[Vox won. He fucking did it! He had his fancy party to celebrate his uprising against Heaven, all the Overlords (except Zestial and Rosie) showed up, the Princess and her apologists tried some stupid little sabotage plan that failed miserably... And then she admitted defeat, live on camera for all of Hell to see.
She didn't proclaim Vox to be the strongest Sinner in Hell, she proclaimed him to be the number one Sinner in Hell. It still encompassed Vox's victory just fine, so he found it acceptable, not realizing the very specific wording of it all had thrown a wrench into Alastor's plans. He would've killed Charlie right then and there, but he'd made a deal not to hurt her or whatever, so he had some of his hypnotized goons carry her away to be imprisoned in the depths of Vee Tower. What wasn't part of the deal was not hurting literally anyone else, so that was what he did. He had all the interlopers in Vee Tower killed. Then he had the princess's girlfriend killed. A couple of angels showed up to try and save the younger of the two seraphim, so he'd blasted them with the Might of Lilith. As a final blow, he threatened to kill Emily, still restrained, and that was when Heaven caved. Now without their Exorcist leaders and at risk of losing even more of their own, they'd bowed their heads in defeat before him.
He'd been tempted to kill Angel Dust too, but Val wouldn't let him. Annoying, but fair was fair. Vox still had his prisoner, so Val should be allowed the same privilege, if only to keep the man pacified. Now the imprisoned princess, the useless whore and Alastor were the only ones left standing of that failed redemption project, all three of them in chains under Vox's new rule. ...Oh, and Lucifer, but who even cared about that guy? Vox would keep using him as the tool he was whenever needed.
Either way, the celebration party in Hell went on for five straight days. Heaven lost and Vox won. It's the dawn of a new era.
Tomorrow's the day he'll go up to Heaven to make it official. Turns out, redemption wasn't needed for a sinner to walk through those golden streets. Brute force does the job just fine. He gets to rule above the highest ranks of the angels, above even the Speaker of God, and that's that. It also means he has one last night of not-quite-God-yet to go through, which means he's going to rub it in Alastor's face. Again. He's rubbed it in plenty over the past few days, but he can't get enough of it. It's addictive.
The radio demon had been left behind in Vox's office while he was out running errands, still tied to the chair and with Shok.wav keeping an eye on him. At least the muzzle's gone. It was likely silent enough, but that silence is broken the moment Vox bursts through the door. He's wearing a pristine white suit, similar to the one he wore during the rally. There's a short cape included now- a mantle with fur, white on the outside but with light blue lining on the inside. And a matching white hat, of course.]
[ Alastor is, above all else, tired. It's an exhaustion like anything he's ever felt, one that seeps down to his very bones and bring even his thoughts to a crawl. It's unfamiliar, inexplicable, because even at his lowest he had always been quite sharp. He never slowed down, but instead would pivot from one thing to another. He needs to do that now more than ever, but it's been difficult.
More than a century of planning and plotting, being looked down on, crawling through the dirt and choking down every last emotion, and what should a bit more be now? But he's struggling to come up with anything.
Hell accomplished nothing. Heaven accomplished nothing. Vox and Charlie both proved to be useless - no, more than that. Worse than useless. Worse, because the pair of them might as well have cut off his right arm. He feels like he's lost a limb, and he has for days now, because unlike other Overlords he only had two souls in his care - the only two people that he could trust, that he'd kept under his care for decades, suddenly snapped off. The rest he could accept, but those were his. Those were his souls to do what he pleased with and no one else's, and they shouldn't have been there to begin with. If they couldn't even do an infiltration right, they should've just stayed back and let Alastor handle it instead of stupidly and blindly rushing in. And as for Vox, well -
It should have been him. He should have been the one who died, along with his partners. Charlie should have done her job right, Vox should have died, and he should finally be living instead of just surviving. But they're all just useless, and Alastor's biggest mistake was thinking even one person could act without him. And now this fucking moron was given the keys to Heaven, like that wasn't going to be one more disaster. One more mess him him to clean up, somehow - he doesn't know how, he just knows that no one else will.
But God is he tired. The world, unable to take him out, seems to do its best to wear him out.
So here he sits, tied to a chair, legs crossed. His sole lifts and falls as he rocks back and forth. His head is tilted back, smile still plastered on his face, and he traces shapes and counts specks on the ceiling. His ears stand straight up as the door opens, then twitch and tilt toward the direction of the voice, but he doesn't so much as pause for a second in his movements, much less look at him. It seems like he's heard nothing but gloating for days, and he doesn't care about it any more now than he did the first ten seconds. ]
Get to the point.
[ He says with the slightest hint of impatience, mouthy as ever, because they're well beyond the pretense of pleasantries. ]
[Vox can't help but laugh. Alastor's still acting like he's in any position to give demands and it's hilarious. He can't tell Vox to do shit, not even something as menial as getting to the point. After everything that was said and done, not even a favor would be given to the radio demon, nor any shreds of mercy. Those things have to be earned, and Alastor has done nothing to deserve it.
Shok.wav grows more alert, swimming up to the glass, but Vox gives the shark no more than a quick smile. He crosses the room to stand in front of his captive, hands settling on his hips. When he leans forward to put his screen just inches away from Alastor's own face, it's with a sickening grin.]
Still moping? Hah, wow! And then you dare to tell me to get over it! Talk about a fucking hypocrisy!
[With that said, he straightens his spine again, content to tower over Alastor some more. His eyes never leave the radio demon's own, staring the man down.]
Maybe you'd get over yourself if you could just bring yourself to be happy for me. I mean... I'm getting everything I ever wanted! Isn't that just grand?
[ He knows perfectly well that he's in no position to, but why should that stop him? Alastor wasn't above humiliating himself in life if it suited his purposes. He's not even above it now, not if the payoff is great enough, but here fealty would serve him no purpose. However kind or cruel he was, Vox would do him no favors, show him no mercy, and if he wanted to kill him, he would simply do so.
No, Alastor won't degrade himself for nothing. He is the radio demon and the most powerful sinner in Hell, and with that comes a certain amount of pride. Besides, he's seen how this man treats the people around him. He knows why Vox had sidled up to him all those decades ago, and he knows what the media overlord wants him for now.
His ears lay flat back when the other man leans in, but Alastor doesn't move an inch. It takes several seconds before he finally tilts his head forward enough to meet his graze properly. The look on his face makes him sick, and it takes a concerted effort not to look away. His gaze holds steady. ]
That would require me to have even modicum of care. You'll have to settle for patting yourself on the back.
[The delay just makes it even more juicy when Alastor finally does look his way, and Vox makes sure to stare as deeply into those bright red eyes as possible. He wants to make sure it pierces- gazes into whatever counts as a soul for Alastor. He holds no fear, himself. He's not afraid of the radio demon, not on any level.]
Oh. I am. And all of Hell is, too. [His teeth bare themselves even further in that twisted grin of his.] You're the only one still holding out. ...Well, you and the princess, anyway.
[He takes a few idle steps, coming to stand by Alastor's side. His hand comes to land atop the desk chair's back, near the man's shoulder, sharp fingertips digging into the leather upholstery.]
Are you still going to insist that I'll fuck up somewhere along the way?
[ His eyes follow Vox as he steps around, briefly flicking down as his hand falls down on the chair. He leans forward when it does, just enough to not risk brushing up against it. He uncrosses his legs next, placing both feet on the ground.
Loath as he is to agree, moping might not be a bad word for what he's been doing. There's a part of him that's already accepted defeat. He's already thought of a way out of his deal with Rosie, but it meant nothing if he was trapped as Vox's prisoner. He had to know without a doubt that he could break both in rapid succession. ]
Why wouldn't I? You couldn't even manage to force a member of the royal family to bend the knee, and you expect me to?
[ Is Alastor putting himself above them? Absolutely, because he is. The fact that he was guiding Charlie, that he could exploit her for a favor, that Lucifer felt threatened enough to hate him - those things were proof of it. They were part of his plans. They were the only ones who mattered, too. Everyone else was disposable. He has to remember that. ]
Though I am looking forward to seeing how our charming heroine will redeem herself now.
[ That look, though... He does well in hiding it, and he does well in offering himself reassurances, but that piercing gaze is unsettling. It makes Alastor feel like he's missing something. He can't be, though, because there's nothing left for him to have miscalculated. ]
Edited (small addition, nothing that changes the content though) 2026-01-29 23:57 (UTC)
[Vox would argue that he did get Charlie to bend the knee when it counted, but it feels hollow. Even if she spoke the words and admitted defeat, she didn't mean it. She was forced into it, and keeps her defiant attitude even in captivity. She's not broken beyond repair, nor willing to accept Vox's rule. It's the same for Alastor. Always that fucking defiance.
He's tempted to keep prodding at them both. Keep dealing blow after blow until there's nothing left of them but a bloodied pulp. In the emotional sense, anyway. But should he even be bothering? He's already risen above them, so why keep kicking down? He has more important things to worry about. He can't kill Charlie, because he promised not to harm her. He's considered getting someone else to kill her in his stead, but he's pretty sure handing someone a weapon and telling them to cause harm could fall under the notion of laying a hand on her. He can't risk it. And he can't kill Alastor, because that would be a waste of a precious toy. There's still so much more entertainment to be milked from him.]
Redeem herself? [He laughs, taking in the irony of it all.] It would be perfect for the bitch to get her own redemption, wouldn't it? Buuut that's not how this story goes. Too fucking predictable.
[One of the smaller cables emerges from his back and snakes its way towards Alastor. The USB plug on the very end of it lingers near the man's face for a few seconds, then closes the distance all the way to rub itself along Alastor's cheek. It's both affectionate and condescending at the same time.]
[ Vox hasn't figured it out yet, and so long as that is the case, Alastor can keep racking his brain. What is there, though? What, when he has no reason to so much as go near her...? There's this feeling that he has to do it now, because tomorrow will be too late.
He can't trust that girl either. There's no one that will save Alastor except himself, and he can only begrudgingly accept it as that USB plug grows closer to him before rubbing against him. He doesn't react, not even when it presses against him, but that doesn't mean he's not aware of it every step of the way.
If he had one fear, it would be that he miscalculated when it comes to himself. He does think that Vox, who couldn't decide if he would slit his throat or keep him as a prisoner forever, would settle on the latter. They've just known each other too long for anything else. He keeps still precisely because of that. There - well, there were certain lines. There are certain lines. Those lines that were crossed were because they weren't Alastor. It was no different than how if he were freed now, there were certain lines that would be crossed, but Vox was separate from them.
It should still be that.
He does think that Vox would keep him as a favorite toy for all of eternity, and most of all now, because no one else would ever look at him in the same way. Because god or overlord or nobody at all, hero or villain or nothing at all, gaudy outfit (and the current one is pathetic in that effort to impress,) or that sweater vest, Vox will always just be Vox to Alastor. He'll always just be an absolute idiot.
No one else really gets it. ]
Spoken like a perfect villain! Let's see... If this were a story, I would be the deuteragonist, right?
[ Or maybe it would be the opposite, where Alastor would be the protagonist, but that's not the story he wants to tell. And so, without offering any room for response, he adds - ]
But then, I do have to wonder.
[ And there he stops, offering Vox the opportunity to take from that what he will. ]
[If Vox were the villain, then sure, with some wild backwards stretch, Alastor could be a deuterangonist. Thing is, Vox isn't sure whether he would be the villain. Or a more plainly put antagonist, or the protagonist, or anything like that. Those kinds of labels feel too restrictive and pedestrian. Especially now that he's achieved his goals, he's the storyteller. The one who shifts the narrative to his liking. He makes the decisions and keeps the characters in their rightful places. Maybe that's villainy in its own way.
The USB plug was just slipping down towards the side of Alastor's neck when the man's words cause him to halt. He blinks, waiting for whatever words come next, but nothing does. Silence. Oh, that is annoying. He hates that.
His head tilts lightly and his fingers ease their hold on the chair. The attempt to peer deep into Alastor's eyes continues.]
[ It's brief, but his grin does widen just for a moment, because he knows perfectly well that it's annoying, but it's also a part of their relationship. There are a thousand little annoyances shared between them, irritating habits and tendencies, little things that grate on each other, that had shown themselves over the last seventy years. Vox would have to deal with it now as much as he always had.
Still, his expression sobers quickly enough as he watches the other in return. ]
Why go so far to destroy the princess' little project? We both know that I'm the only one threat to you, and I removed myself from the equation early on.
[ It's an insignificant question, and he expects an equally insignificant answer, and he shrugs his shoulders in acknowledgment of that. It would be enough for it to be entertaining. If not that, then the fact that it ensured that there wasn't a soul in Hell who might miss his presence. There was only Vox now. Vox, and the princess that he'd captured. There were a hundred other petty reasons too, not in the least which is just to spite Alastor.
But those were still his souls. It's as offensive to the senses as having his house boarded up and burned down with the residents in it. It was decades of effort wasted. The reason why doesn't matter, but he won't feel satisfied if he says nothing. ]
There was never a chance of any of them challenging you a second time... Well, not mine anyway. They were borrowed without my permission from the start.
[ And after he'd gone so far as to make them part of this stupid deal... He can't quite keep the irritation from leaking into his voice at the end. That was a far greater slight against him. Vox had at least been within his rights. ]
[Oh, that. Vox doesn't think there's much to wonder about, where that's concerned. There's an easy reason and a more tactical reason, and both played an equal part in how it all went down. The easy reason, of course, being that it was because he could. Why not have a little fun to cement that victory even more?
A deep chuckle. The sharp tips of his fingers rap against the chair in a rhythmical pattern. He keeps staring Alastor down, and this time, the USB plug does slip down towards his neck to wrap around it. It's a loose hold, not at all attempting to cut off Alastor's air supply.]
It's not about threats. There were never any out in the field to begin with. [Not even the radio demon. He refuses to believe that.] I killed them all to set an example. To let everyone know that I don't. Show. Mercy. And the people loved it!
[Because Vox made sure all of Hell saw it; the moments those meddlesome pests drew their final breaths before suffering a death far more eternal than any other which had come before. They were all associated with the useless Princess of Hell who kept spreading lies about redemption, who was now buddying up to the very angels who'd slaughtered their own kind. Approval ratings would've soared even higher if they hadn't already reached a maximum.
[ The cable wrapping around his throat bodes ill, but he pays no mind to it for now. He offers a shrug and a cant of the head in response to his answer, a silent fair enough. He has high enough standards to find a bunch of nobodies being slaughtered by an overlord to be of little interest, but Alastor supposes himself to be outside of the target demographic. He had a different audience and goal in mind when he did his broadcasts.
As satisfied as he can be under these circumstances, he moves on, ]
Hm. Well, it made it so I have one less thing to worry about now. Charlie is the only one that I was worried about, and I must say, you've been far more disciplined than I expected.
[ Unfortunately so, but Alastor has to settle for the fact that the man doesn't seem to have figured out the letter and spirit of their deal. If he were to catch onto that... All of this really will have been for nothing. But as it is, Alastor still has a short window of time where he can keep this from going any further. ]
I was certain that you would force me to bail her out, [ There's no disappointment in his voice. His tone doesn't change at all, in fact, remaining benign. ] And I can't keep fixing everyone's self-created problems forever.
[ He gives Vox a look that makes it clear that he's included in that everyone. The pair of them really do have quite a bit in common. ]
Edited (actually i had a better idea) 2026-01-31 02:16 (UTC)
[Affection of the people is easily bought, in Vox's opinion. Tell them what they want to hear, show them what they want to see... Or show them what they'd never admit they want to see, even if deep down, it satisfies a primal urge. It all works out just fine for him, of course. Knowing what they want and delivering it on a silver platter is what makes him the center of their worlds. He's going to be a spectacular god, he's sure. Not a benevolent one, but one revered with devout enthusiasm all the same.
He catches on to that final implication, and all it does is leave him even more amused. His hand slides down from the back of the chair, coming to rest on Alastor's shoulder instead. And even then, the cable around his throat stays where it is.]
Great news, Al. You won't have to anymore! Other people's problems are none of your concern anymore! Isn't that just so fucking liberating? [His fingers squeeze Alastor's shoulder harshly, the sharp tips pressing into the fabric of his jacket.] No more begging for your help, for your power... Because none of that is relevant anymore. It's the dawn of a new era now! One where you're useless and forgotten by all of Hell. I'll be the only left to give a shit.
[And trust him, no matter how far he goes, no matter how long eternity spans... He will give a shit.]
[ His eyes flick down as Vox's hand touches his shoulder. It's a familiar gesture, or rather a mockery of one. It's too tight, and Alastor considers all the ways that hand could mutilate him with just the slightest movement. It would be just as easy for that cord to tighten and cut off his airway. He idly muses on which might come first.
It's the word useless that earns him a twitch. It stings more than he thought it might to have his worth denied so decisively, but in such a manner that he can't even easily argue. It promises that he did do everything, but never will again, and that is his greatest failure. This might be easier if Vox weren't the one person who did seem to realize how much water Alastor was carrying, or if he had simply dismissed Alastor out of pocket.
That is the problem. If only it weren't for the fear, for the lack of control, for that scratching at his brain, for being trapped, for being tied to a fucking chair, he might not mind what's being said now, because he understands that despite what's said, he would have God wrapped around his finger. It would be liberating. That's the real problem here. Alastor has been getting lazy.
Everything's eventual. ]
You are my problem.
[ Because no matter how long eternity spans... Alastor will watch over him. Radio and video. They'll always be intertwined, tangled up in clumsy strings, tied together in chairs with their backs against each other, but being strung up together like that was enough. It was a need and not a want.
There's not a single soul that could understand what that was like. ]
People will always beg for my help, they'll always look for my power, [ Just as Vox had before, just like that hotel had done before dismissing him as useless, ] But I need Charlie to be able to stand on her own two legs too. I won't be at that hotel forever.
[ And, in both a correction to himself and an acknowledgment of Vox's point, because he knows it'll be made anyway - ]
[Vox is fine with being Alastor's problem. That's the whole point. He intends to be Alastor's biggest, only problem. Nothing and no one else needs to matter. Radio will be crushed beneath video's heel for the rest of eternity, stuck in place, unable to focus on anything but that harsh pressure that's being applied. It's for that reason that Vox is ready to dismiss any other points being made.]
Al, honey... [The term of endearment slips out without second thought, and even its intent is muddled. Is it a mockery or is it genuine? The line's blurred so far, Vox doesn't know.] Why do you even give a shit? The hotel's done for.
[Vox's hand rubs along Alastor's shoulder for a few seconds, fingers stroking near the crook of his neck. Just another playful gesture of twisted affection that can't be hampered now, and also something to busy himself with as he speaks.]
There's no one left to run the place, 'cause the princess is never getting out of her little cell, and neither is her old man. Even if they were, there's no such thing as redemption in my version of the afterlife. If some idiot sinner does make it up to Heaven somehow, I'll boot 'em back down for their own sake. They can worship me from here just fine!
[ No matter how many times they have this conversation, the end result is always the same. No, not even that - every conversation with them ends in exactly the same way. No progress is made, because neither one of them is willing to concede even the slightest bit when it comes to those things that matter.
It's no different here. He doesn't care about the hotel. He doesn't care about redemption. He cares even less about Heaven. It's only by coincidence that his plans involve cleaning up after them. It's concern for himself that drives him. He can't deny that the hotel would be left rotting, too - even if Alastor could free himself, he would never step foot in that building again. Rather, Vox has the only parts of it that Alastor actually wants now. He's just arguing to argue, to avoid giving Vox even the slightest concession. And it is, too, to keep from having his own efforts undermined - any success it saw could be attributed to him.
Fingers run along his shoulder, and the sensation sends a shiver down his spine. Under different circumstances, it might be a pleasant sensation. He shifts the subject, a note of caution working its way into his voice, ]
And, what, do you plan to leave me tied to a chair for the rest of eternity too?
Edited (adding in one tiny detail that i forgot to before) 2026-02-03 02:28 (UTC)
[The way Vox sees it, the protest being sent his way is minimal. Pushback that's more of a weak nudge than an actual shove. That's how it should be. Vox is holding all the strings now, and more importantly, he's right. Maybe some day, Alastor will in turn admit that he was wrong. Give confirmation that Vox is better than him, and that it was dismissed all this time because Alastor is a petty, fragile bitch. That'd be the ideal outcome. It'd be so much sweeter than a simple apology.
For now, though... For now, there's those weak little attempts to stand his ground, and Vox will delight in knocking Alastor off balance over and over.]
Ooh, I don't know. Maybe I'll tie you to something else at some point. Or maybe I'll stick you in a big fancy terrarium so you can stretch your legs while I watch you through the glass. For display purposes only. Or maaaybe...
[His hand shoots upwards quite abruptly, palm coming to land on the side of Alastor's face so he can cup the man's cheek. His wrist is just inches away from sharp teeth and that only serves to heighten the thrill of it all.]
Maybe I'll let you roam free, if I think you've earned it. But you're gonna have to work real fucking hard to get that kinda trust from me.
[ He really has just been insufferable these last few days. No amount of misgivings and failure can keep his focus off that. His eyes narrow when Vox's hand moves up. If only the opportunity were there, he would take a chunk out of it. He wants to, but the terms of their deal ensure that he can only continue to remain compliable. The toothy grin, stretched upon his face in an unsettling curve, doesn't so much as twitch. ]
You can keep it. It would be worthless to me.
[ They both know that Alastor won't yield where it really matters. Vox could go another thousand years without seeing him budge. And in this case, there wouldn't be much point - the more that he gives, the more Vox will demand, and any give that he offered would be for that purpose alone. It's not worth it. ]
The only thing I plan on doing is what we agreed on. Nothing more, nothing less.
[Alastor gives a predictable answer, along with a predictable attitude to match. Vox has stopped expecting anything different by now. He pushes and he pulls, but he knows where it will go, at least for the next decade or so. At least. But more likely for another seventy years, or even seven hundred years. Doesn't matter. He has all the time in the universe and all the determination needed to keep pushing and pulling.]
Well then. Tying you to something else it is! Something more useless than a chair, so I'm not wasting any damned resources on you.
[A bold statement, considering Vox treats Alastor like a prized treasure. His most important belonging. Even now, his thumb shifts, lightly rubbing along Alastor's cheekbone. It's certainly far from the treatment given to a prisoner who's only taking up space.]
You're facing a reaaaal long eternity like this... Friend.
[ To look at him, the only hint that he's a prisoner is the cables wrapped around him, and even those are so messily organized and thin that it's practically decorative. It's kinder treatment than the majority would get period, because even their barbs are just part of it. Vox is cruel, and he is spiteful, and he doesn't forgive slights against him. He closes one eye as the man's thumb brushes along his cheek, at once wanting to bite his hand off and to lean into it. He settles for doing neither, instead rolling his eyes at the word friend. That's enough to earn a different sort of response. ]
Oh, don't start with that, you cheapskate. [ The condescending friend, or the waste of resources? The answer is "yes." ] You already gave me a bargain bin item.
[ It's petulant rather than upset, because they know each other too well for these things to be uncomfortable. It's the one thing that he had been right about, at least to a point. ]
[Vox can't help but laugh at that comeback. Really just throw his head forward and bark for a moment. His hand lands back down on Alastor's shoulder again, while at the same time, the cable starts slinking along his throat again as it retreats. It doesn't need to be there any longer; he had no intention of throttling Alastor to begin with.]
Wait, is that why you're complaining? Is the chair not comfy enough? [It's not why Alastor's complaining and he knows it, but he'll poke fun anyway.]
How about this? Once I get my throne, I'll chain you to it. I wanna saaay... Fifteen feet of walking freedom in any direction. Any time someone comes to get an audience with their god, you get to watch me in action. You know, since you won't have a fucking choice.
[ The mention of being chained is enough to agitate him. It touches on one sore spot and then another, because it occurs to him that there is more to be done after Vox has his fall from grace. There are debts to be repaid now, because his two souls were taken, and Alastor wants to collect on that with interest.
Vox really doesn't have any choice to succeed now. Alastor would let him live, but he won't so much as look at him again if he fails.
The thought leaves him agitated and dissatisfied. It kills any attempts to overcome that uneasy feeling. His ears remain pinned back. He pulls away without warning, having decided that he's done being touched now. ]
Hmm... No, I don't think so. Try again, but this time with something that isn't a soporiferous cliche.
[Alastor pulls away, and Vox lets him. He always does, no matter how hard he's trying to assert dominance. There's a lot of shit he'll do to Alastor, but there's some lines he refuses to cross. It wouldn't feel right if he did cross them, and if it doesn't feel good, why even do it? Things are fine the way they are now. Comfortable, familiar, infuriating and satisfying at the same time.
His hand withdraws and he stands up straight again, his fingers instead fluffing up the fur of his new cape. It feels a little similar to Val's fluff, and that alone helps to ground him. To keep him calm.]
Alright, just for argument's sake... Indulge me. You're the one who oh-so-willingly offered to be my prisoner, so how do you picture this playing out from here?
[ For a time, he just watches the other as he considers further He has to amend his previous thought. If he could take as much as had been taken to him, he could be satisfied with that. But doesn't that amount to the same thing? Fair is fair, but it won't be seen that way.
There's no shortage of scenarios that he could come up with, but with the above he realizes that he simply doesn't care how it happens, because in either case they both lose. Alastor can do nothing but cut his losses, and Vox can gain nothing but an eternity of them torturing each other. Then again, maybe that would be enough for him. ]
From here? Well, I'll seduce you and then kill you while you're distracted by my charms. That always works.
[ Vox is going to treat any answer he gives as ridiculous no matter what, just like Alastor will insist that he's going to fuck up no matter what, so he might as well offer something that is. ]
[Vox was expecting a variety of answers, and yes, most would've been ridiculous. Or downright insulting, or even both. What actually comes out into the open catches him off guard. Not the 'killing him' bit, because that's par for the course, but the seduction bit. It causes his eyes to widen for a second, before amusement overtakes him.]
You'll seduce me? You will? [He snorts and chortles, pressing a hand against his chest as he tries to stop any further laughter.] I'd like to see you try!
[And he means that. It's a challenge. Just because he's attracted to Alastor doesn't mean he can picture the man putting that kind of charm to good use. He'd love to experience that first hand.]
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[For Radioshow]
She didn't proclaim Vox to be the strongest Sinner in Hell, she proclaimed him to be the number one Sinner in Hell. It still encompassed Vox's victory just fine, so he found it acceptable, not realizing the very specific wording of it all had thrown a wrench into Alastor's plans. He would've killed Charlie right then and there, but he'd made a deal not to hurt her or whatever, so he had some of his hypnotized goons carry her away to be imprisoned in the depths of Vee Tower. What wasn't part of the deal was not hurting literally anyone else, so that was what he did. He had all the interlopers in Vee Tower killed. Then he had the princess's girlfriend killed. A couple of angels showed up to try and save the younger of the two seraphim, so he'd blasted them with the Might of Lilith. As a final blow, he threatened to kill Emily, still restrained, and that was when Heaven caved. Now without their Exorcist leaders and at risk of losing even more of their own, they'd bowed their heads in defeat before him.
He'd been tempted to kill Angel Dust too, but Val wouldn't let him. Annoying, but fair was fair. Vox still had his prisoner, so Val should be allowed the same privilege, if only to keep the man pacified. Now the imprisoned princess, the useless whore and Alastor were the only ones left standing of that failed redemption project, all three of them in chains under Vox's new rule. ...Oh, and Lucifer, but who even cared about that guy? Vox would keep using him as the tool he was whenever needed.
Either way, the celebration party in Hell went on for five straight days. Heaven lost and Vox won. It's the dawn of a new era.
Tomorrow's the day he'll go up to Heaven to make it official. Turns out, redemption wasn't needed for a sinner to walk through those golden streets. Brute force does the job just fine. He gets to rule above the highest ranks of the angels, above even the Speaker of God, and that's that. It also means he has one last night of not-quite-God-yet to go through, which means he's going to rub it in Alastor's face. Again. He's rubbed it in plenty over the past few days, but he can't get enough of it. It's addictive.
The radio demon had been left behind in Vox's office while he was out running errands, still tied to the chair and with Shok.wav keeping an eye on him. At least the muzzle's gone. It was likely silent enough, but that silence is broken the moment Vox bursts through the door. He's wearing a pristine white suit, similar to the one he wore during the rally. There's a short cape included now- a mantle with fur, white on the outside but with light blue lining on the inside. And a matching white hat, of course.]
Bam! Hey! How ya doin', Al? You little bitch?
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More than a century of planning and plotting, being looked down on, crawling through the dirt and choking down every last emotion, and what should a bit more be now? But he's struggling to come up with anything.
Hell accomplished nothing. Heaven accomplished nothing. Vox and Charlie both proved to be useless - no, more than that. Worse than useless. Worse, because the pair of them might as well have cut off his right arm. He feels like he's lost a limb, and he has for days now, because unlike other Overlords he only had two souls in his care - the only two people that he could trust, that he'd kept under his care for decades, suddenly snapped off. The rest he could accept, but those were his. Those were his souls to do what he pleased with and no one else's, and they shouldn't have been there to begin with. If they couldn't even do an infiltration right, they should've just stayed back and let Alastor handle it instead of stupidly and blindly rushing in. And as for Vox, well -
It should have been him. He should have been the one who died, along with his partners. Charlie should have done her job right, Vox should have died, and he should finally be living instead of just surviving. But they're all just useless, and Alastor's biggest mistake was thinking even one person could act without him. And now this fucking moron was given the keys to Heaven, like that wasn't going to be one more disaster. One more mess him him to clean up, somehow - he doesn't know how, he just knows that no one else will.
But God is he tired. The world, unable to take him out, seems to do its best to wear him out.
So here he sits, tied to a chair, legs crossed. His sole lifts and falls as he rocks back and forth. His head is tilted back, smile still plastered on his face, and he traces shapes and counts specks on the ceiling. His ears stand straight up as the door opens, then twitch and tilt toward the direction of the voice, but he doesn't so much as pause for a second in his movements, much less look at him. It seems like he's heard nothing but gloating for days, and he doesn't care about it any more now than he did the first ten seconds. ]
Get to the point.
[ He says with the slightest hint of impatience, mouthy as ever, because they're well beyond the pretense of pleasantries. ]
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Shok.wav grows more alert, swimming up to the glass, but Vox gives the shark no more than a quick smile. He crosses the room to stand in front of his captive, hands settling on his hips. When he leans forward to put his screen just inches away from Alastor's own face, it's with a sickening grin.]
Still moping? Hah, wow! And then you dare to tell me to get over it! Talk about a fucking hypocrisy!
[With that said, he straightens his spine again, content to tower over Alastor some more. His eyes never leave the radio demon's own, staring the man down.]
Maybe you'd get over yourself if you could just bring yourself to be happy for me. I mean... I'm getting everything I ever wanted! Isn't that just grand?
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No, Alastor won't degrade himself for nothing. He is the radio demon and the most powerful sinner in Hell, and with that comes a certain amount of pride. Besides, he's seen how this man treats the people around him. He knows why Vox had sidled up to him all those decades ago, and he knows what the media overlord wants him for now.
His ears lay flat back when the other man leans in, but Alastor doesn't move an inch. It takes several seconds before he finally tilts his head forward enough to meet his graze properly. The look on his face makes him sick, and it takes a concerted effort not to look away. His gaze holds steady. ]
That would require me to have even modicum of care. You'll have to settle for patting yourself on the back.
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Oh. I am. And all of Hell is, too. [His teeth bare themselves even further in that twisted grin of his.] You're the only one still holding out. ...Well, you and the princess, anyway.
[He takes a few idle steps, coming to stand by Alastor's side. His hand comes to land atop the desk chair's back, near the man's shoulder, sharp fingertips digging into the leather upholstery.]
Are you still going to insist that I'll fuck up somewhere along the way?
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Loath as he is to agree, moping might not be a bad word for what he's been doing. There's a part of him that's already accepted defeat. He's already thought of a way out of his deal with Rosie, but it meant nothing if he was trapped as Vox's prisoner. He had to know without a doubt that he could break both in rapid succession. ]
Why wouldn't I? You couldn't even manage to force a member of the royal family to bend the knee, and you expect me to?
[ Is Alastor putting himself above them? Absolutely, because he is. The fact that he was guiding Charlie, that he could exploit her for a favor, that Lucifer felt threatened enough to hate him - those things were proof of it. They were part of his plans. They were the only ones who mattered, too. Everyone else was disposable. He has to remember that. ]
Though I am looking forward to seeing how our charming heroine will redeem herself now.
[ That look, though... He does well in hiding it, and he does well in offering himself reassurances, but that piercing gaze is unsettling. It makes Alastor feel like he's missing something. He can't be, though, because there's nothing left for him to have miscalculated. ]
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He's tempted to keep prodding at them both. Keep dealing blow after blow until there's nothing left of them but a bloodied pulp. In the emotional sense, anyway. But should he even be bothering? He's already risen above them, so why keep kicking down? He has more important things to worry about. He can't kill Charlie, because he promised not to harm her. He's considered getting someone else to kill her in his stead, but he's pretty sure handing someone a weapon and telling them to cause harm could fall under the notion of laying a hand on her. He can't risk it. And he can't kill Alastor, because that would be a waste of a precious toy. There's still so much more entertainment to be milked from him.]
Redeem herself? [He laughs, taking in the irony of it all.] It would be perfect for the bitch to get her own redemption, wouldn't it? Buuut that's not how this story goes. Too fucking predictable.
[One of the smaller cables emerges from his back and snakes its way towards Alastor. The USB plug on the very end of it lingers near the man's face for a few seconds, then closes the distance all the way to rub itself along Alastor's cheek. It's both affectionate and condescending at the same time.]
She's not going anywhere, and neither are you.
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He can't trust that girl either. There's no one that will save Alastor except himself, and he can only begrudgingly accept it as that USB plug grows closer to him before rubbing against him. He doesn't react, not even when it presses against him, but that doesn't mean he's not aware of it every step of the way.
If he had one fear, it would be that he miscalculated when it comes to himself. He does think that Vox, who couldn't decide if he would slit his throat or keep him as a prisoner forever, would settle on the latter. They've just known each other too long for anything else. He keeps still precisely because of that. There - well, there were certain lines. There are certain lines. Those lines that were crossed were because they weren't Alastor. It was no different than how if he were freed now, there were certain lines that would be crossed, but Vox was separate from them.
It should still be that.
He does think that Vox would keep him as a favorite toy for all of eternity, and most of all now, because no one else would ever look at him in the same way. Because god or overlord or nobody at all, hero or villain or nothing at all, gaudy outfit (and the current one is pathetic in that effort to impress,) or that sweater vest, Vox will always just be Vox to Alastor. He'll always just be an absolute idiot.
No one else really gets it. ]
Spoken like a perfect villain! Let's see... If this were a story, I would be the deuteragonist, right?
[ Or maybe it would be the opposite, where Alastor would be the protagonist, but that's not the story he wants to tell. And so, without offering any room for response, he adds - ]
But then, I do have to wonder.
[ And there he stops, offering Vox the opportunity to take from that what he will. ]
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The USB plug was just slipping down towards the side of Alastor's neck when the man's words cause him to halt. He blinks, waiting for whatever words come next, but nothing does. Silence. Oh, that is annoying. He hates that.
His head tilts lightly and his fingers ease their hold on the chair. The attempt to peer deep into Alastor's eyes continues.]
Wonder what, exactly?
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Still, his expression sobers quickly enough as he watches the other in return. ]
Why go so far to destroy the princess' little project? We both know that I'm the only one threat to you, and I removed myself from the equation early on.
[ It's an insignificant question, and he expects an equally insignificant answer, and he shrugs his shoulders in acknowledgment of that. It would be enough for it to be entertaining. If not that, then the fact that it ensured that there wasn't a soul in Hell who might miss his presence. There was only Vox now. Vox, and the princess that he'd captured. There were a hundred other petty reasons too, not in the least which is just to spite Alastor.
But those were still his souls. It's as offensive to the senses as having his house boarded up and burned down with the residents in it. It was decades of effort wasted. The reason why doesn't matter, but he won't feel satisfied if he says nothing. ]
There was never a chance of any of them challenging you a second time... Well, not mine anyway. They were borrowed without my permission from the start.
[ And after he'd gone so far as to make them part of this stupid deal... He can't quite keep the irritation from leaking into his voice at the end. That was a far greater slight against him. Vox had at least been within his rights. ]
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A deep chuckle. The sharp tips of his fingers rap against the chair in a rhythmical pattern. He keeps staring Alastor down, and this time, the USB plug does slip down towards his neck to wrap around it. It's a loose hold, not at all attempting to cut off Alastor's air supply.]
It's not about threats. There were never any out in the field to begin with. [Not even the radio demon. He refuses to believe that.] I killed them all to set an example. To let everyone know that I don't. Show. Mercy. And the people loved it!
[Because Vox made sure all of Hell saw it; the moments those meddlesome pests drew their final breaths before suffering a death far more eternal than any other which had come before. They were all associated with the useless Princess of Hell who kept spreading lies about redemption, who was now buddying up to the very angels who'd slaughtered their own kind. Approval ratings would've soared even higher if they hadn't already reached a maximum.
What a show!]
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As satisfied as he can be under these circumstances, he moves on, ]
Hm. Well, it made it so I have one less thing to worry about now. Charlie is the only one that I was worried about, and I must say, you've been far more disciplined than I expected.
[ Unfortunately so, but Alastor has to settle for the fact that the man doesn't seem to have figured out the letter and spirit of their deal. If he were to catch onto that... All of this really will have been for nothing. But as it is, Alastor still has a short window of time where he can keep this from going any further. ]
I was certain that you would force me to bail her out, [ There's no disappointment in his voice. His tone doesn't change at all, in fact, remaining benign. ] And I can't keep fixing everyone's self-created problems forever.
[ He gives Vox a look that makes it clear that he's included in that everyone. The pair of them really do have quite a bit in common. ]
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He catches on to that final implication, and all it does is leave him even more amused. His hand slides down from the back of the chair, coming to rest on Alastor's shoulder instead. And even then, the cable around his throat stays where it is.]
Great news, Al. You won't have to anymore! Other people's problems are none of your concern anymore! Isn't that just so fucking liberating? [His fingers squeeze Alastor's shoulder harshly, the sharp tips pressing into the fabric of his jacket.] No more begging for your help, for your power... Because none of that is relevant anymore. It's the dawn of a new era now! One where you're useless and forgotten by all of Hell. I'll be the only left to give a shit.
[And trust him, no matter how far he goes, no matter how long eternity spans... He will give a shit.]
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It's the word useless that earns him a twitch. It stings more than he thought it might to have his worth denied so decisively, but in such a manner that he can't even easily argue. It promises that he did do everything, but never will again, and that is his greatest failure. This might be easier if Vox weren't the one person who did seem to realize how much water Alastor was carrying, or if he had simply dismissed Alastor out of pocket.
That is the problem. If only it weren't for the fear, for the lack of control, for that scratching at his brain, for being trapped, for being tied to a fucking chair, he might not mind what's being said now, because he understands that despite what's said, he would have God wrapped around his finger. It would be liberating. That's the real problem here. Alastor has been getting lazy.
Everything's eventual. ]
You are my problem.
[ Because no matter how long eternity spans... Alastor will watch over him. Radio and video. They'll always be intertwined, tangled up in clumsy strings, tied together in chairs with their backs against each other, but being strung up together like that was enough. It was a need and not a want.
There's not a single soul that could understand what that was like. ]
People will always beg for my help, they'll always look for my power, [ Just as Vox had before, just like that hotel had done before dismissing him as useless, ] But I need Charlie to be able to stand on her own two legs too. I won't be at that hotel forever.
[ And, in both a correction to himself and an acknowledgment of Vox's point, because he knows it'll be made anyway - ]
I'm not anymore.
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Al, honey... [The term of endearment slips out without second thought, and even its intent is muddled. Is it a mockery or is it genuine? The line's blurred so far, Vox doesn't know.] Why do you even give a shit? The hotel's done for.
[Vox's hand rubs along Alastor's shoulder for a few seconds, fingers stroking near the crook of his neck. Just another playful gesture of twisted affection that can't be hampered now, and also something to busy himself with as he speaks.]
There's no one left to run the place, 'cause the princess is never getting out of her little cell, and neither is her old man. Even if they were, there's no such thing as redemption in my version of the afterlife. If some idiot sinner does make it up to Heaven somehow, I'll boot 'em back down for their own sake. They can worship me from here just fine!
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It's no different here. He doesn't care about the hotel. He doesn't care about redemption. He cares even less about Heaven. It's only by coincidence that his plans involve cleaning up after them. It's concern for himself that drives him. He can't deny that the hotel would be left rotting, too - even if Alastor could free himself, he would never step foot in that building again. Rather, Vox has the only parts of it that Alastor actually wants now. He's just arguing to argue, to avoid giving Vox even the slightest concession. And it is, too, to keep from having his own efforts undermined - any success it saw could be attributed to him.
Fingers run along his shoulder, and the sensation sends a shiver down his spine. Under different circumstances, it might be a pleasant sensation. He shifts the subject, a note of caution working its way into his voice, ]
And, what, do you plan to leave me tied to a chair for the rest of eternity too?
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For now, though... For now, there's those weak little attempts to stand his ground, and Vox will delight in knocking Alastor off balance over and over.]
Ooh, I don't know. Maybe I'll tie you to something else at some point. Or maybe I'll stick you in a big fancy terrarium so you can stretch your legs while I watch you through the glass. For display purposes only. Or maaaybe...
[His hand shoots upwards quite abruptly, palm coming to land on the side of Alastor's face so he can cup the man's cheek. His wrist is just inches away from sharp teeth and that only serves to heighten the thrill of it all.]
Maybe I'll let you roam free, if I think you've earned it. But you're gonna have to work real fucking hard to get that kinda trust from me.
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You can keep it. It would be worthless to me.
[ They both know that Alastor won't yield where it really matters. Vox could go another thousand years without seeing him budge. And in this case, there wouldn't be much point - the more that he gives, the more Vox will demand, and any give that he offered would be for that purpose alone. It's not worth it. ]
The only thing I plan on doing is what we agreed on. Nothing more, nothing less.
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Well then. Tying you to something else it is! Something more useless than a chair, so I'm not wasting any damned resources on you.
[A bold statement, considering Vox treats Alastor like a prized treasure. His most important belonging. Even now, his thumb shifts, lightly rubbing along Alastor's cheekbone. It's certainly far from the treatment given to a prisoner who's only taking up space.]
You're facing a reaaaal long eternity like this... Friend.
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Oh, don't start with that, you cheapskate. [ The condescending friend, or the waste of resources? The answer is "yes." ] You already gave me a bargain bin item.
[ It's petulant rather than upset, because they know each other too well for these things to be uncomfortable. It's the one thing that he had been right about, at least to a point. ]
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Wait, is that why you're complaining? Is the chair not comfy enough? [It's not why Alastor's complaining and he knows it, but he'll poke fun anyway.]
How about this? Once I get my throne, I'll chain you to it. I wanna saaay... Fifteen feet of walking freedom in any direction. Any time someone comes to get an audience with their god, you get to watch me in action. You know, since you won't have a fucking choice.
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Vox really doesn't have any choice to succeed now. Alastor would let him live, but he won't so much as look at him again if he fails.
The thought leaves him agitated and dissatisfied. It kills any attempts to overcome that uneasy feeling. His ears remain pinned back. He pulls away without warning, having decided that he's done being touched now. ]
Hmm... No, I don't think so. Try again, but this time with something that isn't a soporiferous cliche.
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His hand withdraws and he stands up straight again, his fingers instead fluffing up the fur of his new cape. It feels a little similar to Val's fluff, and that alone helps to ground him. To keep him calm.]
Alright, just for argument's sake... Indulge me. You're the one who oh-so-willingly offered to be my prisoner, so how do you picture this playing out from here?
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There's no shortage of scenarios that he could come up with, but with the above he realizes that he simply doesn't care how it happens, because in either case they both lose. Alastor can do nothing but cut his losses, and Vox can gain nothing but an eternity of them torturing each other. Then again, maybe that would be enough for him. ]
From here? Well, I'll seduce you and then kill you while you're distracted by my charms. That always works.
[ Vox is going to treat any answer he gives as ridiculous no matter what, just like Alastor will insist that he's going to fuck up no matter what, so he might as well offer something that is. ]
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You'll seduce me? You will? [He snorts and chortles, pressing a hand against his chest as he tries to stop any further laughter.] I'd like to see you try!
[And he means that. It's a challenge. Just because he's attracted to Alastor doesn't mean he can picture the man putting that kind of charm to good use. He'd love to experience that first hand.]
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it's how he won but his three most important people are all just pissed at him lmao
maybe Velvette still cares??? (she does not)
he deserves velvette the least, hope she told him to piss off (affectionate)
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CW: suicide ideation of sorts
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