Vox said, glancing at him for a moment with a hint of irritation in his voice. “Ah, but it does win hearts, my dear Vincent!”

“Win hearts? In Hell?” Vox snorted. “Good luck with that, static boy.” They both glared at each other again. Vaggie groaned. “Can you two not turn every meeting into a pissing contest?” Angel Dust smirked. “Oh, I dunno, I kinda like the tension. Gives the place some spice.”

Charlie raised her hands, trying to calm the room. “Okay, okay, let’s just... breathe, everyone! We’re all here to make this hotel better, right?” There was a moment of silence in the room before both overlords blinked slowly, their shoulders slumping slightly as their smiles relaxed, creating a deceptive sense of calm.

“Of course, my dear!” Alastor said smoothly. “Always happy to help, princess!” Vox added, eyes flickering with something unreadable. “Hey, babe, look on the bright side, at least they’re passionate!” Angel Dust laughed.

“Yeah.” Husk muttered. “That’s what worries me…”

“Okay, enough of this.” Vaggie’s voice sliced through the tension. Before Charlie could protest, Vaggie grabbed her gently but firmly by the arm and pulled her a few feet away from the two bickering overlords.

“Alright.” Vaggie said, sitting down on the couch and motioning for Charlie to do the same. “We all need to get our act together and actually come up with a plan.”

Charlie nodded rapidly, her eyes bright but uncertain. “Yeah! Yeah, totally! A plan! Something that’ll be... well... um...” She waved her hands in the air vaguely, searching for the right words. “Bright! And positive! And maybe sparkly? Something that’ll- uh- bring others to the hotel!” Her voice trailed off, and she rubbed the back of her neck.

“You know… voluntarily.” She was fidgeting with a lock of her hair. There was a long pause. Vox let out a small snort of laughter, elbowing Alastor playfully. “Sounds like something made for television.” He teased, his screen flickering with static hearts.

Alastor’s smile didn’t waver, but the lights in the room dimmed almost imperceptibly. “Oh, n-now wait a sec!” Charlie blurted, waving her hands nervously between them. “That doesn’t mean radio won’t be useful! I’m sure plenty of sinners still listen to it! It’s... uh... vintage!”

Alastor tilted his head. His red eyes gleamed faintly. “Vintage.... how charming.”

“Okay! Okay! Let’s... maybe use both?” She said, her voice cracking slightly. “Maybe.... TV and radio? I mean, we can use one now and the other later!” Alastor’s grin twitched ever so slightly, his eyes flickering with something that wasn’t quite anger but wasn’t pleasant either.

“But, um... yeah... maybe... maybe Vox has a point? TV could help us reach more sinners, at least for now…” Charlie added softly. For a long moment, Alastor said nothing. Then Alastor’s shadow stretched across the floor, his voice lowering to a smooth, hollow murmur. “Fine.” He said finally. “If that’s what you wish, my dear.”

Before anyone could respond, his body dissolved into black static, vanishing. Charlie gasped. “Wait- Alastor! I didn’t mean- ” Charlie started, reaching out toward the empty space. Vox chuckled quietly, straightening his suit. “Easy there, Your Highness. Al just needs a moment to sulk in his own static. He’s dramatic like that.”

Charlie frowned faintly. “He seemed... upset…”

“Upset? Nah.” Vox’s grin widened. He turned toward Charlie, his eyes flickering like a neon sign. “So, Princess, where do we start? TV, media push, press blitz? I can have this place trending across Hell by lunchtime!”

Charlie opened her mouth to answer, but then glanced at the clock, and her face instantly went pale. “Oh- shit! I have a meeting with Adam today!” Vaggie froze mid-eye roll. “Wait, what? Today?”

“Yeah, yeah, I- uh- forgot until right now! He’s expecting me in, like, twenty minutes!” Charlie said, pacing frantically. “Vaggie, what do I do?!”

“Deep breaths.” Vaggie said, standing up and putting a hand on her shoulder. “Go. I’ll handle things here. Just... don’t let him get under your skin, okay?” Charlie blinked, then threw her arms around her girlfriend. “You’re the best! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

And before Vaggie could respond, Charlie darted out the door, the sound of her hurried footsteps fading down the hallway. Vaggie stood there for a moment, watching after her with a small, bittersweet smile. “Take care, Charlie....” She murmured. Her voice dropped, almost too quiet to hear. “Adam isn’t exactly easy to talk to…”

Then, shaking off the worry, she turned sharply toward Vox. “Alright, TV-face.” She said, crossing her arms. “What’s the plan?” But Vox wasn’t even looking at her. He seemed distracted, gazing off into nothing.

“Hey! Vox!” Vaggie barked. He blinked, his grin returning as he turned toward her lazily. “Hmm? Oh, right, the plan.” He snapped his fingers. A small camera materialized in Vaggie's hand. Vaggie raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly am I supposed to do with this?”

“Be creative!” Vox said, smirking as he turned away. “You strike me as the type who could handle a little improvisation.” Before she could give him a piece of her mind, Vox gave her a mock salute. “Don’t wait up. I got some editing to do.”

“Hey- wait! Where the hell are you going?!” But before she could finish, Vox’s form glitched, crackled, and disappeared in a burst of static. “Ugh.... fuck.” Vaggie muttered, dragging a hand down her face.

The room was dim, the red walls glowed faintly in the low light, reflecting off the polished surface of a grand old radio that hummed in the corner. Alastor sat on a crimson velvet couch, one leg crossed neatly over the other, listening to the soft static drifting through the air.

He didn’t turn when the air behind him shimmered with electronic static, a low buzz announcing the arrival of someone else. “Still sulking, mon vieux?” Came a familiar, teasing voice.

Vox materialized behind the couch, holding a glass of liquor in one hand and a bouquet of deep red roses in the other. The glow from his screen-face flickered gently across the walls, casting Alastor’s silhouette in electric blue.

Without waiting for an invitation, he leaned forward and placed both gifts on the small table beside Alastor. “Sazerac and flowers for my mon chéri.” He said smoothly, offering the bouquet. Alastor let out a light, almost melodic chuckle. “Good heavens, your French is still atrocious after all these years.”

“Oh, bite me.” Vox shot back with a smirk, his screen flickering with a cartoon heart. “Tempting, but I prefer my meals less... electrified.” Alastor’s grin widened as he examined the flowers. “Still, it’s a charming gesture. You always did know how to make an entrance, Vincent.”

Vox smirked. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. And before you get all prickly, the princess didn’t mean to bruise your ego earlier. Don’t take it out on me.” Alastor’s red eyes glinted dangerously. “Careful, Vincent. You’re assuming I have pride left to wound.”

Vox only grinned. “Oh, please. Your ego could survive the apocalypse.” Alastor sighed before placing the bouquet down on the table. “You always did know how to find the right wavelength to soothe me.” He said softly.

Vox leaned casually against the back of the couch, watching him. “You sure you’re okay, Al?” Alastor’s ear twitched, but he didn’t look up. “Why do you ask?”

Vox’s tone softened, though the static in his voice betrayed unease. “You’ve been shorting out lately.... I can hear it. Little crackles in your tone like old wiring ready to break in any moment.” He hesitated. “You... need new light tubes? Circuits? Did something burn out?”

That made Alastor look up at him, his crimson eyes narrowing in quiet amusement. “Don’t look at me like that.” Vox muttered. “I’m just saying, I’d rather ask now than find you short-circuited later.” The faint hum of the radio deepened. Alastor looked away.

Not many knew this. Most demons thought Alastor’s “radio” motif was purely aesthetic, a nickname for his style and powers. Only a handful, Vox included, knew the truth.

Alastor, just like Vox, his essence was bound to the technology of his time (quite literally) into the hum of machinery and static. Not as advanced or modern as Vox’s circuitry, but still, part of him ran on something beyond blood and flesh.

But while Vox had embraced it, evolving with some upgrades, Alastor clung to the past. “I’m fine, Vincent.” Alastor said finally, voice low and calm. “You worry too much.” Vox huffed, unconvinced, but didn’t push. He tapped his metal-tipped finger against the couch arm, static popping faintly under his touch.

“You know... You still haven’t told me where you disappeared to for seven years.” He sat down beside Alastor, the couch creaking under the shift in weight. The radio’s tune fizzled with a burst of static. “Vincent, please....” Alastor said wearily.

“I’m just worried.” Vox pressed, his tone gentle but firm. “Was it Rosie again? She’s been quiet for a while, but I know how she can-” Alastor’s hand stilled mid-motion. The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees.

Vox immediately noticed the tension. “Al... are you not telling me because you don’t want to? Or because you... can’t?” Alastor slowly raised his glass, took a small sip, and let the silence stretch before answering. “I’ll tell you when I can, Vincent.”

Vox nodded slowly, leaning back into the couch beside him. “You know... Rosie hasn’t bothered you in years. I thought she finally got bored of tormenting her favorite-”

Alastor’s smile returned, thin and sharp. “I don’t wish to discuss her.” He said curtly. Then, before Vox could reply, he added. “Instead, why don’t you tell me what you’ve been doing during my little absence?”

Vox rolled his eyes, but the tension eased slightly. “Oh, you know me, same old nonsense. Velvette’s still a pain in the circuits, but I finally got her to sell me her soul.” Alastor raised a brow, amused. “Convince her? Or did you mean blackmail?” Vox huffed. “Manipulate, if you want to get technical.”

“Ah, such honesty! How refreshing.” Alastor said with a chuckle. Vox rolled his eyes, smirking. “Fine. I kicked her ass, made her desperate, and she signed. Happy?”

“Ecstatic.”

“But she’s been surprisingly useful.” Vox continued, leaning back with a sigh. “Not as much dead weight as I thought.”

“And Valentino?” Alastor asked casually, though there was a flicker of disgust in his smile. Vox groaned, his screen flashing static. “Ugh, don’t even start. That creep’s still trying to crawl into every contract he can find. Offered me another ‘partnership’ last month.”

Alastor’s grin widened. “And?”

“And I told him to piss off.” Vox tone laced with disgust. “He doesn’t understand the concept of ‘no.’ Persistent little parasite.”

“Persistent... or pathetic?” Alastor mused, chuckling darkly. “There’s a fine line.”

“Both.” Vox muttered, staring at the ceiling. “Mostly pathetic.” Alastor chuckled. Vox grinned, letting his hand rest behind Alastor on the couch. For a long while, the only sound in the room was the gentle hum of static and the quiet crackle of the radio.

Vox quietly watched the way Alastor’s fingers traced the edges of the roses. The demon’s expression was distant. Then Alastor shifted ever so slightly, his shoulder brushing against Vox’s.

Vox didn’t speak at first. He just studied the movement, the slight turn of Alastor’s shoulder, the subtle lean as if the Radio Demon was too proud to admit he wanted comfort. Careful not to break the moment, Vox reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll find a way to free you, Al...” Vox said softly. His usual cocky lilt was gone. “I promise.” He leaned forward just a little, resting his head against Alastor’s temple. Alastor didn’t move, but his hand stilled over the petals.

“Vincent...” Alastor finally murmured, his tone somewhere between weary and amused. “You do love to make promises, don’t you?”

“Only the ones I plan to keep.” Vox replied, a flicker of light running across his screen as if it were trying to mimic an Alastor smile. Finally, Vox straightened, stretching slightly, his humor returning. “Alright, enough of this gloomy crap. How about we go downstairs and give little Miss Vaggie a heart attack?”

Alastor raised an eyebrow. “And why would we want to do that?”

“Because.” Vox said, his grin returning full force. “She’s trying to film a commercial for the hotel, and judging by the noise I’m picking up, it’s... horrific.” He laughed, a distorted crackle in his voice. “Come on, it’ll be fun. We’ll make it look good for once.”

Alastor’s smile widened, sharp and theatrical again.“My dear Vincent, you know I can’t resist a good performance. But... ” He stood, straightening his coat. “We do it in my style.” Vox smirked. “Oh, darling, I wouldn’t dream of denying you that.”

He extended a hand toward Alastor with exaggerated grace. “Shall we?” Alastor chuckled, rich radio laugh echoing faintly as he took the offered hand. “Why, Vincent, such manners! I might mistake you for a gentleman.”

“Don’t push your luck.” Vox teased, leaning down to press a kiss to Alastor’s knuckles. Alastor’s grin softened. “Ever the romantic, aren’t you, Vincent?”

“Only with you, sweetheart.” Vox’s tone was playful, but his eyes flickered with something genuine. For a moment, their eyes met. Then, in perfect synchrony, the lights in the room began to flicker.

“Ready?” Vox asked, his grin flashing across his screen. “Always.” The hum grew louder, surrounding them. In a blink, their forms dissolved, Alastor fading into the hiss of radio noise, Vox vanishing in a cascade of light blue light.

All that remained was the faint echo of laughter, blending into the static as the room fell silent once more.

Chapter Text

Vox sat slouched on the couch in the hotel lobby, one leg crossed over the other, scrolling lazily through his messages. Contracts, sponsorship offer, endless “urgent” updates from VoxTech’s board. He swiped them away with a sigh. “Future me can deal with that.” He muttered. He took a slow sip from his coffee, savoring the bitter heat, when a hesitant voice broke the quiet.

“Um.... hey, Vox?” He looked up to see Charlie standing a few feet away, twisting her fingers nervously. “Princess.” He greeted casually, still scrolling. “What’s up?” Charlie twisted her hands together nervously, glancing toward the window. “Sooo... maybe you could, um... tell Alastor that Sir Pentious has had… enough?”

That got his attention. He looked up from his phone screen. “Enough of what?” Charlie pointed toward the front doors. Through the massive hole in the wall, Vox could see Alastor outside, laughing maniacally while toying with Sir Pentious’s massive airship.

The ship swerved and spun helplessly in the air, clearly under Alastor’s control, and Sir Pentious’s shrill voice echoed from inside the cabin. Charlie winced. “Yeah.... that.” Vox smirked behind his coffee cup. “Nah. Let him have his fun. He’s been behaving for almost two days. I call that progress!”

“But-”

Vox waved her off. “Relax. He'll get bored soon enough.” As if on cue, the sound of someone smashing into the courtyard filled the air. Charlie gasped, bolting for the door. Vox didn't even flinch. He took another sip, then pointed lazily toward the outside. “See? Told you, problem solved.”

He leaned back against the couch, finally letting the smile fade from his face as he stared up at the ceiling.

It had been almost two weeks. Two weeks since Alastor and he came here to help Charlie with her little hotel. Two weeks since the Radio Demon had stepped back into Hell’s spotlight and into Vox’s life again.

Vox closed his eyes for a moment, letting the present fade away for a moment. And before he realized it, he was drifting back to that day.

It had been the day after the Extermination, Hell’s most chaotic holiday.

The city still smoked from Heaven’s “cleanup” broken streets, smoldering districts, and thousands of demons clawing for power over whatever scraps were left. Every screen in Pentagram City blared news coverage, casualty lists, destroyed territories, body counts climbing higher by the minute.

For most, it was a time to mourn or celebrate. For Vox, it was just business. “Ratings through the roof.” He’d said to himself that morning, swirling a glass of black coffee while staring at his network’s headlines.

The people wanted reassurance, entertainment, a distraction, and Vox delivered. He stood before his wall of screens in his office tower, every monitor reflecting back his own neon grin. His phone was buzzing nonstop.

He was halfway through skimming his morning briefings when Velvette appeared in the doorway, heels clicking sharply against the floor. “Ah, there you are.” Velvette strolled into the room, tablet in one hand, a forced smile plastered across her lips. Even now, with her soul under his ownership, she still radiated attitude.

“Ah, Velvette!” Vox said brightly without turning around. “How’s my favorite influencer slash minion doing this fine, hellish morning?” Her smile twitched. She still wasn’t used to being on his leash.

“I finished the task you gave me.” She said, smoothing her hair. “And before you start, yes it’s done perfectly. My models are already prepping for the show tonight, so unless you need-”

“Yes, yes, you may go be fabulous.” He waved her off with a flick of his wrist. Her eye twitched, but she said nothing. She turned on her heel and left, muttering something under her breath. “You’re lucky I’m contractually bound not to throw my coffee at you.”

As she stormed off, Vox chuckled softly to himself. His assistant immediately rushed over with a clipboard. “Good morning, sir! I have your schedule-”

“Skip the pleasantries.” Vox said smoothly, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Just tell me how doomed I am today.” The assistant blinked nervously. “Uh- yes, sir- Of course, sir! You have a conference with the news anchors in twenty minutes, a product reveal at noon- Oh! and m- Mr Valentino wanted a business dinner at-”

“Cancel that one.” Vox interrupted immediately. “I’d rather hang myself on the ceiling and set myself on fire.” The assistant hesitated. “Of course, sir.” As they walked through the mirrored halls of VoxTech Tower, dozens of screens displayed the latest headlines.

His attention drifted toward one of the side monitors, where a news broadcast flickered. “Breaking: Princess Charlie Morningstar to make a statement today on the latest extermination-” Vox snorted and kept walking. “Lucifer’s kid playing politics? Adorable.”

He turned to leave, but something stopped him, a faint sound cutting through the constant buzz of electricity. From the corner of the office, an old radio sat on a side table.

Vox froze.

“Um... sir?” His assistant said uncertainly. The radio crackled again, louder this time. Faint, broken laughter echoed through the static. Every wire in Vox’s body went cold and hot on the same time. The assistant stepped forward cautiously. “Sir? Should I-”

Without another word, he turned sharply to his assistant. “Cancel everything.”

“S- sir?”

“All of it.” His voice dropped an octave, cold and precise. “No meetings. No calls. Nothing.”

“But, Mr. Vox, you have-”

“I said cancel it.”

The assistant blinked. “But-” Before he could finish, Vox vanished, the room erupting in a burst of blue electricity and static that shorted out every screen in the tower for a second.

There were reasons Vox kept old radios scattered throughout his tower, tucked into offices, corridors, and even the break rooms. They weren’t just for décor, nor his affection for vintage aesthetics.

No, those radios were there for Alastor. The Radio Demon had always preferred the classics. He could, of course, communicate through newer systems, even VoxTech if he wanted but that wasn't his way.

And Vox despite his love for modernity and neon screens had indulged him. Every room in his tower had one of those old fashioned radios. Just in case Alastor ever wanted to talk.

But for seven years, the airwaves had been silent.

Seven years of waiting.

Alastor had always vanished for stretches of time, it was in his nature. But seven years was too long, even for a creature as unpredictable as him. At first, Vox had convinced himself that Al was simply wandering, making chaos somewhere else.

But as the months turned to the first year, Vox told himself not to worry. The second year, he tried to distract himself with work, business, new technology. By the fourth, he stopped counting. By the seventh.…

And yet, he kept the radios running. Every single one, just in case.

So when that one faint crackle whispered through the speakers in his tower, that half-laugh, half-static sound that only one demon in all creation could make it sound so intimidated and beautiful at the same time. Vox’s circuits nearly shorted out.

Now, Vox’s boots clicked sharply against the cracked pavement as he strode toward a small house on the edge of Pentagram City. The old hideout. Their “home” if one could call it that. A lonely silhouette against the reddish smog, with peeling paint and ivy curling around windows.

Vox paused at the door. His circuits buzzed with anxious energy. “I swear.” He muttered, voice low. “If this is some kind of sick joke....” He pushed the door open.

Inside, the air smelled faintly of dust and old wood polish. The wallpaper looked just as it had years ago. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked steadily, someone had been winding it. “Niffty been keeping up her chores.” Vox murmured to himself.

Vox had barely set foot inside it in years. Only Niffty had been allowed to go in from time to time to keep this place from falling apart. He closed the door behind him gently, his voice breaking the silence. “Al?”

No answer.

He stepped into the living room, his reflection flickering faintly on the old tube television against the wall. “If you’re here, this isn’t funny. I-”

“Did you miss me, my dear?” The voice came from behind him, smooth, melodious, and unmistakably teasing. Vox froze and slowly turned. Alastor stood there, framed by the kitchen doorway, holding a bouquet of blue flowers.

“Yes, yes, I know.” Alastor began with a chuckle, adjusting his bowtie. “Not the grandest of gestures, but! I was in a rush, you see-” For a moment, Vox just stared, processing the sight in front of him.

“Alastor...?” He said quietly, as if testing whether the image would dissolve if he spoke too loudly. Alastor’s grin softened slightly as he set the flowers down on the dresser. “Yes, Vincent. It’s me.” He spread his arms just slightly, like a performer waiting for applause. “Who else could it possibly be?”

That was all Vox needed. He closed the distance in two strides and pulled Alastor into a tight embrace, his arms locking around him as if afraid he’d vanish again. “Alastor....” His voice came out half-broken, half-laughing.

For a moment, Alastor went rigid, his laughter caught in his throat. Then, slowly, his arms wrapped around Vox’s back. Vox could feel the familiar twitch of Alastor’s deer-like ears brushing against his screen, a sound that made him laugh softly. “Still ticklish, huh?”

Vox buried his face against his shoulder, the faint hum of Alastor’s frequency vibrating through his chest. His screen flickered faintly, his circuits running hotter than usual. “Gosh.” Alastor chuckled softly, ears twitching as one brushed against the edge of Vox’s display again. “You’re as warm as ever.”

Vox laughed shakily. “And you still sound like a damn phonograph.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, my dear.” But then, the warmth gave way to a jolt of realization. Vox pulled back slightly, his hands gripping Alastor’s shoulders. “You... you bastard.” He whispered, his voice shaking just enough to betray him.

“Where the fuck were you, Al!?” The words came out raw, almost desperate. “Do you have any idea what it’s been like? Seven years, no word! I tore half of Pentagram City apart looking for you! I thought-”

His voice broke.

Alastor simply raised a hand and rested it gently against Vox’s face. The touch was grounding. “Oh, Vincent.” He murmured. “I know my absence must have... upset you.”

“Upset?!” Vox snapped, eyes flickering static blue and red. “Try devastated. I thought you were dead, or worse! You-” Alastor’s fingers brushed the edge of Vox’s faceplate, tracing the faint crack he’d gotten years ago. “You’ve held up rather well, I must say. Though I suppose a little stress gives you character.”

“Don’t deflect.” Vox said, narrowing his eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Alastor replied smoothly. “I assure you, my dear, I am perfectly fine.... Mostly.”

“Mostly?” Vox repeated, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean-” But Alastor only smiled wider, that radio-static grin returning. “Let’s not dwell on the unpleasant, hmm? I’m home now, aren’t I?” Alastor chuckled softly. “You must have been worried sick about me.”

“More than you think.” Vox muttered, his anger melting into relief. Alastor’s hand slid to his shoulder, his grin softening. “Then I must apologize, my dear. I didn’t mean to cause such distress.” He tilted his head, playfully now. “How about I make it up to you? Dinner, perhaps? My treat!”

Vox smirked faintly and leaned his forehead against Alastor’s. “I missed you, Al.” Alastor’s grin faltered just a little. “And I... me too… Vincent.”

Vox snapped out of his drifting thoughts as the boom shook the front of the hotel. Vox blinked once, twice, then sighed. He set his half-empty cup of coffee on the table. “Well...” He muttered, standing up and brushing imaginary dust off his sleeves. “That’s one way to start the morning broadcast.”

Another distant crash sounded as Sir Pentious hit someone’s rooftop several blocks away. Vox stretched his back and stepped outside, just in time to see Alastor cane in hand, frowning down at it as if someone personally offended him. “Tsk. Seems I’ll need to visit the tailor.”

“I see you had a good time, dear!” Vox called out as he approached, voice rich with amusement. Alastor turned his head slightly. “Oh, Vincent! You just missed the most entertaining display of pitiable behavior I've seen all week!”

As Alastor dusted himself off, Vox’s eyes caught the faint tear along the bottom of his crimson coat, a single thread hung loose. “Well then, my murderous darling.” Vox said smoothly. “Would you care for an escort to the tailor?”

Alastor looped his arm around Vox’s with theatrical flair. “Why, Vincent, I would be absolutely delighted! And afterward, I shall finally take you to the dinner I promised you!” Before Vox could respond, a very tired and angry voice shouted behind them.

“ALASTOR! VOX! Are you kidding me right now?!” They both turned, almost in sync, to see Vaggie standing at the entrance. “We need your help! We’re in the middle of- do NOT walk away from me!”

But the two overlords were already strolling down the walkway, arm in arm, perfectly ignoring everything behind them. Vox even waved lazily over his shoulder. “You all can survive a couple of hours without us!”

Vaggie blinked, exasperated. “You two- I- what- Ugh!”

Chapter Text

Vox never planned to share the spotlight.

In life, he had always believed the world owed him admiration. That the camera lens should turn only for him, that audiences should cling to every word he spoke as though they were the gospel truth.

The hunger for attention had been there long before his transformation into the overlord he was now. It had simmered under his skin during those early human years. And the moment that his belief that only he can own all the spotlight came into action. The moment he killed his first rival, he realized how intoxicating that feeling truly was.

He still remembers that day.

It was midweek, a dragging wednesday. Vox had just finished the weather forecast. He had delivered it as always, with that cute smile and the charisma nobody appreciated nearly enough.

The camera light clicked off as the camera shifted to the newsroom desk. The man who sat there- Was his name Jeremy? No- Jeremy was the talk show idiot. Richard? Thomas? Vox can’t remember anymore.

He doesn’t care to.

So let's stick to Thomas for now. Thomas always sat beside that woman whose name was? Nancy? Let's say her name was Nancy. The two of them would always exchange those saccharine little looks, nodding to each other like they were some high school lovebirds.

They made Vox’s teeth grind.

Vox isn't even sure why he finally snapped that day. All he remembers is the way the man sat there smugly, winking at Nancy, basking in attention he hadn’t earned.

“Thank you, Vincent, for that lovely forecast.” Thomas quipped, dripping with sarcasm, rolling his eyes just subtly enough to elicit a small laugh from the crew. Vox felt his eye twitch, they were laughing at him.

He remembered standing there, every nerve burning with humiliation. He remembered thinking. “Who do you think you are?”

He remembers following Thomas out of the building. The man didn't even notice Vox approaching. Didn't even imagine someone like Vincent, little, polite innocent Vincent could be dangerous.

“Vince? What are you-”

His hands didn't even shake. Vox was amazed by that, almost proud. One quick slice, one ragged gasp, and suddenly the world got a little quieter. The first kill had been sloppy, Vox fully admits this. Blood everywhere, a mess he struggled to clean, but luck favored him. He dumped the body in the dumpster and wiped his hands clean.

The next day, the studio was in chaos.

“Where’s Thomas?”

“He’s not answering his phone!”

“Has anyone checked his apartment?”

Nancy looked pale and distraught. She kept dialing his number over and over, her hands trembling. Vox almost pitied her.... almost.

When the panic reached its peak, Vox had stepped forward. “Well... If no one is prepared, I can fill in for the main news today.” He offered with a gentle smile. And just like that, he was called a savior. The only one ready to keep the show running.

He was behind the desk, the place he always knew should be his. By the end of his first broadcast, Vox could feel the audience warming to him, the way they hung on his cadence, the confidence in his gaze, the elegance in his posture.

Nancy didn’t last long. The reports of Thomas’s disappearance cracked whatever was left of her resolve. Her breakdown was swift and messy, and within two weeks, she was gone from the studio doors and never returned.

For a while, he had everything he wanted.

Until someone else dared to shine brighter.

Jeremy, that irritating, loudmouthed talk show man with his cheap charisma and popularity. Viewers loved him even though his show was low level entertainment at best.

He stole Vox’s spotlight.

It didn’t take long before the screws in the studio’s ceiling began to mysteriously loosen. Vox remembered the moment perfectly. Jeremy rehearsing his script, pacing under the heavy stage light above him, then crack.

The spotlight crashed down, crushing Jeremy instantly.

“Tragic accident.” They called it.

“That poor man.” Others whispered.

“Just terrible luck…”

And Vox, standing at the edge of the set, knew he had climbed another rung of the ladder, one he deserved far more than Jeremy ever did.

“Vincent?”

Vox blinked out of his thoughts at the familiar voice. He hadn’t even realized he’d been staring. “You’re looking at me again.” Alastor said, cutting cleanly into his steak before popping another bite into his mouth. His grin widened. “And quite intensely, I might add.”

Vox straightened. “Oh! Sorry.” He said with a nervous laugh. “I must’ve gotten lost in your beauty again.” Alastor hummed playfully. “Ah, showering me with compliments again, are we? You do love to butter me up.”

“Heh, well...” Vox swirled the wine in his glass, letting the rich red tint catch his neon glow. “Someone has to.” He took a slow sip. Around them, a few other sinners were dining nearby, but wisely kept their eyes on their plates instead of on two powerful overlords having a very intimate dinner conversation.

“I see the tailor fixed your coat well.” Vox said as he finished his meal and set down the fork. “Of course!” Alastor replied, dabbing elegantly at his mouth with a napkin. “Though perhaps it would’ve taken even less time had a certain someone not hovered behind me all the time.”

Vox scoffed. “I was supervising.”

“You were pacing holes in the carpet.” Alastor corrected, folding the napkin neatly. “You truly couldn’t wait outside for five minutes?”

“I just wanted to make sure they didn’t ruin your coat.” Vox huffed before taking another sip of wine, leaning closer. “Besides... you’d look good in a corset... Just saying.” Alastor froze only for a heartbeat before letting out a sudden, ringing laugh. “Oh, Vincent, you are ever so modest.” He rose gracefully from his chair. “Well! It’s time we get going, don’t you think?”

“Of course.” Vox rose as well and gallantly offered his arm. Alastor accepted and slipped a few bills to the waiter before the two stepped out into the streets.

For a little while, Vox wasn’t paying attention to anything except the warm pressure of Alastor’s arm linked with his. The world could have been burning, and he wouldn’t have noticed. But slowly the stares began to creep in around the edges of his awareness.

Sinners were watching them.

Not unusual by itself, Vox was used to eyes, he was feeding on them after all. But this was different… Some demons lifted their phones as though to snap pictures, only for the screens to glitch violently when Alastor entered the frame. Sparks flew, one phone outright exploded.

“Really?” Vox muttered irritably under his breath. “Who in their right mind tries to photograph a radio demon? Has everyone forgotten how physics works around-”

Whispers spread behind them.

“Does anyone know who that is walking with Overlord Vox?”

“I’ve never seen him before.”

“I heard rumors... but that can’t be him, right?”

Vox froze mid-step. Oh... Right, seven years.

Seven years was nothing in Hell, but long enough for a new, clueless generation of sinners to crawl out of the gutter with no idea whose presence they were disrespecting.

“I see you noticed that too.” Alastor said, tone light, but with a faint static buzz beneath it. Vox adjusted his suit, uncomfortable. “Hm? Oh. Yes- honestly, I’m shocked at how quickly-” Vox’s phone buzzed in his pocket, interrupting him. “Oh, for- give me a moment.” Vox answered sharply. “This better be important.”

“Oh Voooooxy~” A sickeningly familiar voice purred through the speaker. “It’s so good to hear your voice again~ I knooow you’re trying to ignore me, but listen-” Vox recoiled. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Valentino kept talking. “Sugar, c’mon. We both know you hate being alone, and a handsome man like you should-” Vox hung up immediately. “How the hell did that creep get my number?” He snapped, shoving the phone into his pocket.

He cleared his throat quickly and tried to pretend the whole thing hadn’t happened. “A-Anyway, darling, what were you saying?” He asked, turning back to Alastor.

Alastor gave him a small, sly look. “Yes, my dear Vincent. I was merely noting how... quiet my name has become.” He glanced around, eyes gleaming faintly. “Do you think we should do something about it?”

Vox blinked then grinned, a slow spark igniting in his eyes. “Oh-OH! Right! We absolutely should!” His voice rose in excitement. “We should announce your return to the entire city!” Before the crowd could blink, Vox grabbed Alastor’s hand. A crackle of electricity and a hum of radio static filled the air.

And in the next instant, the two vanished, reappearing within the gleaming halls of VoxTech Tower, screens flickering in anticipation. Alastor smiled, Vox smiled back.

[Warning, do me a favor and skip this part of the song, I don't know why I wrote it and it's so awful that AAAA, I WROTE THIS WHEN I HAD A FEVER, please spare yourselves the cringe 💀]

Vox:

Welcome home!

I hope you know

That nothing's been the same since you left town.

Come on, sit down!

Say hello

To our status quo

Everyone sees that the dawn’s begun

Turn the TV on!

(Camera speeds. Rolling in 3... 2...)

(Welcome to our show!)

Vox:

Top of the hour and we’re celebrating someone special

Who has been spotted cavorting around town

(Welcome to our show)

After a seven year absence

Did anybody spot him?

(Welcome to our show)

Did anybody notice?

Well I sure did-

More on tonight’s program!

Yes, the Radio Demon is back in town,

My husband’s home safe and sound-

But what does that mean for your family?

Well luckily, I’ve got good news

He’s brilliant, impossible

Charming and unstoppable

Not to sound alarming-

But he is a demon full of power!

Vox:

You can take that as gospel

His ratings? Truly unstoppable

He’s analog, but still incredible

Give him all your time of day

Listen to each word he’ll say

Sure, he took a long vacay

But he came back to stay!

While he lived through radio

I flourished on the video

But together? Oh, we’re quite the perfect pair!

Hell’s been quieter since he split...

Where’s he been?

Who cares? He’s here!

Alastor:

Salutations! Grand to be back on the air.

Yes, I know it’s been a while since someone with a more classic style

Graced Hell with a broadcast

Sinners rejoice!

Vox:

What a charming voice~

Alastor:

Instead of our clout-chasing, flashy little video podcast-

Vox:

Oh come on!

Alastor:

Is my dear Vox feeling secure? Of course, he is!

Chasing trends from here to there

Switching forms to keep things burning?

Vox:

Ignore his teasing!

Alastor:

Every day he crafts a new idea-

Vox:

You’re looking at the future!

But you’re the past that makes it all last.

Alastor:

Is Vox as strong as he claims to be?

Well yes, when he stands with me.

He'd be lonely without his charming Radio host~

Vox:

Oh please-

Alastor:

And here's the sugar on the cream

He once asked me to join his team…

Vox:

Hold on-

Alastor:

I said “yes” and now he’s giddy, isn't that sweet? [Alastor showing his marriage ring]

Vox:

You sentimental prick

I wasn’t ready for that!

Alastor:

Oh dear, the TV is buffering~

Vox:

I don't yoo-oo-ou, you little-!

Alastor:

I’m afraid you’ve melted your own signal

Alastor:

Let’s begin...

I’ll make you glad

I came back home

Turn us on

Now we’re one

Our status quo

Is brighter than the sun

Oh, this will be fun!

Vox:

Fffffinally!

[End of the song]

Vox lay sprawled across the floor, static fizzing off his body as his systems rebooted one by one. His screen flickered red, green, blue, then finally stabilized into his usual neon glow.

Alastor stood above him, cane lightly resting against his shoulder, head tilted with amused concern. “My, my….” He hummed, leaning down just enough for his grin to fill Vox’s recovering vision. “I hope I didn’t melt your circuits that badly. I’d hate to be responsible for voiding your warranty.” He extended a hand.

Vox grabbed it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. “Haha. Very funny, Al.” Vox said, brushing dust off his suit, though his hands shook just slightly from the overload. “I had everything under control.”

Alastor gave him an unimpressed stare. “Oh, absolutely. Your very dignified collapse on the last note spoke volumes, darling.” Vox made a choking noise. “I- THAT was a stylistic choice. A dramatic dip! A flourish!”

Alastor raised a single brow. “A flourish that involved you faceplanting onto the studio tiles and city blackout.” Vox’s screen went static light blue. “Shut up.” Alastor chuckled, placing a gentle hand on Vox’s shoulder, just enough to make Vox’s screen glitch again. “You’re adorable when you’re embarrassed.”

“I’m not embarrassed.” Vox lied immediately, coughing. “I simply... had a brief power surge.”

“Hmm. If that’s what you wish to call it.” Alastor teased, eyes glinting. Vox tried to redirect before Alastor could roast him further. “A-Anyway...” He cleared his throat. “Don’t you think it’s time we checked in on how our hotel project is going?”

Alastor’s grin widened. “Why yes, Vincent! It has been a few hours, hasn’t it?” He clasped his hands dramatically. “Oh, how utterly irresponsible of us. Imagine the headlines!” Vox snorted. “Please, they should be honored we left them unsupervised at all.”

As the two walked toward the exit, Alastor twirled his cane. “Lead the way, my dear!”