Statistical Outliers - RiddlesofSphinx - Hazbin Hotel (Cartoon) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Time is everything. It was everything when he was alive, and it’s been everything since he died. The only thing that’s changed is now he was the one that determined time. The citizenship of hell held only two real concepts of time, which is probably why there’s plenty of old badgers still holed up in their ways. First was, of course, the need to keep track on the way to doomsday. The yearly extermination was held on the same day, every year, so it became a timepiece as a consequence rather than by any actual effort. On the other hand, the second was very much an invention of his own.

TV had a way of warping time. When he was alive and doing something similar, people would work their days around the TV because it was only on for a certain amount of time, and there were only a few things worth watching. But, for that hour basis, it was the most drawing thing in the world. Things have changed obviously, now TV shows play all day. People still checked their clocks for the start of their favorite program. The internet and cellphones constantly show the time, even if as more of a background piece to the dramas that play out behind the screen. People are absorbed by media now. They couldn’t escape it entirely. Their time was his plaything and the more time they spent obsessing over his empire, the more control he had.

Of course, with Heaven’s little hunting safari out of the way, his became the only time relevant to the cesspool down here. And most of his own time was spent cultivating that: talks shows, game shows, news, commercials, streaming platforms, you name it.

Time may be something he stole from others, but perhaps only because he had so precious little of it himself.

So, time was important to him. And when someone or something wastes his time, well…

He glanced across his screen, the blue light from the aquarium getting lost in the blue light of the devices. They glared off his face, itself a screen, and reflected off too bright to see much of anything. And Val wonders why this room is always so dark. He turned down the brightness again.
The leftmost screens were devoted to Val, his studio, and his workers. Not that he liked staring at those while shooting, mind you. There was only so much of that that anyone could watch and still be productive. Still, he noted, he really needed to get an electrician over there. You’d think spending all this time literally surrounded by devices, Val would’ve learned something about electrical outlet safety. But, he supposed Val wouldn’t bother. Just like he never had to worry about how he was going to get his films distributed, or edited, or formatted. He had Vox for that, after all.

Because Valentino’s problems were ultimately Vox’s problems.

Right next to Val’s studio on his surveillance was Velvette’s designer pad. He enjoyed watching her in the background of his day, barking orders and snapping people in line. You’d think she’d been the top of fashion when she was alive too, the way she acted. He had to remind himself that she wasn’t actually as old as him or Val sometimes. Other times though, well, her age showed. She played the game of likes and shares. She didn’t play the game of politics. Why in hell did he ask her to attend the overlord meeting again? She hadn’t even had the courtesy of explaining just what went wrong, only that the meeting was full of outdated morons, half of which should be wearing adult diapers. So, yeah, that hadn’t panned out well. And, no, he didn’t try to correct her either. She wouldn’t listen on a good day. And why should she? She was the one whose opinions mattered. Everyone else can shove it. Or, rather, Vox was in charge of making sure other people shoved it, or themselves, off a cliff.

Because Velvette’s problems were Vox’s problems too.

His own office and set were up there as well. It was a little redundant, sure, but he’s always insisted on the extra security. Or maybe it was his own obsession with having to have eyes on everything at all times. Hard to tell, really.

It all seemed so sterile compared to the messes that were Val and Vel’s setups. Even in the midst of a show, it was mostly just him, either plugged in and projecting or sitting behind a chair talking. Any other people in his space were either there for a short segment, or part of the backstage cronies he employs to keep things running smoothly. Sometimes he’d have one of the others up there as well, usually for promotional work: ‘Voxtek presents Valentino’s newest project’ or ‘Velvette’s new perfume line’. Something of that ilk. He wasn’t just the face of the Vees, he was the one advertising them, keeping time set to them.

But if it was a Voxtek product that didn’t involve them? Nope, wasn’t their problem.

Because Vox’s problems were Vox’s problems only.

So, he wasn’t at all surprised that his newest problem, the most recent waste of time, was shown to him sitting on his couch watching re-runs.

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

“Vox, I want it.”

Truth be told, he hadn’t been expecting to hear from Velvette for a minute. He had only just proposed that she could promote his newest and latest set of gaming headphones, which now come equipped with specialized noise cancelation. Specialized for canceling out radio static, of course. Anyways, Velvette had turned him down flat, saying the design wasn’t ‘on brand’ for her. What the hell was her brand if not part of his?

So, her storming in with demands was not on his bingo card.

“Fascinating.” He sipped a bit more of his coffee. Too much sugar, not enough cream. Memo to himself, throw the coffee boy off the tower later if this conversation gets him too worked up.

“Vox!” Velvette slammed her hand down on his console, a move very few ever dared. Too many things could go wrong if damaged, and he couldn’t afford a Val sized tantrum in this room of all places. Coming from Vel, this was even weirder. Weird didn’t replace anger though, so he forced himself to police in his emotions.

“Yes?” He said, pulling his grin across his screen as far as he could. It made him look more friendly, he reminded himself, and not like his shark friends currently swimming about agitated.

He didn’t get to see her reaction. Instead, she brought her phone straight to his face. It was a picture from an article, written about the newly reconstructed hotel and whatnot. The smiley freak was there somehow. Vox still didn’t know how he managed to survive being sliced down the middle. The picture distorted something awful around his face and figure.

He glanced up at Velvette, tugging her phone down just a tad, enough to look her in the eyes.

“What am I looking at?” He asked, slightly confused and more irritated the longer his conversation went on. He kept smiling.

She took her phone back, zoomed in on a particular part of the picture, then put it back in his face.

“This thing, I want it.” She pointed a long, painted nail at it, as if he couldn’t make it out from the extreme zoom she pulled.

He still didn’t get it.

She tapped at a picture of one of the new residents of Alastor’s failing project, someone of no consequence that he’s never heard of. He prides himself on his knowledgebase. The internet was literally accessible from his head. He knew just about everything about anybody: their likes, their dislikes, the numbers of all their friends, accounts they had, jobs they applied for, who owned whose soul, the works. This one? A literal nobody. A ghost, if you will. What little he had on him was from surveillance tapes, showing him driving around a fancy car. Aside from that, he apparently moved into the hotel. That’s it. That’s literally all there was to him.

He just raised a brow to her, giving her that look that tells her she has to explain more than she would in a text message. She rolled her eyes, but she went on.

“It’s adorable, and I want it.”

Again, another moment he was reminded of Velvette’s age.

An adult, but not quite an adult.

Adorable? Vox didn’t really think he was an authority on adorable. He was a good judge on other things, things he prided himself on. Sexy, sure. Suggestive, why not? Beautiful, naturally.

But adorable?

The kid (he’s about ninety percent sure he was a kid) was some kind of fox. His ears were far too big for his small body, which already made him look like a mouse. His eyes were a little too large for his head. And he had a bushy tail. Well, he looked kinda fluffy everywhere. But this is Hell. Every other person was fuzzy in some way. Angel dust was a spider for crying out loud, and he was covered in fluff.

He didn’t get it. Though, that didn’t mean he couldn’t take advantage of it.

“Well, certainly, Velvette! Whatever you want…though, from what I understand, he’s holed up in-”

“I don’t care. I’ll do the stupid commercial for those headset things, but I want this first.”

Oh, well, right to the point then. Another thing he liked about Velvette, she was direct about everything. And with that said, she stormed right out like the hurricane she came in as. Honest, he has no idea what she planned to do with the kid once she had him. Turn him into a fur coat, maybe? He didn’t really care, not so long as half of Hell can’t even hear the radio bastard anymore.

A quick tap into the mainframe had his eyes peering out the camera of one of his drones. Fixated on the hotel, he picked up on a bit of conversation. It was the usual bullsh*t, the princess spouting off whatever silly plan she had in mind to push the rest of them towards being ‘better’. Since when was writing heartfelt letters to someone next you considered in heavenly entry?

The kid wasn’t in view, which wasn’t surprising. Despite being probably the youngest of this group, he certainly worked the longest hours. Kudos to him, Vox supposes. He knows the hours of shooting Val puts Angel through, and the kid still seems to hold the record for longest day. And if there is anything he can get behind, it’s a strong work ethic. Or maybe he sold his soul to an insomniac. Either is possible.

Just as he considered jumping through other cameras, to see if he was taking his usual route, the car rolled up to the hotel. The kid all but leapt outside, skipping his way up to everyone.

“Charlie! Charlie!” He had a high voice, like he’d not yet gone through puberty. It sounded like a language version of the triangle, constant tinging.

He was vibrating with delight, jumping in place as the rest of the hotel looked on, confused.

“I’m officially on vacation!” He chirped, explaining before anyone even posed the question. “My boss went down to Gluttony for a week, so I’ve got the time off!”

At that, the princess was beaming. She started talking so fast and so pitched that he hardly caught anything past the idea of doing a full ‘activities’ week. He can only assume it was all more half measures towards getting these dogs some manners.

“Oh! I know just how to start!” Of all people, Lucifer chimed in. If his drone flew a little more skewed, it wasn’t because of nerves. “I’ll make pancakes!”

Oh, right. The king of hell was just as much of a pansy as his daughter. He keeps forgetting that. Mostly on account of how obscenely powerful he still was.

“Hm, all that bragging about cuisine, and all you ever seem to make are dull, tasteless breaded monstrosities.” His voice made the camera twitch unnaturally. The audio sounded distorted, like the microphone had been fried. A random pop almost made him jump from his chair.

Alastor’s smile was as annoying as ever, even when he can hardly see it through the distortion. Vox could feel his fingers digging into his panel without even thinking of it. In fact, he was only aware he was doing it because the sparks flying off his fingers got some feedback from its circuits.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one to find the radio creep unbearable, because Lucifer was none too happy about that little comment.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Who asked the cannibal? I keep forgetting you’re only into greasy finger food.”

Vox snorted into his hand as Alastor’s hair bristled in annoyance. Would he prefer it if he was the one who caused him to get his hackles up? Sure, but he was never going to pass up an opportunity to laugh at his expense. Knowing Alastor, the unintentional dig at his mother’s jambalaya hurt way more than the insult to his weird cannibal diet.

His smile became more strained, like he wanted to gnaw Lucifer’s throat out, but before he got tempted, the kid pepped up.

“H-how about we bake something instead?” Ears folded flat against his head, the kid turned towards Angel. “Didn’t you say you wanted to make brownies?”

Angel, as Vox knew, wasn’t thinking about the same kind of brownies that the kid was. And Angel seemed to realize this because he immediately jumped into damage control mode, all four arms waving about like he didn’t know what to do with any of them.

“I, um, yeah! Sure! Brownies! That sounds great! Just…normal brownies.”

The angel girl shot him a glare, one that Charlie politely tried to redirect.

Oh, this could’ve been its own reality show. He can see what entertainment Alastor gets out of it, even if the investment isn’t worth the payoff.

“We’re going to need to go to the store then.” Alastor’s cat pointed out. Oddly, he wasn’t holding a bottle in his hand. Usually, he was one foot in the gutter by this time of the day. “The kitchen’s been wiped out.”

“Wiped out? How?” Charlie’s girlfriend hissed.

“Bugs.” Alastor’s other pet, the creepy girl, lifted a metal stick. On it, clusters of bugs dangled, legs still twitching. Val had mentioned meeting her in a club one time. That was the same day he noticed there was a bald spot around Val’s collar.

…yeah, no need to explain why the smiley freak keeps that one around.

“That’s okay! I’ll just run down to the store and grab some groceries.” The kid added quickly, before anyone could comment on the pyre of insects currently dying a slow and painful death.

To his own interest, no one offered to go with him. No one offered to go instead of him. A quick rewind of surveillance told him that the kid was usually the one grabbing groceries on his way back from work. It was routine. The only added thing was Charlie handing over a, frankly, stupid amount of money for food. The kid quickly corrected it to an approximate amount and handed the rest back. A smart move, he supposed. People don’t rob people without money.

Of course, that assumes people would want the money, and obviously Vox wasn’t interested in pocket change.

With a flick of his hand, he brought up his secretary. She blinked as she looked up from her pad to her computer screen, quickly reworking the fins making up her hair. She was always dressed a little too much like she worked for Val, but she was good at her job and he’s yet to find a replacement. So, for now, she stays.

“Yes, Mr. Vox?” She asked, popping her lips up into a heart shaped smile.

He snapped up an image of the kid on her screen, taken from his recent watch in.

“I need you to pick this thing up for me. He’s heading to the grocers on the corner of Scarlet Drive and Butcher’s row.” He said, noting as the kid was looking for a place to park. The cameras in that part of town were much more numerous. Without Mr. Smiley making everything go haywire, he had a much better view of Velvette’s new toy.

“…any special instructions, sir?” She asked, accentuating her neck.

“Yeah, make sure he arrives without a scratch on him. I don’t deal with damaged goods.”

With that, he hung up. Back to business as usual.

It played on in the background of talk shows and newscasts. He was never truly unplugged from everything. That didn’t mean he saw everything all the time, mind you. He did, you know, have a life. But if he wanted his attention elsewhere, he could always jump to something else in the digital network. Case and point, while he was in the middle of discussing the upcoming acid rainstorm, he caught eye of some of his men grabbing the kid.

It wasn’t much of a struggle. He was probably lighter than the groceries he was carrying. He hardly had time to utter a cry before he was pushed inside the car and driven off towards Vee tower. The car was just as automated as the rest of his devices. He’s never tried it, but he’d pretty sure he could drive it if he wanted to. Not that he did because, really, who had time for that? He did notice though that once the kid was shoved in the center seat, and held by the arms on either side, he didn’t protest. His ears were pinned to his head, so it was obvious he was scared sh*tless. His tail was curled tight between his legs, but his eyes were trained forward, like he was preparing to charge headfirst into a train.

This probably wasn’t the first time he’s been kidnapped. Not really too surprising, considering just how weak he was. It was just interesting to see him immediately know that fighting was never going to get him out of this situation. So, he wasn’t entirely dumb, at least.

Huh, this might just be interesting after all.

He finished with his broadcast, cutting to commercial before one of the pre-recorded segments went to play. He had just enough time to grab a coffee before meeting his men over in his lobby, the one meant for employees only.

He scrolled through his feed, pushing numbers, trying to see when and how would be the best way to appeal to the masses for those new headsets of his. Hey, just because he could hypnotize them all, doesn’t mean he has to. Many of them would just sucker themselves into buying it, especially if all the rest of their friends had a pair. That was a different kind of hypnotism altogether.

Two flunkies in dark suits dipped their heads when he walked in, brutes he doesn’t remember the names of nor would bother to. He looked down from his phone only for a moment, enough to register the shock on the kid’s face as he looked up. He expected him to be afraid. No doubt Alastor would’ve been ruining his (not so) good name at the hotel. Or, if not him, then he imagines Angel didn’t have much good to say either. Not that he paid much attention to Val’s employees. Honestly, the only reason he had to deal with or hear about Angel was because Valentino literally wouldn’t stop making him a problem. And, as said, Valentino’s problems always end up Vox’s problems.

Here's the thing, the kid looked afraid still, but there was something else there as well. Something he didn’t quite make out.

He flicked his finger, and his guards dropped him down. Surprisingly, the kid didn’t try to make a run for it. He glanced around, but probably quickly decided that, yeah, there’s was no easy path out. He looked back up at Vox, waiting for him to say something he supposed. Why should he though? He doesn’t owe him anything. This was all just a means to an end, and he didn’t have time for anything else.

“I take it you’re the smart type.” His attention went back to his phone, but he could tell the kid was waiting with bated breath. “Then you’ll know to shut up and do as your told and you probably won’t end up dead.”

‘Probably’, heh, he was lying to himself now.

The kid’s eyes watered, suddenly finding something interesting about the floor. Hm, didn’t want to cry, huh? Well, Vox would bet Velvette breaks him in less than a day. Insecurity reads to her like blood does to his sharks. There will be carnage later.

Vox walked towards the elevator. The kid didn’t automatically follow behind his coat tails. That was strike one. A jolt sparked as annoyance hit him. He snapped his fingers together and pointed down by his side. If he was going to give Velvette a gift, it was just the manners in him demanding he gave it in person, one of the few carryovers from his living days.

“Here. Now.” He demanded, teeth still clenched.

That seemed like more than enough encouragement. Tail tucked between his legs, he slowly joined Vox in the elevator. With a twinge of electricity, the lift began to rise. The kid, comically, almost fell off the edge. The lack of walls around the perimeter of the circle really got to him. So much so he actually moved closer to Vox, rather than be anywhere near the edge. Amusing. It would’ve been funnier if it wasn’t so pathetic.

There was the usual ting when they arrived at Velvette’s floor, and the doors opened to the usual chaos. Models and designers running around everywhere, most of them with sweat beading down their faces as their boss literally ripped a dress in two in front of one unfortunate stylist.

“Is there not a single one of you who doesn’t have sh*t for brains?” She roared, tossing the fabric mess into a garbage bin as the designer nearly passed out right there. “Who’s the moron who thought that pink polka dots were ‘in’ this season?”

“Oh, Velvette!” Vox stepped out, and people got out of his way. One overlord was already one too many for these people. Though, he noted, there did seem to be an unusual amount of relief when they saw him. No doubt they thought he’d rein her in like he usually did whenever she or Val went too far off the rails. Jokes on them, he was only here to drop off his end of the bargain and go over the commercial.

She turned and looked at him over her shoulder. To say she was in a ‘bad mood’ would’ve been polite considering the purse of her lips and the blood she was currently wiping off her hands. Her attention was half on him, and half stuck to her phone.

“What the f*ck you want?”

The kid had snuck up behind him, too small and insignificant to be seen from outside his shadow. The staff that did see him twisted a bit in uncertainty. Vox curled a hand behind him and shoved him forward.

“Why, just bringing you a little present! Thought it would brighten up your day!”

Everyone in the room waited for a reaction. Many of those running about slowed or outright stopped what they were doing to watch what would happen next. Velvette herself blinked as she put down her phone.

Even more surprising, the kid gulped, took a breath, and brought a hand up in a nervous wave.

“Um, h-h-hello.”

Without the warping that just naturally came from any recording, the kid sounded younger somehow. His voice was clearer, but still meek. His ears flicked forward, twitching with tension, but trying to look friendly.

Well, he could read a room. He’ll give him that.

Velvette made an unholy sound. The shriek bounced in his servos like someone was banging a pot over his head. The vibration caused his face to glitch out and, by consequence, cause the whole f*cking tower to blink like broken Christmas lights. He’s pretty sure the glass cracked in places, and the employees were bleeding out their ears. The kid had grabbed his own in a vice grip.

She finally stopped, moving with incredible speed and scooping the kid up like he weighs less than nothing. She started swinging him around like he was a new puppy, bad mood entirely forgotten.

“Oh my god, he’s adorable! Even better than the video!” She ruffled through his fur, tugging lightly on his big ears, before finally putting him back on the ground…only to tug Vox down and give him a quick hug around the neck. “Vee, you’re the very best!”

He forgot for a second that he didn’t just do it for her, because it had honestly been a while since she’s been so openly and nicely affectionate with him. It took him a second to reboot.

“Yes, I know.” He said, jumping right back into it. “Hold the applause for now though. So, have you had a chance to look over the design I sent you?”

She snapped up her phone and flicked something into the data cloud.

“I fixed it up, made it more appealing. Take a look.”

He downloaded it. She altered a few cosmetic things about it. The standard design didn’t change much but…

“Um, why did you make a version with ears on it?” Half of the denizens of hell had ears, many of them bigger than these ones. True, the techno aspect to them he can get behind. Speakers and glowing lights were added to the frame, making it cooler in dimmer light. But why ears?

“Because they’re cute. And cute is ‘in’ right now.” She stated, manner of fact, before turning her attention back to her new toy.

Well, okay. He could work with this. It wasn’t entirely off brand for his more technical projects. As long as it was kept modern looking, he could look past the ‘cute’ part of it. While he’s been mulling that over, Velvette has scooped up her new prize like she just won him from a carnival game. A million and one selfies later, she turned her attention to the kid’s wardrobe.

“While the 90s are making a comeback right now, we’ve got to do something about…all of this.” She picked at his shirt like it might give her lice. “Also, a collar.”

“B-but I’m not-” He started.

Vox cleared his throat, giving the kid a warning grin.

“What did I say about the talking thing again?” He teased.

The kids sighed but, promptly, shut up.

“I’ll have the testing design ready for you tonight.” He mentioned to Velvette. He would have it sooner, but now he had to install extra lights and speakers on fake ears.

“Good, I’ll start teasing about the new product. We’ll run the commercial after I’ve ‘leaked’ it.”

And as they both knew, the commercial was a Vox problem, not a Velvette problem.

“I’ll leave you to it then!”

Good. All’s well that ends well, he guesses.

As he went to the lift, he caught one last look from the kid. There was that expression again, the one he didn’t quite understand. It almost lingered on him, even as the door closed. In the last second before Vox was left to his own devices once more, he saw the kid opening his mouth like he was about to call out after him. He didn’t though. And the doors to the lift snapped shut.

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

He’ll be honest, it was a long day. Even after all the drama with Velvette, he was called down to Val’s studio because of some issue with the cameras there. The issue had been that someone had dropped some lube onto the lens, warping what would’ve been a perfect shot. Well, said someone gave Val his much needed target practice.

Angel dust was there, of course, and Vox made it a point to avoid him as much as physically possible. He didn’t want to hear about him today.

Aside from that, shooting the new commercial for later use, and filling out the rest of his programs, he almost forgot his earlier troubles. So much so that, when he finally was able to retire back to their top floor, he was surprised to find the kid on the couch, wrapped up in Velvette’s arms as she took more pictures of the two of them together.

He didn’t often keep tabs on Velvette’s feed, that was usually her business, but he poked around for a second.

It’s blown up. Like, they’ve always had numbers before, but he’s not sure up to this scale.

Likes, shares, replies, the works in unprecedented figures. All from photos she’s sharing of her latest projects, most of which featured the kid in the background like a set piece. Positivity regarding their brand, regarding them seemed to be at an all-time high. A quick search revealed that most of that positivity was an echo chamber from Velvette’s followers bleeding down a common thread to the rest of hell, which was generally: ‘Look how good/awesome/attractive the Vees are! They’ve even got such a cutie pie with them!’.

He calculated all of that in the span of a minute. Velvette knew he was just…so baffled the minute after. He might’ve blue screened from the way her face twitched, like she was holding back a laugh. She was smirking when he finally regarded her again.

“You think you’d know better than to question me by now.” She teased.

“…okay, granted. But how?”

“I told you, ‘cute’ is in.” She grabbed the kid again and lifted him onto her lap like a plush doll. She wasn’t tall, or at least, not compared to Vox, but the kid was small even in her arms. Looks like she probably burned his old clothes too, because he was wearing one of her new summer collections loungewear outfits, Vee branded and everything. Around his neck was a delicate collar, almost a necklace, the charm of which had their signature hearts but with an electric ‘V’ cutting through it. Hm, note for later, look into pet market.

The kid looked at him again, head perking up a bit as he walked over, but it seemed like he learned his lesson on the talking thing.

It was strange to have another person in their space, though less so the more Velvette treats him like a pet than a person. Val had a pet for…brief time, and Vox learned from that to never get him anything of the sort again. Which means, this kid is going to be an issue already.

“Has Val seen him yet?” He asked, almost with a groan. It was the end of the day, and he didn’t feel the need to cake on a smile without anyone else around. He was f*cking tired, alright? He didn’t need Val causing an issue over her new literal boy toy.

She shrugged.

“Don’t think so. Been too busy with that long shoot with Angel. Why?”

“Remember what happened to the last pet?”

At that, the kid’s ears dropped, and his body curled inwards a bit. Velvette petted the spot at the top of his head.

“…he’ll stay in my room. And tell Val that if breaks my new toy, I’ll be up his ass, I swear to God.”

“I’ll let him know.” Better that the two adults work it out…hopefully work it out. If there was one thing worse than a Val tantrum, it was a Val versus Vel brawl. Because somehow Vox was always the one fixing sh*t afterwards.

Then, her phone went off. Velvette made a face, groaned, then turned to Vox.

“I’ve got to take this.”

She put the kid down beside her for a moment, standing up to head off to her room.

“Watch him for a second, darling.” She didn’t ask so much as just abandoned him to his new task, walking off and pretending to be pleasant about something over the phone. Her door slammed shut as the conversation seemed to take a turn. He could listen in, but her shriek from before had already had him running diagnostics and he didn’t want to risk a round two so quick.

God, he was so f*cking tired. He’ll just order in for the night. He just didn’t have the energy to head back out for food and a night full of drinks.

“Coffee?”

The voice caught him off guard. He’d been zoning out, hadn’t he?

The owner of the voice poked his head over the rim of the couch. Geez, he was small. He barely made it over just to look at him.

“Huh?” He asked.

“Y-you look tired. I…I was just thinking that you might want a coffee…or tea…or I can make hot chocolate, if you want.”

He…what? Did he not realize who he was talking to? Did he not realize where he was? Was he just stupid? Also, who gave him permission to talk? Vox certainly didn’t.

“You know, last I checked, pets didn’t talk.” He snapped a bit, voice warping with distortion.

The kid didn’t look any more afraid than before. Since when was he unintimidating to children? Before he could get madder, an alert flashed before his eyes. Power levels low, please plug in or put into power save mode. He really overdid it today, huh? Maybe he should fit in another coffee break between segments. You know, forget the kid. He can punish him tomorrow when he had the energy to do it.

His limbs hurt a bit as he moved. His back was sore from all the sitting in that stiff chair. He really ought to replace it, but the odd angle of its back meant he always sits straight in interviews and, well, it’s a good look. He’d be lament to get rid of it just because of a little pain.

f*ck it. He’s just going to go pass out.

“Stay here, and don’t move.” He ordered as he quickly undid his bow tie. The collar released and he could feel air and blood circulating around his neck again. Eyes followed him as he went to his room, but he couldn’t be bothered to snapping back again.

He was just about to open his door when he noticed it.

Ah, he must’ve snuck pasted Velvette.

Smoke curled in from the doorway, red whisps of the telltale signature of Valentino drifted towards him like grasping hands. It reached to his waist, his shoulders, and across his chest. Val was in a mood. Probably that mood. Unless he wanted to deal with another fit, and despite feeling like he wants to drop to the floor, Vox had to be in that mood too.

f*ck my life.

Business smile, come on. Just business as usual.

And he stepped in.

…

As it turned out, there was a reason Valentino was in that mood. Worse, he was in the version of that mood which left Vox feeling like he just lost a fight. He was also, currently, on the floor. Val has taken over his bed, and any attempt to remedy this whole situation will probably end up worse somehow.

Small glitches danced across his vision. He could feel the places Val’s claws caught on the sides of his screen. They were enough to hurt, but he just hoped it wasn’t bad enough to need a buffing out. He sat up, and almost immediately regretted it. Damn it, Val! What was so appealing about mauling on him like a f*cking cat toy? His back was a collage to scratches, his legs a testimony to the power of mandibles or whatever the f*ck he’s got in his face.

Valentino was happily snoozing away, his particular grievance stripped away by the power of a f*cked-out sleep and mauling Vox. Apparently, Angel was acting up. He was late to set, was pissed off when he arrived, and was in entirely too much of a rush to leave. Obviously, this was a problem for Val. And, now, Vox. Because, again, Valentino’s problems are always Vox’s problems.

It didn’t take much to figure out why Angel was doing this sh*t. It would only a couple of hours before Alastor’s pet projects figured out the kid was gone. Not dead, but gone. So far as he knew, they haven’t figured it out yet. Angel probably hadn’t had time to surf the web while working, and the rest of them apparently didn’t even have phones. Princess Morningstar didn’t follow the Vees, so it’s not like she’d be likely to see their feed.

Even now, he could see them walking the streets, asking folks, looking for hide or hair of him. Instead of looking the one place they might get a clue, they distracted themselves with nonsense.

He stretched out, figuring he might as well take the couch. He had to get some sleep. Also, while he was at it, he’d just quietly silence anything mentioning the kid on the pity party’s feed. Not that he was concerned, but the idea of Princess Morningstar walking into Vee tower (or worse, Lucifer) with demands was both embarrassing and demeaning. He wouldn’t have it.

When he left the room and headed into the lounge, he was surprised to find the T.V. on. There was a streaming movie playing, and a voice was singing that he hadn’t heard in…fifty? Sixty years? Longer?

God, he’d been alive last time he heard this. Back when it first came out. He remembered. He had that tune stuck in his head for months. Everyone did.

He’d always loved the T.V., alive or dead. As hypnotic as it was to everyone down here, it held just as much sway to him, even after all these years. His feet dragged him towards the sound, the old timey tune jumping into chorus again.

“I’ve a smile on my face. I walk down the lane. With a happy refrain. Singin’, just singing in the rain.”

That…didn’t come from the T.V.

The small, soft sound came from the couch, where two tired eyes blinked slowly at the screen. There was a small smile on his face, as if he really did forget for a moment that he’d been kidnapped.

“She’s gonna be really mad that your over here and not where she told you to be.”

Vox’s little comment nearly made him jump out of his skin. Though shock, surprise, and even slight fear seemed to give way to something somber in his mind. Vox didn’t say it, neither did the kid, but they both knew he looked like sh*t right now.

“…I know.” He muttered, after a moment, like he was considering whether Vox would want a response or not. “But…but I didn’t want to sleep on the floor.”

Oh. Well. Um.

He bit his lip. No, no. He wasn’t about to sympathize with him. That’d be like sympathizing with the wallpaper or the chair. It had a purpose and when it’s done with it, it’ll get thrown out like all the rest of it. That’s all.

“That’s where pets belong.” He hissed.

“…do I have to be a pet?”

“If you want to keep your scalp, yes.”

He sighed, despair puffing out into a choked noise. That said, he didn’t wander back to Velvette’s room. Instead, he abandoned the couch for the floor, resting his head on his tail as he curled inward for warmth. Now abandoned, Vox took over the couch. He had half a mind to change the channel and was about to when the kid pipped up again.

“C-could you leave it on?”

“…why?”

“I love this part.”

He could name on one hand the number of people down here still alive that he knew of that actually watched this movie. All of them were far, far older than the kid. He didn’t look like a 50s kid, or didn’t dress like one. Maybe he kept up to date with all the innovations, like Vox has, but nothing about the kid has struck him as being from when he was still walking around.

A movie kid then? Sure, one with good taste but…okay, no, that was weird too.

He left it on. Not sure what possessed him to do it, but he left it on. Gene Kelly kept right on talking, even after the kid fell asleep. And at some point, while he was singing, Vox’s own lids drooped low.

…

He woke up to the click of a phone taking a picture. His whole body felt like it was still coming online by the time he even realized what was going on. Velvette, standing in front of the couch, was holding an impromptu photo session featuring Vox sleeping on the couch. She did that sometimes, take photos of him in compromising or funny positions. Most of them involved Val, though there was a particular vid of him unintentionally slamming his head against his desk that got a good laugh. She doesn’t really post these more…reputation damaging ones. No, she just keeps them for blackmail.

Now, while he didn’t really care about the sleeping part, it registered that he probably still looked like a shark attack victim via Val. The f*ck was so amusing about that-?

A quick look down and he got his answer. The kid was there, guess he never went back to Velvette’s room. He was still asleep, curled almost entirely into a sphere. A Voxtek branded throw blanket was tossed across his shoulders. It was probably the one they kept by the couch, all things considered. He didn’t think much of it…but from an outside perspective…

“I didn’t do that.” His voice sounded groggy from sleep and the lingering exhaustion. Velvette scoffed, in a laughing, mocking tone, and kept taking pictures.

“That is so cute, Vee.”

“I didn’t do it!” He snapped louder, enough to wake the kid up with a jolt. A bit of electricity might’ve made the jump and zapped him, because he responded like someone stepping on a live wire. Eyes wide and leaping up, his ears flicked around looking for the problem.

“What happened? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Vox growled, frown pulling into a broken smile. “You’re still talking.”

The kid deflated, realizing again where he was, and snapped his mouth close. Velvette puffed out her cheeks.

“Uh, did you have to go and ruin it?”

“Ruin what? You making fun of me?”

“No, you being cute, Vee. I told you, ‘cute’ is in. It makes you look more approachable and desirable to be a little cute sometimes.”

He felt like he was going to blow a fuse. Sparks danced around between wires and circuits, and he had to physically pull himself in. He was never going to get anything done if he started his day short-circuiting. He trained his emotions back. Smile, the camera’s on again!

“While that may be the case, Vel, I think it’s probably better if half of hell doesn’t think I got mauled by a bear, hm?”

She actually looked upset by the idea of not sharing it. He can already tell she tacked on a few hearts across the pic. The taglines, ‘Vee life’ and ‘Vee with the dog he didn’t want’, were all set and ready to go.

A game show thinking sound went off his speakers as a thought came to mind. “Oh, here’s an idea, why don’t you just edit it a bit, so I look more put together when you post it? Don’t you have better pictures of me on the asleep on the couch?”

Usually, he was speaking to Val like he was a misbehaving child, but Velvette earned it a few times. Like right now, when she was acting like a kid who was told they had to see the doctor before getting a lollipop.

“Fine!” She huffed. “And don’t be surprised when everyone’s up in arms to watch your new presentation.”

She grabbed the kid by the scruff of his neck and walked them both back to her room.

What presentation-? Oh, yeah. Headsets. The whole reason he was currently suffering Velvette’s added attention right now. Well, if it gets him more viewers…it should be worth it. It better be worth it.

Though, he did double check on Alastor’s little gang. Still panicked, it seemed. Still had no idea where the kid was. Good. His little media silencing was doing the trick then. Yet…he knew even he couldn’t keep it up forever. Someone would let it slip. That could lead to some trouble, given the kind of reaction the king of hell seemed to have. Honestly, he didn’t realize anyone would miss him this much. Lucifer hardly went out, now he was patrolling the streets with his daughter like he was desperate to find the family dog. And he wanted no part of that fight.

Hm. As far as he knew, the kid still owned his soul. Maybe it was about time he wrote up a contract. File that under things to do for later.

For now, there was work to do.

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

“Voxtek is proud to present the newest innovation in headset technology. Gone are the days when the screams of the damned or your annoying mother-in-law ruin your gaming experience! The sound cancellation on them is guaranteed to see you through even the noisiest situation!”

As if to accent the point, Vox, while wearing them, stood in front of comically large speakers. The sound cut out just as the speakers activated, the force of the sound enough to send his employees flying. Vox, himself, couldn’t hear anything. A quick press of a button to the side activated a secondary feature, sound filtering.

“And if that wasn’t enough, they can also filter out any sound you want, save for your voice. Again, perfect for the unfortunates still stuck in their mother’s basem*nt! Not only are they connectable to any and all of your Voxtek devices, but the wireless communications can hook up straight to your speaker function. You can take your call and enjoy walking through a scream park without a problem! The perfect gift for a busybody like myself!”

On cue, Velvette slid into frame, sporting a brand new, very modernized outfit. On top her head was the special one she requested, the one with ears. The lights dimmed ever so slightly, and Velvette’s outfit jumped to life, including glowing eye shadow and, of course, the frames of the ears. Again, not sure why it was such a necessity but he’s rolling with it.

“And right now, we’ve got a specialty line of them, working in collaboration with Velvette Designs! You might’ve seen them on the web lately! These items are limited release, so get them while their hot!”

Then, of course, the finale.

“Here at Voxtek, we strive for innovation! So Trust Us and take a look at our newest product!”

Before the commercial even finished, the limited release items sold which, at least informed Vox, that Velvette had once again been right. Apparently, people were fighting each other tooth and nail outside of stores for a set. Muggings and an odd black market popped up almost immediately. And that also meant the knock offs were starting up too, things that only ever made his products look even better by comparison. People wanted these things so badly that they were willing to risk getting ripped off. And these were people that hadn’t been hypnotized. Odd.

He might’ve felt compelled to thank her, but the kid was reward enough. Speaking of…

He watched him sitting there in her studio like a glorified trophy. Velvette was working on some designs that Val came up with for his models, things that looked trashy and were made even trashier. Naturally, that just wouldn’t do for their brand. While Vox didn’t usually care about this sort of thing, especially since none of Val’s workers ever wear clothes long enough for it to ever be noticeable, he will admit that it looked better on the poster if Angel wasn’t wearing cheap stockings and fake leather.

Anyways, the rest of the studio was treating the kid like a set piece, something to look at, coo at even, and then quickly return to work. He wasn’t speaking, but he was sunken into the couch like a boy dragged out to go shopping. Just sit, smile, and pretend everything everyone puts on looks lovely. Velvette had him in an oversized sweater which only made him look even punier. Looked good in pictures though, he noted as he scrolled through her recent posts.

He waved the footage away. He had other matters to attend to.

Like, for example, filming that segment about the horrors and potential health hazards of a specific frequency of radiowaves.

…

Just a few more hours. Then, he’d turn in for the night. Just had to go over the stock list again, product numbers, sales, and finally the new pitches his lesser technicians came up with. Only a few more things to do…

His sharks started to swim agitatedly, circling more, and then disappearing from his peripheral. Oh, great. He had a guest. Three guesses who.

“Val, I don’t have time for this right now! I’ve got-”

The smell of coffee caught him off guard. Val didn’t bring him coffee. He brought coffee to Val sometimes, but the only person who brought him coffee he threw off the building the other day. He didn’t expect him back to work so quickly either. Huh. Employee loyalty was a heck of a drug.

“Ah, great timing, and here I thought I’d have to go grab one myself-”

When he spun the chair around, he was greeted to the kid. He had a tray in his hand. Sitting atop it was a coffee, apparently handmade, and a muffin, chocolate chip from the looks of it.

“What’s this?”

The kid opened his mouth, then promptly shut it without uttering a peep. Vox rolled his eyes.

“You can answer when I ask you a question. What is this?”

“Black coffee, only a sip of cream. And a chocolate chip muffin.”

He peered at them, eyes narrowing.

“I’m not f*cking blind. I know what they are but what,” He gestured. “is all this?”

“You…you’ve been in here all day.” His ears folded behind him, granting him an odd insight into just torn up he seemed to be. “I notice you haven’t eaten anything for hours…and I thought, well, you know.”

“…where’d you get the coffee?”

“The coffee bar.”

“How’d you know what I liked?”

His ears perked up almost immediately, and a thin smile crept up on him.

“So I was right?”

Well that remains to be seen. He snatched up the cup, the need for caffeine just overriding caution. Sure, it might be poisoned, but the deadliest kind around here was Val’s kind, and Vox regularly makes out with the man. If it was going to kill him, it should’ve done so already. Now, that didn’t mean he didn’t do a secondary analysis, testing the coffee as he chugged it down. The results came quick, almost as quickly as the warm liquid hitting his stomach.

It was…coffee. Black, with just a sip of cream. Actually, this was better than the ones his assistant made for him on the regular. That’s…not what he expected.

How exactly had the kid figured out his order?

Not that he’d admit that he liked it, of course.

He made a sour face, looking at it like it had been poison.

“Disgusting.” He tossed his hand up before the kid made a move to take it back though. “But better than nothing I guess.”

He snatched up the muffin this time and took a bite. Okay, it was actually good. Warm still, the chocolate was melted slightly into the muffin. Their kitchenette wasn’t fully stocked, so he had to assume the kid used the ingredients from his cooking kitchen. A quick double check at least told him that the kid cleaned up after himself so…not so bad. Certain things were out of place and would need fixing before his next kitchen segment, but it wasn’t a bad price to pay, sort to speak.

“God, kid. Where’d you learn to bake? You should get your money back.” He snarked.

But, as he chanced a glance, the kid’s delicate smile grew slightly. His ears weren’t pulled back anymore. In fact, they flicked up with excitement. It was annoying.

“What?”

The kid’s attention flickered between the coffee cup and the remains of the muffin. There was pride drawing on his cheeks, almost turning them flush. He had to pull back the urge to shock some sense back into him.

“Well, why don’t you run along now? You’ve handed over your revolting-”

“But you’re eating them.”

He blinked. Did this kid just interrupt him? Him?

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing.” He quickly added. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t look sorry. In fact, he looked almost gleeful. Had he been among friends, Vox imagines he’d be bouncing off the walls. Even his tail was wagging like a dog.

And there was only so much disrespect Vox could take in one turn. Especially to his face. And despite the coffee and snack.

“Get. Out.” He sneered through his teeth.

That wiped the smile off the kid’s face. His ears tugged down again, and his tail pulled at the bottom of his legs. His eyes drooped as he nodded, bowing out. His head lifted only for a moment, peering at the aquarium. Vox couldn’t see it directly, but the mirrored image of him in the glass seemed to wag a friendly finger towards his man-eating friends. He didn’t stop walking though. The door hissed shut as he left, giving Vox back his space.

The coffee was warm on his hands. The warmth seeped into the very soles of his shoes as he took another sip. You’d think he’d be used to the cold now, since he often kept this room colder than others to save his monitor’s the extra workload of having to cool. But heat was something he craved, just like moths crave the moon.

He bit into the muffin again. When was the last time he had a chocolate muffin? He can’t remember. He should look back into the security footage, steal the recipe for his next dessert special. At the very least, he needed to write it down so that when his assistant does finally reform, he can have it whenever he wants.

Work called back to him again, even as he polished off the muffin. The coffee made the extra time bearable, as usual. Not great, but better.

The news was the usual assortment of dramas. Another turf war has broken out, pitting southeastern kingpins against each other in a violent exchange that encircled the block. Fifty eight dead so far, but who counts death that aren’t permanent anyways? His new headsets were doing wonderfully, and the fakes were proving themselves to be both a disappointment and, as Velvette keeps tabs on such things, akin to social suicide. It was Voxtek or nothing.

And not to worry, they should have new shipments coming soon! It’ll only cost an arm, a leg, or a soul.

The bitterness of the coffee held back the sweetness leftover from the snack.

Alastor was asking around now, about the kid. He caught him disappearing to the cannibal part of town, old stomping grounds to him. There were less cameras there, but he didn’t need them to know that he’d be visiting his old gal pal. Rosy, for all else that she was, knew a lot of gossip. Gossip that, ironically, really wouldn’t help here. Alastor should know that. The kid wasn’t even close to there when Vox’s men picked him up. Was he dragging his feet? He seemed less enthusiastic about the kid’s safety than Vox would’ve expected. They had seemed close. Well, as close as any of those deadbeats seemed to be. Alastor wasn’t the type to purposefully turn his back on a friend…or potential ally. Then, he considered how similarly he was treated once upon a time. Close enough to seem close, but never enough to truly care. For a moment, he wished the coffee was more bitter.

Finally, after a few hours slipped into a few too many, Vox was done with today. The rest had to wait for tomorrow. What was the point of being an Overlord if he couldn’t draw the line where he wanted? Oh, wait, no. That project needs to be reviewed and-

He caught an odd alert. Someone was looking something up on his T.V., something not in the library.

Sitting there on the couch, the newest waste of time sighed to himself as his search yielded no results. Vox tapped into the camera just in time to hear him complain.

“Oh, come on! He has to have it here somewhere. It was his show.”

A show of his? He brought up the search.

Well…it was one of his, one of his first ones. Back when he was still fresh off the hooves of the mortal realm fads. It was a sitcom of sorts, featuring characters dealing with life in a POW camp during the war. It was so old; it was still filmed in black and white. Half the actors in it had died to exterminations. One had drained his career down the bottle and drugs. Another had faded into obscurity when he refused to sign on for a different project, an insult Vox treated kinder back then.

It had been fun though, at the time. One of his first big breakout shows. People ate it up. Until times changed and tastes changed and no one wanted to hear about that war anymore. Vox got with the program. He wasn’t about to let an opportunity slip.

Unfortunately, that was the end of his first experiment. He gave it one last episode, ending like any other, before moving to the next thing. It’s too bad too. He’d been hoping the end of that show would showcase the actual end of the war, but…well…as he said, times had changed.

So, what was the kid doing looking it up? He hadn’t the slightest clue.

The kid kept digging, trying to find it on his streaming, his internet, even digging through the cabinet looking for DVDs. He wasn’t going to find anything. Once everything went to digital, that was the end of the DVDs.

He had half a mind to call Velvette up and tell her to watch her pets. In fact, he was going to but…his fingers curled around the warm mug.

Ugh, fine. Whatever.

A ping noise popped over the T.V., making the kid jump to attention. Look at that! All eight seasons of the show just got downloaded onto the platform! Aren’t you lucky?

He’d not seen so much joy in someone down here in a long time. Like, childhood giddiness. He was smiling like it was Christmas and the first present he opened was the one he wanted all along. It was odd, to say the least.

“Yes!” The giddiness spread to his legs now, and he could barely keep from leaping off the couch as he turned it on.

The intro song played. It was a chipper tune, playing along the lines of the old marching songs but lighter toned for general audience viewing. The kid knew every beat of it, and he twitched his head to the drum. Personally, it’d always been an earworm for him. That’s one of the reasons he went with it. Anything that could stay inside your head all day was something you’d give another watch later.

But, again, it’s been a while since any of this aired. It made sense that he’d still remember the beat. He invented it. The kid had no reason to know it, not this well. Maybe he heard about the show from some old sinner lurking about, that he could kinda understand even if he didn’t get the fascination with it. But knowing the song?

The more he watched, the more he realized that the kid wasn’t just excited to see the show, he was a fan of it. He knew the characters, knew the catchphrases, knew the twists. Hell, he seemed to know most of the episodes in general, from guest stars to side plots.

By the time he’d finished with work, the series was up to its last season. It’s this one the kid fell asleep watching. Vox wasn’t even sure the kid ate anything this whole time. Vel and Val were still out partying or whatever at this ungodly hour of the night. Given how he hasn’t moved at all, he can only imagine that Velvette abandoned her little toy or, worse, expected Vox to make sure he was still alive by the end of the day.

Speaking of food, he’d need some himself. The coffee was gone hours ago, and the muffin felt like a lifetime away to his stomach. He could make himself something. Hey, those cooking shows weren’t just an act. But that would require so much more work than he felt capable of right now.

He dragged himself away from his monitor room, his pet sharks darting about for one last look at their owner before the doors slammed shut again.

Was the meatloaf he made the other day still there? Probably not. Anytime Val smokes too much, he devours any leftovers that managed to make it the day. The bar had some snacks stocked in it, some for Velvette and some for bar prep, namely lemons, limes, and small accompaniments. At this point, he’d eat a whole f*cking tree of lemons if he had to.

When he got to the longue, episode eighteen of the last season was playing. He remembers filming that one, where the POWs snuck out dressed in drag to pretend to be army nurses for the other side. At the time, even in hell, the drag caught people off guard, mostly because Vox made sure it damn well looked convincing. He snickered to himself as the lieutenant asked if the outfit complemented his figure. That was an adlib. The actor actually asked to keep the costume afterwards. Vox obliged.

Okay, now, bar.

He found some of the spread snacks lying about: crackers, chips, and different cheeses. He also found the whiskey, which he needed after a day like today. He grabbed them all and sat at the coffee table, just as the characters flirted past the guards to get to the secret plans hidden in the hospital. Ordinarily, they try not to eat here, on account of the expensive furniture and because Vox himself has made a habit of standing on the furniture when he got too excited. But with both of them gone, he didn’t care.

As for the kid, well, he was too small to take up much space on the couch as it was. That, and he was curling up as much as possible, so he hardly took over much more than elbow space. He sat down beside him, eyes unfocused and starting to drift.

In the world’s worst excuse for a sandwich, he smushed a piece of cheese, the kind didn’t matter, between two crackers. He downed about twenty of them before he reached for his whiskey. Yeah, there definitely wasn’t enough of that for tonight. He finished the bottle way too fast. Great. Well, better get back to the crackers. Otherwise he was gonna have a massive migraine later. And that just wouldn’t do with the morning news!

God, he needed another drink-

“Do they get out, in the end?”

He almost spit the crackers and cheese out like a rocket. Thankfully he didn’t. Velvette would throw a fit if she sat down and ruined an outfit on spit out, half chewed crackers.

“Where you just sitting here the whole time awake-?”

“Because the last episode doesn’t say if they got out.” As the kid pouted and, before he could even come up with an intelligent response, noticed the empty bottle and snack food. “…is that your dinner?”

If he wasn’t so tired and, admittedly a little tipsy, he might’ve snapped at the kid for talking over him, then not even giving him the second to think. As it was, the alcohol, the sleep deprivation, and growling of his stomach was making his mind a little too fuzzy to answer like he normally would.

“I dunno, kid. Didn’t think too much on it.”

“…regarding the show or dinner?”

He blinked slowly. It didn’t make the world stop spinning.

“Both. I think both.”

The kid went silent for a moment, just enough time for him to sit up a little bit more. Geez, was he always that small? Was it just his stupidly big ears that made him look bigger?

“I can only make muffins.” The kid announced randomly.

He swears his processors were lying to him. He did not just say that.

“…What?”

“Lucifer taught me how to make muffins, but I haven’t figured out pancakes yet. Do you want PB and J?”

“The f*ck are you on about, kid?”

“Everybody says hangovers suck, and that it’s worse if you don’t eat anything. You want crust or no crust?”

The alcohol was swimming in his brain too much. The kid had a point. He’s drunk too much and ate too little. What would the viewers say tomorrow if Vox, the Vox, looked like he drank himself stupid the day before? Logically, his numbers automatically fed back to him, he should eat something.

But his mouth wasn’t running by his logistics, unfortunately.

“What do you mean, ‘everybody says’? What, you’ve never been hungover?”

The kid’s face pursed like he ate a lemon, or a girl with kooties tried to kiss him. Revolt, the kind that only kids had for stupid things like love, baths, and vegetables, tugged on his face.

“I make it a point not to drink anything I could run a car on.”

A deep throated laugh burst from him. He’s not even sure where it came from. It kinda just puked right out his mouth and filled the room.

“That was funny.” He managed between filling his lungs. “Where you always funny, or am I way too drunk?”

He doesn’t think he should’ve said that last part out loud now that he thinks about it. Thankfully the kid didn’t answer the stupid question with a stupid answer. Instead, a small grin peeked under his muzzle.

“So, PB and J?”

He put the bottle down, the empty clang of it echoing in the room. He forgot how quiet it was when everyone else was gone. He was so used to this being their space, their collective space, that any time spent alone felt…odd. The kid wasn’t much. Even drunk off his ass, he couldn’t really compare to having one of the other Vees here.

But, you know, he was funny. A bit.

And he offered peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Even the other Vees never offered as much when he was drunk, not that he remembers anyways.

“Yeah, kid. Go make me a f*cking sandwich.”

“Okay, but don’t watch the last episode without me!” He leapt up and over towards the cooking set. Again, he needed to chase his staff over and clean that up later, for tomorrow’s lesson. He was going to go over a filet mignon with red wine reduction sauce. That was the plan. Now, for some reason, he was wondering if he was better off showing how to make muffins.

The intro song played again. It was the last episode of the series. Nothing special, he didn’t get to have the grand finale he’d once envisioned. It was still as good as any other episode though. And no, he didn’t feel like waiting either.

The kid came back with the sandwiches about a fourth of the way through. He had removed the crust and sliced it down the middle to make two even triangles. It was a f*cking lunch his mother could’ve packed him for school. He was eating school lunch. He didn’t feel drunk enough to be eating school lunch, though he was just hungry enough to cave.

It was good, obviously. Hard to mess up PB and J, especially with his own ingredients.

“I told you not to watch without me.”

The kid huffed as he bit into a different sandwich, also peanut butter and jelly.

“Did I ever say I agreed to that?” He mentioned back.

“…you’re kinda a jerk.”

Of all the insults he’s taken: the curses, the lengthy speeches, the loudmouth screeching of a certain radio, he’s not sure he’s ever been called a ‘jerk’. It was so wildly immature, but not in the ‘I’m spouting whatever curse comes to mind’ kind of way. But, probably because he was drunk and because it wasn’t the usual cursing white noise it hit harder than expected. Like, he laughed, but there was a bitter edge to it.

“A ‘jerk’? Really? That’s the best you’ve got?” His toothy grin might remind one of a shark, though it probably looked less intimidating with peanut butter all over his teeth.

The kid shrugged.

“I don’t know. Just seemed to be the word that fit best, I guess.”

Somehow, that was even more insulting.

“…shut up.”

He did as he was told, staying quiet for a good couple of minutes, but Vox didn’t really talk much either. He usually loved talking in the middle of movies or shows, partly to annoy but partly to entertain when the watchability wasn’t there.

“Do you still have the sets from the show? I know sometimes people in Hollywood would reuse sets.” The kid asked, interrupting the silence. And giving Vox plenty to talk about.

“From this show? Nah. We used some of it for other programs at the time, but a lot of it was scrapped when we branched out into Sci-fi shows. The space race was a hell of a time for TV.” Notably, the kid seemed genuinely upset to hear that, though something about the sag of his shoulders told Vox that he expected that answer.

And, okay, he was still drunk and not thinking right.

“I’ve got the captain’s hat in my closet.”

The kid’s jaw snapped open.

“Really?”

Wow, he just wore his emotions on his sleeve, huh?

“Yeah, it’s got all the pins on it still too.” Why had he kept it? Even he didn’t really know the answer. There’s been a few times where he’d thought about throwing it away, like the rest of the old, outdated junk but…well, then there were moments like these. When drunk, he liked thinking about those stupid passion projects. It was better than focusing on more recent events, usually.

“That’s so cool!”

Well, that might be going a step too far.

“It’s just an old hat, kid.”

“From a classic show!” He argued. “It just sucks that Hell doesn’t have museums or something.”

His show as a dusted up old display in a museum? Even drunk, that sounded suspiciously like an insult.

“That’s because Hell is the museum, kid.” He flashed his teeth again. “Too many old bastards long past their time hanging around and dragging their f*cking heels. It’s all a museum and a f*cking zoo down here.”

To that, the kid didn’t seem to have an argument. He gave up a little sigh.

“You’d think people with knowledge from, like, thousands of years ago would be really cool.”

“Fossils.” Vox, now hitting a little too close to his chest, stopped smiling. “Just a bunch of f*cking fossils who are pissed off that the world didn’t f*cking stop turning when they died. Bunch of narcissistic assholes who think everything should revolve around them.”

The kid stopped mid-bite and just looked at him. After a moment, it started being pretty funny.

“Hey, the world actually does revolve around me!” He stated. The kid raised a brow and gave a slow blink of his eyes. “It’s true! If it wasn’t for me, nothing would’ve ever changed down here. Trust me, before I got to Hell, you would’ve thought we were in the dark ages.”

The episode’s outro played, a reprised version of the intro song. As the last episode though, it seemed a little slower pitched than he remembered, as if it wanted to go on just a little bit longer. It was an absurd thought, especially since all episodes fitted nicely into the exact TV slot allotted to them, with commercials. None of them were any longer than others. But this? It seemed longer. Did he do that on purpose? He doesn’t remember doing that on purpose.

He snatched the remote before the kid could. His eyes were dipping a bit from the need for sleep, and the co*cktail of PB and J and whiskey settling in his stomach. So, rather than take a chance on the remote, he flicked the signal between his fingers, telling the TV to put on a game show. Guess he still had old crap on the brain because the one that popped up was one of the ancient, prerecorded ones. That was back when TV was on more of a schedule, meaning that at some point in the night the broadcasts would stop.

It was a non-creative project, something he’d ripped off from a show he’d used to watch, except instead of trying to figure out someone’s job, you’d typically be figuring out how they died. Vox had found some pretty amusing ones over the years. One of his favorites was the guy who’d been reporting the weather and died when a fish leapt out of the water and smacked him in the face. Poor bastard wasn’t even sure if it was the impact of the fish that killed him or if it was falling off the dock and getting run over by a boat.

Some of the best ones resulted in sinners that looked really f*cking weird, because, apparently, part of being in hell was remembering, forever, how and what killed you. He remembered a guy that looked like his face was squashed by an old cartoony hammer because he’d actually died to a piano being dropped on his head.

Vox, of course, had been the host. Some other demons filled in the guessers’ positions, people who’ve long faded into the background of his mind. In this one, a demon resembling a polar bear wrote his name down and sat beside Vox as the questioning began.

“He got sliced by a hockey skate, didn’t he?”

Okay, color Vox surprised.

“How’d you figure that?”

“’Cause his fur looks like a hockey jersey and he keeps trying to hide his neck.”

Huh. He supposed that was true. Maybe he’d seen the episode before though. Maybe he was just lying. Well, there was one quick way to test it.

“Not bad. Alright, here’s a tougher one. How did I die?” He challenged. He better not say he got crushed by a TV. He’s heard that one way too many times, and he was sick and tried of people assuming he got knocked off like a looney tunes character-

“My guess would be a power surge.”

“…huh?”

“Well, I mean, you don’t look like you’ve got any scars on you, but you’re a kind of dark blue everywhere. And you short circuit the city when you get mad. So, my guess would be you got electrocuted or something.”

That was a first. Obviously, his death was a little more graphic and detailed than some random electrocution. Here, come watch the death of your favorite TV star! Live for one night only. Or alive for one last night only. And there were still people out there that thought the chair was merciful. Merciful, my ass. That sh*t had hurt.

“Couldn’t be further from the truth, kid. You really suck at this.” He teased. “But since we’re on the subject…”

There honestly wasn’t much to go on for the kid. He was used to having these answers behind an info card, rather than having to guess himself. Sure, constant practice showed some consistent things. He’s not sure how the fox part of his appearance played into things, but he could spot the pattern of his ears and arms well enough. The slight glint of his freckles reminded him more of taillights than of actual freckles. Also, he was a kid. What was the most obvious thought there?

“What? You go chasing after your ball and get hit by a car?”

The kid suddenly found interest in his feet, kicking them around like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Oh, he could picture it now. A stupid little kid on his way to school, playing in the street when all of a sudden-

“I got run over by an eighteen-wheeler.”

A What?

“Come again?”

“I was driving my car, took my eyes off the road for a second. An eighteen-wheeler had come barreling down the road going the wrong way.”

What the f*ck?

“Like, run over though? Not just crashed into the car?”

He nodded.

“I think that’s why I’ve got treads on my arms, legs, and ears. If you get my meaning.”

Holy sh*t. Like karma was a bitch and, yeah, obviously the kid was down here for…something but-

“Was it quick at least?”

The kid bit his lip, and his body curled closer to him.

“I…I just remember the headlights.”

He was lying. Vox knew that. Oh, f*ck, that’s a hard way to go. Plus, he’s a kid. He felt like his brain was running too many programs at once, never a smart thing to do while intoxicated.

“How old are you?”

“Um…twelve, I think. Maybe thirteen. I…I don’t really remember. Time’s so weird down here.”

Twelve? They threw a twelve year old down here with the likes of serial killers, sex offenders, and power hungry dictators? What the f*ck did he do? Did he accidently bring a super psycho into the Vee tower?

“Where you murdering other children behind the school cafeteria or something? How does a twelve year old get into hell? You’re not even alive long enough to do anything. Or big enough. Or have a functioning brain.”

“Can we talk about something else?”

“No, we are clearing this up right f*cking now. Why are you down here?”

He was not going to let this go. The last thing he needed was for a deranged little twerp like Alastor’s girl running around stabbing things. Sure, he hasn’t shown any of that yet and he did check into that loser’s hotel but he’s learned better than to trust that. If the kid wasn’t going to spill, he’d just make him, with a quick suggestion of course.

“I…I mean.” The kid shuddered, and he seemed to gulp down air. “I-I went for a drive. It was dark, and it was raining. I-I honestly d-didn’t mean to hit him! He just walked out from the woods somewhere a-and I-I-I didn’t see him.”

Oh. Well, that made more sense then. But damning a twelve year or thirteen year old for an accident? Seemed excessive, even to Vox. Usually he punished people for, you know, actual mistakes. There was the occasional f*ck up that couldn’t be ignored obviously, but he’d think kids would get a special pass, at least.

“So, what? You bury his body in the middle of nowhere?”

He shook his head.

“I just…I just panicked. I drove off…I…I didn’t even try to help.”

“…okay, then what? You lie to everyone and get someone else convicted?”

There had to be another reason…right?

“No. I only drove another few miles before the truck happened.”

Wait. Wait.

“You mean to tell me that you got damned to hell because of an accident? You? A kid?”

“…I…I think’s it more because I ran instead of helping-”

He said more but Vox toned him out because what the actual f*ck. No wonder hell was overpopulated. An accident? An accident was all it took to send an otherwise innocent soul to shack up with the murderers, rapists, and tyrants of the world?

You knew something was wrong when he thought that heaven or whoever was in charge of this nonsense went too far.

“I am not drunk enough to process this.”

“You’ve had two bottles already.”

He had? Huh. Where’d the second bottle come from? A quick look revealed that he was holding a bottle, a different one from the one on the table. Though, from his spot on the couch, it’s started to look like four bottles rather than two. Again, not a good sign.

A quick check of his internal clock told he needed to be in bed like two hours ago if he’d planned on getting up without issue in the morning. He went to stand, putting just the barest amount of weight on his legs when he felt them buckle. Okay, too drunk and too weak to walk. Brilliant.

“See that blanket over there?” He gestured to the same one the kid found yesterday, labeled with their logo in that warm flannel knit. It was on Val’s couch which meant it might not exactly be clean, but if he’d been scared away by that about Val, they wouldn’t be in their stupid little back and forth all the time. “Go get it.”

He did as he was told. Being sober granted him the ability to at least check it before bringing it over. In that time, Vox pushed around pillows, making a small wall that he planned to use as a rest for his screen. The kid held the throw out, and he wasted no time in tossing it over himself. He always had to make sure it didn’t accidentally cover his fans, least he overheats and really needs a tune up in the morning. Almost as soon as he laid down right, everything in his body seemed to be losing power. Feedbacks were starting to fail. Limbs started turning to jelly.

“Do I have to sleep on the floor again? It’s cold on the floor.”

“Kid, could you just shut up? I’ve had too long of a day to deal with this.”

“…is that a no?”

Sparks started flying about his face, some getting dangerously close to the blanket. By now, most of the casual fabrics lounging around their inner sanctum up here have been made fireproof. Live and learn and all that. That doesn’t mean he hasn’t been known not to melt a few of them when in a particularly bad mood, anger he tries to keep tight on a leash.

Except when he’s drunk. Like now. Which is a bit of a problem.

Calm down. You don’t want to set the tower on fire now, do you? No, you don’t. That’d be bad for the reputation, the brand’s reputation, and especially your reputation. You don’t want him to win again, do you?

Plus, you’d have to deal with pissed off Val and Vel.

He steeled his nerves and opened his eyes a bit.

“Clean this sh*t up and I’ll think about it.” He wouldn’t. He’d be passed out long before clean up would be finished.

“…pinkie promise?”

Were pinkie promises deals? He didn’t think so. Nothing in his database said they were.

“Yeah, sure.”

Despite the dark circles on his eyes, the kid was surprisingly springy. And trusting, because he seemed to just take Vox’s word on the matter. He caught him bounding around the table like a jack rabbit in his fading peripheral vision, his red fur blending in with the maroon hues of the cushions around. Right before everything went offline, he had an odd moment of clarity.

He was unarmed, drunk, passed out on the couch at the disposal of someone who would literally only gain from his death. It wasn’t like he was under contract. His guards wouldn’t be so stupid as to let the kid leave, but it’s not like any of them could reach him in time if, say, the kid poured the whisky into his outlet.

This is a bad idea, he concluded. Then he knocked out.

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

“Mr. Vox? Sir?”

“Huh?” His voice crackled over the speakers rather than his vocal cords. It ended up louder than he wanted it to be. His assistant nearly jumped out of his skin. Pad in one hand and the other on his headset, he seemed to be trying to find something else to do aside from shaking in place.

“T-the morning broadcast?”

f*ck! What time was it?

Wait. Where was-?

His eyes flicked about the room. Cameras swiveled in place, scanning the immediate area. Every drone, every lens, every goddamn phone and computer camera was dragged from whatever it was supposed to be doing for the moment. In an instant, he was in in Val’s studio, Vel’s design pad, the kitchen set, the main lobby, the elevator, even his monitor room. Thousands of eyes all working with the same goal, the same hive minded command: search everywhere. And he still couldn’t find him.

He stood up way faster than he should, the blood in his body not quite catching up with the adrenalin rush. Electricity vaulted from him like it was trying to run away too. His screen was twitching from the overload.

“Where’s the kid?”

“…kid, sir?”

He grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and dragged up. Vox was not a small demon. Sure, he wasn’t Valentino’s obscene height, but he was by no means short. His assistant was dangling in air, legs kicking with panic. Vox understands why. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s fried the brains out of someone using the same pose. But, for now, he opted instead to shake him like a throw rug.

“Yes, the kid! The same f*cking kid that’s been here for two days now! Where is he?”

“H-h-h-he’s with Mistress Velvette, s-s-sir.” He stammered. “S-she said had a s-show later today, b-b-but she wanted to spend s-some time with h-her gift. H-h-he should be in her room-”

“Do you really think I wouldn’t know if someone was in her room? He’s not there! So you better get those useless grunts out there and find him before I peel their souls apart-!”

At that moment, Valentino decided now would be the perfect time to barge in. Because the day was already starting out so smoothly. He stormed up the stairs like he was trying to see how many he could break on the way up. He kicked open the door with a hiss.

“Vox! What the f*ck? It’s too f*cking early in the morning for the high hats to be going off! You’ll burn my f*cking eyes out doing that.”

In his rage, he must’ve put a little too much juice into the tower. He dropped his assistant like a rock, stood straight, and smiled. He quickly leaned down, static fizzing through his speakers.

“Your job. Go do it.”

He was out of the room before Val even walked to the couch.

“My apologies, Val. Been meaning to have that wiring looked at. It really shouldn’t be so sensitive.” He readjusted his vest and corrected his antenna. He might still look like he just woke up, but you’d never tell from his performance.

Val, for his part, just took a big drag of his cigarette, smoke curling around the ends of his mouth. It was already half puffed through. Val was a heavy smoker normally, but not usually so early. Aside from that, he had his weight shifted to the side, leaning more so than he might if he was posing. He seemed restless, for lack of a better term. That, in addition to screaming at Vox this early in the morning…yeah, no. This had nothing to do with lighting.

“Yeah, no f*cking kidding! Ruined a perfectly good shoot cause the whole place was blinking like a rave! Couldn’t see a damn thing!”

Oh, boy. Here it comes. Trouble. Probably in the pink spider variety.

“Shooting this early, huh? Then I assume-”

“What are you looking for anyway?”

That shook his composure for a moment. Look, Val wasn’t stupid. Well, not in every regard. He knew better than most that the man had certain things he was a bit too scarily informed about, even for Vox. Usually this applied to his particular brand of expertise, but sometimes he does things like this. Vox doesn’t give ‘tells’ anymore. Not when he’s ‘on air’. What’s going on in his brain is purely his own machinations, and he likes it that way.

Ordinarily, no one would blink an eye at the cameras all swiveling about, especially after Alastor returned. It was expected that he was just a lot more attentive now. He had to be. How or why Val knew he was actively looking for something was concerning. Since when did he get predictable?

“Oh, that. Vel’s little pet ran off and I was just trying to-”

He stopped midsentence, a question now clawing into his head.

“…why do you care?”

Valentino doesn’t care what Vox does. This would be a ‘Vox’ problem. Since when has he ever bothered or cared whenever the issue didn’t involve him in some way?

Val’s wings twitched visibly, as if his coat gained sentience and bristled on his behalf.

“Because this little experiment of yours is becoming a problem. And I am f*cking tired of cleaning up after it.”

I..he…what?

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, don’t pretend like you didn’t hear me. I know you’ve got every audio upgrade in the world stuck in that head of yours.” He toyed with the fuzz of his collar. His heels clicked against the tile floor as he turned and took his spot on the lounge.

“Val, I’m not sure you understand. The kid is Velvette’s-”

“Yes, yes. I know. Her new stress ball. Here’s the thing. Her new toy is making my old one act out. Every day he comes in bitching about it.” Another long drag of smoke later, and Valentino was starting to puff out designs, mostly hearts. “He asked to speak to you, you know.”

One involuntary twitch later, Vox was back in default mode. Angel Dust didn’t speak to Vox. They’ve never wanted to speak to each other. His grin was sharp and tense. Red lines might be dripping down past the side of his mouth.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, he’s under the impression that you might know where the kid is, since you see everything.”

There was a smile playing at the edge of Val’s face, no doubt thinking of some dark concession Angel made for even daring to ask Valentino to bring Vox into this for help. Desperate, it read to Vox as desperate. It was now, what? Three days missing? What exactly did they think would happen to the kid in three days-?

Well…kidnaping, for starters. Threatened with bodily harm, extortion, and dubious enslavement to name a few things.

“…you want me to speak with him?”

Val threw his hands up, like the surprise had just revealed itself.

“You’re so smart, Voxxy! Here’s the deal: you give the kid back to Angel, and babycakes comes back to the tower.”

“You told Angel he was here?” That would be bad on so many fronts. As he said before, he didn’t need the mess from Lucifer coming in here and demanding him back. Secondly, Velvette would not be giving up her prize without an argument…possibly a brawl. Which they did not, currently, want with the Devil.

“Nothing like that! Didn’t want the prissy princess knocking on our door after all. Angel and I just came up with an agreement. If you ‘find’ and get the kid back to him, he’s gonna come back to the studio, full time, just like it used to be. It’s a win, win, darling.”

“A ‘win, win’? It’s not a win, win if you’re losing something to gain something else, Val.” There was something here he was missing. He wasn’t used to that in his conversations with Val.

Val feigned nonchalance badly.

“It’s bad for our image to have a brat running around here.” He started, using an argument more at home on Vox’s tongue. “We got our use out of him. You got your headsets and Vel got her pictures. I say we get rid of the garbage and get back a gem of ours.”

Val…Val doesn’t like the kid. No, worse than that. There was an underlined vitriol there, small skulls hidden among smoking hearts. He hated that kid. He’s never spoken a word to him. Vox is pretty sure they’ve never even been in the same room as each other.

It felt like a small cold spike hit him at the nip of his neck. He’s not even sure why.

It could be because he didn’t think it was all that great of an exchange. They have no promises from the kid, no contract that would keep him from blabbing everything off to the others of that sh*tty hotel. There’d be no excuse for them not to get a royal breaking down the door for the kidnapping. It could very quicky and very easily get ugly.

There was also the fact that he didn’t want Angel back. He was less of a problem when he was gone. He wasn’t constantly in Vox’s direct vision anymore. He didn’t have to see him every single time he went down to Val’s studios. He could actually talk to Val now, without Angel having to be on his f*cking arm.

The weirdest thing though was the stupid, drunk memory coming back from last night. Twelve f*cking years old, and he knew Val was just going to rip him apart in front of Angel’s eyes. He’d give him over, only to pull his pistol and fire until he was satisfied. He’d do it, no hesitation. It wasn’t anything new to him, and nothing he hadn’t threatened to do to Angel’s pig before. From the drip of poison falling off the edge of his teeth, Vox could practically smell gun smoke.

“It’d be so easy.” He said, interrupting Vox’s thoughts.

There was so much venom laced in his words.

And for what?

He collected himself. He had more than enough logical arguments for why this was a very bad idea.

“Glad to see you’re taking the initiative in protecting our assets, truly, Val. But I think your missing the bigger picture here-”

The anger was more explosive than Vox expected. He felt like he just tripped on a landmine.

“I’m not missing anything! You think I don’t see what happening here?” The smoke came out like a dragon breathing fire, and even Vox had to pull slightly away. “You’d rather take Velvette’s side than mine. After everything we’ve been through!”

“I’m not taking sides.” He kept his voice even or tried to, as much as possible. Hard to do when he felt like coughing every other word. “But you should consider-”

Val rose to his full height, his wings slightly unfurling. It was mostly for show. He knew that. Valentino felt larger when his wings were fuller, which meant his ego was bruised enough to warrant it.

“Consider this! You get that brat out of here or you can sleep alone!”

Calculations jumped between wires. Thousands of different possible ways to approach this popped up in a million lines of code. One seemed better than the rest. Force the kid under contract, under Velvette’s beck and call. Send him on his way and get Angel Dust back for Val. Let everything here be their little secret. That was the best outcome, the best step forward, the best concession.

It should’ve been so simple to explain. So…why did he hesitate?

It was just a moment, a stupid, uncertain breath.

But it had been enough time for Valentino to erupt.

….

On days like these, he just stayed plugged in. He could make himself look like whatever he wanted over the TV. It’s so convenient, having lines, set, and makeup accessible with the snap of the fingers. Up all night drinking? No problem! No one can even see the bags under your eyes in cyberspace. Overworking your systems to the point of failure? Nothing a minor edit can’t fix.

Your face bashed into pieces by your pissed off scorned lover? Meh, not as if anyone can tell. Every single copy he projected looked just as spotless as he had this morning.

That didn’t change the fact that, every once in a while, glass shards, bits of his screen, fell into his actual, physical lap. While his cyber copies went over the recent sports games, his gaze drifted off to his aquarium. Inside, his sharks were viciously circling. The hammerhead had ripped another chunk out of their breakfast and was currently striving to keep it away from the tiger shark. Its success was about a fifty fifty split. The tiger stole an arm, and, in the crossfire, the fingers were ripped free. They drifted down, right past his console. The smaller baitfish darted in and out for the occasional snack.

It was another reminder of things that haven’t changed. The bigger fish eat their fill, the small have to fight for scraps. The philosophy of life didn’t change much, even when you died. Which all the more explains why it’s the old guard fighting against progress. Evolution wasn’t an idea people wanted to accept for a long time.

For a moment, he thought back to a conversation he had with Alastor, back when they were still on speaking terms. Funny enough, he’d used Vox’s own pets to poke holes in his theory. He’d mentioned that, if what scientists had said was true, then wasn’t the shark a very obvious and glaring exception to this silly little theory? They’ve had the same role since they first popped up, and practically stayed the same for millions years. Surely, if things were constantly changing, his pets would be so different compared to how they are. So, naturally, it must all be noise.

He’d always say it like that, like science and theories were nonsense children played with. As there was magic and demons and angels running about, he understood at the time why’d Alastor thought that way. The supernatural was scary, big, and intimidating in ways people just weren’t. Of course, Al had died back when the airplane was a brand-new toy and air raids where the scariest thing humans could be capable of.

Vox was alive to see the bomb drop. Alastor’s entire body count, here and on earth, made negligible in the span of seconds.

Sharks weren’t the same as they had been back when they first sprung up. Same basic function, sure, but it’s viciousness, advantages that drove change. It was better to be smarter, to diversify, to eat whatever and whenever you could. Being picky and unwilling to adapt turns you chum eventually.

He hadn’t said that at the time though. He still thought they were friends after all. Instead, he offered a different, perhaps even scarier idea. Since hell was real and humans haven’t been around all that long, had the angels just been content to watch animals kill each other for millions of years? Whose idea was it to introduce hunger to the world?

Alastor hadn’t had an answer for him. He had pointed out the hilarity of it though, that hell was just earth before man. Just a bunch of animals eating each other.

He almost missed those weird conversations. They weren’t the kinds of things he could talk about with Valentino or Velvette. Val would tell him to have a smoke. Vel would probably respond with a meme.

His screen glitched as he accidentally brushed an exposed segment. Pain shot up and about the circuitry. It was the closest he could get nowadays to touching a bruise on his face. Though, most people don’t run the risk of accidentally cutting themselves on their faces, puffy or not.

Hm. Serves him right. He should’ve just done what he had in mind. He should’ve gotten the kid under contact day one. Then, this wouldn’t have been an issue.

The doors opened with a metallic whoosh, the tell-tale sounds of his terrified assistant putting on the floor.

“Would you put me down? I can walk, you know.”

“M-Mr. Vox, sir! I’ve found him.”

Vox’s claw dug into the chair. Yes, technically, he had asked for him to find the kid. He can’t maim him for listening to orders. But the very last thing he wanted right now, was for the source of all his recent troubles to be in his personal space.

If it wasn’t for him, his face would still be in one piece. He wouldn’t be down a brand-new screen and having to wait for literal days to get it replaced. He wouldn’t be treading the dangerous waters between his two fellow Vees. He wouldn’t be trying to figure out how to navigate this stupid secondary deal of Val’s and Angel’s. He wouldn’t have to stress about the idea of Angel being back full time.

He was on top of the f*cking world not three days ago. And now…

The screens around flashed red for a moment. His assistant all but dropped the kid and fled the room. He knew all too well what all that meant.

The kid didn’t. Obviously. Because he started walking over, stilling only to observe the corpse floating about the water.

“Um…who’s that?”

“That,” He started, his voice unhinging as his frustrations kept building. “is what happens to people who waste my time.”

His fingers tapped against the metal, making a harsh, sharp sound. Current pulsed about, feeling to him like a wire about to snap and lash out of control. Small pains in his face pinched like exposed nerves, getting worse and more numerous with each passing second, but Vox’s patience was too far gone to care.

“What did he…I mean-”

“What did he do?” Vox finished. He supposed his voice was teetering a little too close to the preverbal edge, because the kid stopped walking towards him. “That there is my assistant, the one whose specific job it is to stock up on the usual necessities of Vee tower. If something is needed, he fetches it. If something is missing, he finds a replacement. And if something is broken, it’s his job to get it fixed.”

Sparks started bouncing between screens, flickering them. Some stray arcs dashed up towards the ceiling, causing havoc with the aquarium lights. Every couple of seconds, the room would get ungodly dark, illuminated only by the glow of shark teeth and his own screen peering into the abyss. He stood up from his chair.

“Well, something did get broken.” His tone still sounded friendly, on paper. “And it can’t be fixed at the moment. So, whose fault is that, hm? The man who was supposed to make sure it did get fixed…”

Volts burst about him in streaks of light. His physical form splintered into pieces, ripped apart by the power of screaming energy. As lightning, he was too fast to see, to comprehend. The thunder that followed in his wake shook the tower. In the time it took him to burst into creation there on the catwalk, the kid hadn’t even had time to take a breath.

Thousands of screens bore down on them, projecting blazing red views of Vox’s anger and the kid’s own terror from every angle conceivable. Oh, what a film it would be! It was the making of a perfect horror flick. Slasher flick, of course. The kind where no one made it out alive.

“And the stupid child that broke it in the first place!”

His red, hypnotic eye dilated in fury. Half of his body still felt like it was lightning, fighting against itself to stay in one place. The rest felt cold like ice, a sheet of hollowed flesh and metal. Oh, Tin man, did you ever have a heart to begin with?

Red dripped down from the side of his screen, as it always does when he gets himself too worked up, too enraged, too excited. His smile grew too wide for his face, teeth stuck between phases existence. All the while, the shattered sections of ruined glass contorted and bent every pixel of his face into some nightmarish creation. Like a deranged dog, his expressions flickered between a sickening sadism and malicious mania.

The kid’s hand flew up to his face, catching a scream in his throat. His pupils dilated with fear, the kind that Vox had been owed this whole time. Tears welled in his eyes and pooled at the corners of lashes.

This is the respect he should’ve had. This was how he was supposed to be treated. His name should breed dread in the soul, bring your body to quiver with horror. He was f*cking Overlord Vox! If he wasn’t going to be given respect, he would take it. He-

“Are you okay?”

Something numbed just then. A million different angles, of a trembling lip, of tears streaming down his face in rivulets, of his chest heaving and unable to keep a steady breath, it was all the perfect shot right before the killer’s knife.

It was terror. It was the very definition of terrified.

It just had nothing to do with Vox. Or, rather, it was nothing Vox was doing on purpose.

“Are you hurt?” The kid’s voice cracked with strain. And, suddenly, he wasn’t standing still anymore. He quickly wiped his tears best he could and grabbed Vox by the hand. It was so gentle, like Vox was one who might shatter at any time. “Y-you need to sit. S-should I call a doctor? D-do you have any electrical tape?”

The numbness prickled like a limb that just fell asleep, nothing but nerve endings failing to send anything but signals of stinging. That’s what this was, stinging everywhere. His hand hurt to hold. He was guided back to his chair, without a single thought of input. He was too dazed to understand.

What had just happened?

The kid reached around, looking under and about the different units. He found the emergency tape, the one Vox personally stores. Almost immediately, he jumped up on the arm rest and started pulling the worst bits together. He saw him cut himself a few times, red dripping down from tiny fingertips. It streaked bright against dark fur.

Looking at it for too long flipped his stomach.

“There. I think…I think that’s the worst of it.” The kid muttered, though he’d not sure if he was talking to himself or Vox. “But we really ought to figure out how to repair it ASAP. The impact left a dent on the interior screen and that’s not something the tape can really help with. Do you, um, heal normally or..?”

“…no, I…I usually have to replace them.”

“Do you have a spare?”

How did this conversation get here?

“No, that’s…that’s what I tossed my assistant in with the sharks for. Are you seriously not afraid of me?”

The kid looked at him, shock on his face.

“What? No! You’re hurt! Like, really bad. I’m not really an expert on cybernetics or anything, but I don’t think I’d feel good or be in good mood if my face was split in half.”

A good mood? Really?

“I fed a man to my sharks.”

The kid cringed.

“Yeah, okay, granted. That’s, um, really not good.”

“But you’re not afraid of me? You do realize I was going to feed you to my sharks, right?”

He paused for a moment, scratching the fur by his cheeks. His ears fell a little at his words, but he offered up a pathetic smile, nonetheless.

“I’m not sure I’m really all that good to eat. They’d probably be choking up hairballs for a week.”

“I’m being serious.” He hissed.

“…I know but…I mean, I was afraid. A bit. But…then I saw all of that and…um…” The kid bit the inside of his lip.

Numbness gave way to an emotion Vox was much more familiar with. Now, he was just pissed off.

“You think I want your pity?” He smiled too wide, and some of tape ripped. “You, haha, you think I’d give a sh*t what you think? Haha, oh, kid. That’s just pathetic!”

“…why do you think that someone caring about you is pathetic?”

Oh, that one felt like a gut punch. Knocked the wind out of him and set him spiraling. The kid put more tape on the part that ripped.

“I’m sorry, by the way.” He said, all of a sudden. “I’m sorry you got hurt because of me.”

His fury was ripped from him. Every ounce of him that wanted to lash out at something, anything, to get it out of his system just vaporized and flew away. What the f*ck was he doing, threatening children anyways? What was his plan here? Brutalize him? Velvette would be pissed because her toy was gone. Valentino would be pissed because his deal would fall through. His stupid hotel mates would be pissed because, you know, murder. And he’d be mad with himself because, goddamnit, he’d be stuck with mental image of beating up a defenseless child.

See this? This is why you think before you act, Vox. This is why you’re the brains of the Vees: the connective tissue, the thing keeping everything in working order, and the one responsible with making sure all this sh*t keeps running.

Being emotional trainwrecks was his co-workers jobs.

He waved the kid away from his face. He did pull back, and dropped down next to the chair, allowing Vox some time to collect himself before looking him in the eye again.

“Where were you this morning anyways?”

“Velvette thought it’d be funny if you couldn’t find me, so she stuck me in the oven.”

Oh, yes. Sure. Why not? Hope it was hilarious, Vel.

“Where you there the whole time?”

“She gave the impression that I wasn’t supposed to move, unless you were going to start preheating the oven.”

Yeah, that sounds like Vel. He nodded along, trying not to acknowledge his reflection, a mosaic of glass, tape, and the smallest cuts of blood.

“You know, I think a lot of these screens are the right size and make. Why not just use one of them?” He asked.

“Hm? Oh, that. Well, contrary to popular opinion, this head of mine isn’t just any old TV.” He started presenting like he would on commercial, only more tired. “I’ve had every mod and upgrade installed, the best speakers, direct wifi connectivity, complete automation of any and all Voxtek products directly from my thoughts, the works. Making a new head takes time. Lots of it. Every piece has to be specially ordered to my specifications, installed, then run through about a hundred different redundancies before I’d even consider switching over. That’s why I was so pissed off. Because now I’m stuck with this until the new one is finished, and who knows how long that will take.”

The kid’s face squinted.

“…but you don’t have to make all new circuitry. You can just rewire a new screen with the original parts.”

“…come again?”

“Whoever told you that you have to make all new parts every time a screen broke is wrong. I fix TVs all the time, old ones and new. It’s pretty simple.”

Vox knew a lot about tech. He kinda had to. But for this one, specific thing, he actually kind of required there to be another person’s opinion, since he can’t exactly install himself by himself (yet). The engineer that he relied on for so long had lot of explaining to do.

“I was under the impression that some of it was built into the framework itself.”

The kid shook his head.

“Nah, that’d be silly. That’d mean that every single TV would have to be wired differently because of size and stuff. It’s just easier to have universal screens and plugs.”

You know what? Maybe his anger wasn’t quite spent. But he’s certainly picked a better target.

“…you said you repair TVs?”

“Yeah, all the time. I like fixing things. I’m, like, the unofficial handyman back at the hotel!” He beamed in pride again.

“Isn’t it Alastor’s job to make sure things work?”

“Yeah, but Al’s idea of wiring comes from a time when DC current was still being used. I don’t know about you, but I kinda don’t trust him not to accidently burn the hotel down…again.”

He laughed. It hurt to laugh, but he couldn’t help it. That sh*t was funny.

When laughs turned to snickers, and he composed himself enough to finally think, he started with a deep breath.

“Do you think you could do it?”

“Do what?”

“Change out the screen.”

“On…on your face?”

“Eugh. Yes, kid. On my face.”

His nails involuntarily popped out as he scratched his neck, nerves finally getting to him. He keeps forgetting foxes could do that, extend their claws similar to cats. Honestly, he’s now wondering why he hadn’t tried threatening with them earlier. Had he even taken a swipe at his grunts? He doesn’t think so.

“I mean, mechanically, yeah. I just don’t know how that works with being your face.”

He snickered.

“Kid, I am so much more than this.” He gestured to his body. With a snap of his fingers, he cut across every screen in the place. Living electricity, part of his very being, danced between the devices. “Even if you wanted to, popping off my head isn’t gonna kill me.”

Call him a hydra. There were simply too many heads to cut off before that was ever an option.

“Cool.” Awe peppered in there as his attention kept getting pulled about. “But, um, how do I…um…remove your head?”

“Oh, that? Easy.” With a simple motion, he ripped his head off.

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

“I don’t even like you right now.”

Vox had been laughing for far too long. This might be the most he’s laughed since Alastor had his ass handed to him by the angel prick. He finally found something that scares the kid, and all that was required was a little body mutilation.

The kid was currently rewiring the circuits into his new head, but he kept his gaze down the whole time. A deep scarlet of embarrassment was seeable even under his fluff.

“You, hahaha, you sound like a broken dog toy! Hahaha!” He hadn’t so much as screamed as he had made this high-pitched squeak of distress. Everything else was perfect, the horrified look, the freaking out, but that squeak ruined any of drama that Vox might’ve wanted to see. Now, he couldn’t help but think of the tossing the kid across the floor just to hear that stupid noise plink like a bouncy ball.

“I can’t help it! It’s a fox thing, I think.”

Oh, Vox knew that. Val squeaks too. His were subtler though, like a wet sneaker on a tile floor sound. Go figure, he had to go hell before he ever found out that moths and foxes apparently squeak. More news at eleven.

“God, that’s, hahaha, so pathetic. Haha!”

The kid rolled his eyes and went back to his work. Off to the side, Vox was making sure to record everything. While his body was still sitting down and hugging its sides, his face appeared across every screen that wasn’t currently being ripped open for repairs. He was keeping a close eye on the situation, I mean, it was his head after all. That and, if he saw how to do it, maybe he could attempt it by himself. Write some code for his body to follow, a series of pathways meant for this exact action. At least that way he wouldn’t have to rely on anyone to do this again.

Oh, the things he was going to do to his engineer later.

“Hey, um, do you know why there’s limiters on it?” He asked, bringing up a string of small black boxes he pulled from the backside.

Limiters? What hell was a limiter?

“Why? Something odd about it?”

“I mean, wasn’t the point of all these upgrades to give you more options? The limiters make it so there’s a cap on everything. The sound can’t get to max. The brightness can’t go above a certain degree. That sort of thing. Sometimes people use them when the system can’t take it, and it prevents burnout but…I mean this is as state of the art as possible. There’s no reason to have them here.”

Double dead, his engineer was double dead.

“If it doesn’t have to be there, no need to take up the space then.” He said, trying to be casual. The kid seemed to notice the twitching of his eyes though, so it’s not as if he couldn’t tell that he wasn’t…miffed by that.

The kid nodded in agreement and started unplugging them from the rest. About, the sharks had finished with their meal and were now lazily floating around. They always get like that after a large meal. One second, they were vicious man eaters, then next they were oversized house cats. For Vox, anyways. They hated just about everyone else.

“I like your sharks, by the way. Do they have names?”

“Anchor and Barge.” He said, his headless body pointing at the hammerhead and the tiger respectively. “They’d both eat you alive, you know.”

“After that meal? I don’t know. Sharks are pretty slow to digest things.”

True. Very true. He didn’t jump in there with them for obvious reasons, but he does find it easier for his aquarium workers to clean it up if they work right after breakfast or dinner…or one of them falls in around lunchtime and the rest wait until after the sharks were finished.

“So, you know about TVs and sharks. You’re a weird kid.”

“Yup.” He scanned his work, then stood up. “Okay, all done.”

What?

“All done?”

“Yup.”

“It’s been fifteen minutes.”

“I know.” He sighed. “Had to get all the limiters out. Sorry it took so long.”

It used to take all f*cking day. He had to plan for months when he was going to do a big upgrade. He had to reschedule appointments, hold off on any later announcements, and god forbid Vel or Val have any minor inconvenience that day. It was a nightmare to deal with. The only reason he was fine with doing it today was because he literally hadn’t had a choice. He couldn’t exactly attend business meetings with half of a face. That said, he fully expected to be in cyberspace even longer since, you know, it wasn’t his technician doing it but a literal child. A smart child, granted, but still.

“So…how do I put it back on?” He threw his hands up. “And please try not to scare the hell outta me. A little warning first, maybe?”

He didn’t get it. His body stood up like the headless horseman and lifted his new head up over his shoulders. Cables, wires, and what amounts to veins and arteries in him now, climbed up through his neck and into the new set. Like a horde of sentient worms, they twisted and slid where they needed to. From the outside, it might look like he was being possessed. Or that Vox was secretly a bunch of leeches all working together to form some form of being. As the last wires connected, he jolted into the electrical stream. In the span of milliseconds, he crossed every pathway, checked every system, and detailed every change.

The kid did a good job. A great job, actually. Huh.

The so-called limiters being gone was interesting. He really hadn’t noticed them at all, but now, it was as if he’d had a cold all this time and only just got over it. Turns out, his speakers could get even louder, and the frequency can get to spectrums even dogs couldn’t hear. The brightness was also absurd. He often liked to see Val’s face turn to mush when he turns it up in the dead of night, a part of being a moth he’s never really gotten over. Now, he feels like he could probably blind someone like that, if he wanted to. Power output was also insane. He could kill with it before, sure, but he’s not sure he’s had the ability to bypass other functions, essentially just letting specific parts of himself be almost exclusively energy if need be. If he had, he’s surely never used it before, probably because he would’ve been running the risk of having everything that wasn’t energy accidentally fried from the overload.

“Okay, I know it’s all wires and stuff, but that was pretty gross.”

“You still own your soul, right?”

The kid paused.

“Um, yes?” He said, then quickly added. “It’s not for sale.”

Vox laughed, a little more sardonic this time.

“Everything is for sale. The question is just the price.”

With the snap of his fingers, the whole room lit up with possibility. He could have fame and fortune, the applause of all, his own show, his name reaching the farthest corners of hell. He could have comfort and a place of his own, something he wouldn’t have to share and somewhere to feel like home. He could have security and safety, never again having to worry about the frivolous battles and vicious monsters they live with down here. He could give him any toy he wanted. He could track down any family he might have down here. He could pull some strings and send him upstairs for a time.

All these things and more played across the room like collage of different endings, each sweet and inviting. He could be walking the red carpet. He could be playing video games in his own penthouse. He could be safe in the arms of his mother or his father or whoever else might be out there looking for him. And he could stay here, in Vee tower. He’d even let him sleep on the couch.

“See? I could give you everything. Anything. And what would it really cost you? You’d work for me. Not a bad deal, huh?”

He looked tempted, especially by the idea of family. His eyes lingered there longer than any other. Still, he sighed and offered Vox a somber look.

“That’s a very generous offer, but I’ll have to pass.”

“You sure that’s wise, kid?” Vox teased, slowly working his way around to his side. He skimmed a hand on his shoulder. “Think of what you’re missing out on! Take some advice from me, when opportunity knocks, seize it!”

He wasn’t paying attention to the kid’s hands. All his focus was on his face, that’s where weakness shows. He didn’t account for the strength of a hand. His little paw reached up and grabbed Vox’s claw. He pulled it down slightly, now just holding it. He almost swayed with it.

“You don’t owe me anything, you know. I don’t mind helping out my friends.”

The screens all blinked out at the same time.

“We are not friends.” He said, pointedly. “I don’t have friends.”

He can remember hearing that, seemingly ages ago, from someone he really thought was one. The kid held on just a tad tighter.

“What about Velvette and Valentino?”

“That’s entirely different.”

“Well, I’m might not be your friend, but you’re my friend.”

“I…I was literally going to kill you not, like, an hour ago!”

“Yeah, so? Husk stole all my money last week playing poker. Nifty stabbed me in hand, like, three times the week before.” He mentioned offhand, like any of that was normal. “I mean, Alastor tried to eat me the day before you grabbed me, I’m kind of used to-”

“He is not your friend!”

He’s not sure who was more surprised by the outburst, the kid or himself. His face glitched at the idea of Alastor and any concept of friendship. Really? Manipulating children? Is that what the great radio demon has been reduced to? Yeah, sure, Vox was offering to buy his soul off of him, but at least he intended on fulfilling his end of the bargain.

His hand gripped tighter, and his claw unintentionally dug into the kid’s palm.

“Kid, if you learn nothing else from any of this, I want you burn this into your skull: Alastor will always look out for himself first. He will lie, cheat, murder, or be the most charming person you’ve ever met, as long as it benefits him. Nothing he says is the truth. And he will play anyone against anything if he gets something out of it. If hell was burning down to the ground, he’d step over everyone to be king of the ashes.”

“I…I mean he is…creepy sometimes. I know he lies a lot.” He stuttered.

He grabbed him by his shoulders, forcing him to look him in the face.

“Trust your instincts.” The swirls of his hypnotic eye danced with focus. He hadn’t even done it on purpose. Any time the radio freak pops up, he tends to drown out other thoughts. Oddly, the kid’s attitude didn’t change. His smile was gone now, but he was still giving him that stupidly soft look.

“Where you two friends?”

The bitter truth tasted like bile on his tongue.

“Alastor doesn’t have friends, kid.”

He only had pawns. Allies, maybe. And ladders to higher power. Everyone else was a waste of time.

“Well, you’ve got one thing now that he doesn’t then.”

I…he…ugh.

“Oh, shut up, kid.”

…

It was little surprise to him that Velvette and Valentino were waiting in their lounge, not so subtly sitting around as if they had nothing else better to do. He knew they were lying around, hoping he’d come out. Val might want to continue their fight, or at least marvel in his small victory with Vox’s broken screen. Vel, he can only imagine, wants to see Vox’s reaction to her stupid little prank. The better the reaction, the better the video it would make.

Surprise to all! Voxtek now presenting ‘You f*cked up!’: the show! Watch as two of hell’s strongest overlords sit there gaping like fish as Vox walked in, nothing but smiles and a clean screen!

The kid was quick on his heels, though he stopped a little short the minute he saw Val.

“Um, hey, Vee.” Velvette started. Her video was already rolling so she needed something for content. “You look good. Anything happen today?”

“Oh, worked on a few projects. Got some exciting things coming up for sure!” He offered a hand out towards Valentino. “Like Valentino’s new film. I’m sure he’s just about done shooting it. We’re all very excited by all the big promises you’ve made about the star quality.”

In truth, Val’s recent work was nowhere near done. He was always more interested in the actions on the screen than anything involved in actual screenplay. That’s part of the reason the scripts were always for sh*t. This particular project started off as more of a fever dream, and just started escalating from there. Vox knew, because of course he did, that Val was nearly out of time and also out of budget.

And he also knew who Val would go running to, to fix everything right before it gets released.

He took a big drag of smoke, and nearly choked on it.

“Uh…” Velvette almost looked apologetically at Val for turning the gun on him by accident. “I meant, did anything else happen today?”

Oh, he didn’t realize they were lining up for an execution today!

“Actually, yes! The strangest thing happened before!” He gently guided the kid forward. “I found this little guy all by himself, unattended! Who knows what could’ve happened to him if I’d not found him! Obviously, his owner was very negligent in his care. Now, I understand that she was very busy with so many important things to do today. Therefore, until she’s done with her little projects, I’ll take it upon myself to make sure he’s safe!”

Vel’s mouth dropped in silent agony. Careful dear, still being recorded.

Vox popped his bowtie, his collar flaring open and exposing his neckline. He slowly dragged his jacket off and tossed it over his arm. Val’s eyes dragged across his chest the whole time. He’s pretty sure he actually ate some of the cigarette.

“Well, I don’t know about you two, but I’ve had a very exciting day. I think I’ll turn in for the night.”

“W-what about food?” Vel said suddenly, grasping for a reason for him to stay.

“Tell my secretary that I’ll be ordering in tonight. I’m thinking Chinese.” He started to walk towards his room. The kid had enough sense to follow without argument, though he seemed less confident with Vox’s co-workers burning their gazes into their backs.

Val didn’t get his argument, his trophy shot, or his makeup sex. He was going to be angry and alone tonight. Vel didn’t get her candid shot of Vox’s embarrassment, instead making her come across like a joke. He didn’t expect her to post that video, if only to save face.

When the door to his room closed, he only just kept from laughing.

“Aren’t they going to be mad tomorrow?” The kid asked. He stepped into the room with uncertainty, like he was afraid to disturb the space.

Vox’s room, like his workspace, was pretty sterile looking, almost futuristically modern in design. He tossed the jacket into a side pocket on the wall. From there, his machines would wash it, press it, and hang it back up in his closet. A flick of the wrist, and the suite came to life with lights, stripes of neon blue that pulsed about. The hidden fireplace rose up from the floor, turning on with a hiss of gas. Off to the side, he could hear his bathtub prepping itself, turning on the warm water after an appropriate amount of fragrances were added to the mix.

He always thought it was a little silly of Val, constantly having his personal servants running around and doing everything for him like that. In the age of the electronic servant, why would you ever leave anything up to a human unless you had to? It was so much more trouble.

“They’ll be mad.” Vox confirmed with a nod.

“Isn’t that bad?”

He gave a quick turn, just so the kid could see the utter delight on his face.

“It’s only bad if you don’t know how to use it. And, trust me, I’ve lived with these two for more than long enough to navigate just about any thought in their heads. You’ll come to find that they’re dreadfully predictable when they’re angry.”

“Oh. Okay. I guess.” He muttered. “Are…are we still getting Chinese?”

Vox brought up the menu on his phone and let him shift through it. He already knew what he wanted anyway. He gave a quick point over to another setup of monitors, all of them hooked up for voice commands.

“Tell the computer what you want. It already has my order pre-programed. It’ll send a text to my secretary, and she’ll handle the rest. Just answer the door when she knocks. I’m taking a bath.”

With that, he left him to his own devices.

His bathroom smelled of sea salt and ocean breeze. Just opening the door made him almost nostalgic about his mortal days of summer, out on the end of the island. The tub was less of a tub and almost like a small swimming pool. Up above it, the ceiling was fitted to allow it to become a shower at any time. He didn’t often take showers, on account of his head being, you know, a TV, but he did like the kinetic energy it gave the room anyways. It felt a bit like he controlled the weather too.

He stepped down into the water and turned on the jets.

Oh, he needed this. Today might’ve started off like sh*t, but it was ending out on a high note.

Now then, the plan for tomorrow. Though he’s rested his body, letting the whirling water pull the knots from his muscles and batter down sore spots to the point of pleasure, his mind kept running. It was kinda a curse really. He never fully relaxed ever.

The miniature aquarium he had there, a circulating one of moon jellies, caught his eyes’ attention while his brain rambled on and his body unwound.

Aside from Vel and Val issues, he had one other major concern. The kid still wasn’t under contract. He tried tempting with sugar. That hadn’t worked. Close, but no cigar. That meant that, tomorrow, he was going to have to try the other way. Weirdly enough, he was actually, truly dreading it.

Not only was the kid hard to scare in general, apparently, but Vox kept feeling a little sick thinking about that broken cry, asking him if he was okay.

He seemed to care significantly less about his own, personal safety than he did for…his friends. And, unfortunately, Vox currently only had one of those on hand for use…aside from himself, he’d suppose. How would one threaten themselves anyways? Note to self, look into that. For now though, Angel was going to have to do, wasn’t he?

Ugh. This was going to suck. Buck up, Vox. You do what you have to do, nothing less.

His cameras informed him that his secretary just dropped off the food. She was a little gob smacked to be opening the door to the kid. Her shirt was opened three buttons more than appropriate, and her skirt about six inches too short. When the kid showed up in his place, she looked like she wanted to melt into the floor.

Food was calling. Time to get out.

Thankfully, his machines had a new warm robe ready for him. Val keeps stealing them and not giving them back. It’s probably because he makes sure they’re pre-heated before tossing them on, like fresh clothing from the drier.

He stepped out to find that his food was already put together for him, plate, silverware, and fortune cookie to boot. He wasn’t about to bet on who set that up, his secretary or the kid.

To his surprise, instead of finding him where he expected, over by the TV, he found him sitting and admiring the view from the broad, curved windows.

“Wow, you can see everything from up here.”

Vox grabbed his food and joined him, more out of curiosity than anything else.

“Well, I designed it like that.” He mentioned. “To be fair, I designed most of these buildings on this side of the pentagram.”

The skyrises made it feel more like home, if he were honest, which he never was.

“That’s…actually really cool. I’m lucky if I can get a card tower up.” Then, he spotted something familiar. “Hey! You can see the hotel from here!”

Sure, he supposed. He gets a better view from his drones. Speaking of, it seemed like they hadn’t had any more luck today than they had the last couple of days. The princess was in literal tears, both her girlfriend and her father trading off between comforting her. Angel Dust only just got back, his driver dropping him off not a moment ago. Vox didn’t need to turn up the audio to know that they were asking if he’d gotten anything useful today. The answer was no, obviously.

These people cared about him. They were distraught and desperate and thinking the absolute worst must’ve happened. There was a very, very small part of him that almost pitied that.

Then, a little anger bubbled up from nowhere. Why the f*ck did you let him go alone? Not f*cking one of you could’ve gone with him? Like, yeah, the worst did happen, but could you imagine if it was worse than that? Vox was bad news, obviously. But…so there so many worse things that could’ve happened.

That made feel gross, like the bath didn’t matter. Then he got mad because why did he feel gross? Then, he felt worse because why did even question why he felt gross? Then-!

“My fortune cookie insulted me.”

Oh, thank god. That rabbit hole was one he wasn’t going to crawl out of otherwise.

“What?”

“It says ‘Your life is a blockbuster of bad luck. Enjoy the Oscar’.”

“That is the best fortune cookie I’ve ever heard.” He might’ve wheezed, probably swallowed a chicken bone while he was at it.

“What does yours say?”

He didn’t actually eat the cookie. Most of the time he threw them away. He made his own luck but, well, when in Rome.

He unfurled the sheet of paper and began to recite it.

“‘Everyone you’ve ever stalked online had just been notified’.”

There was good pause, before they both started rolling. The kid coughed on his water, spewing out like a vaporizer. Vox tickled himself enough to accidentally pop a laugh track from his mix.

“Who makes these?” Vox rasped. “I need to get some for those two outside, hahaha!”

Memo from Vox to Vox, always order from that Chinese food place whenever he needs to lighten the mood.

They polished off the rest of their meal shortly, but they still caught themselves looking out the window. The embassy tower seemed so out of place now, sand dripping down to nothing, and a clock that didn’t keep time.

“It still feels weird that its over.” The kid said.

“Yeah.” He pointed at the building. “We should melt it down and turn it into a giant sign that says ‘f*ck you’ so they can read it from up there.”

“You know, I think Lucifer said something similar.”

Well, he now knew more about the king of hell than he thought he would. Great minds think alike and all that.

“Did you guys just hang out up here when it happened?” He asked.

“You mean extermination day? Yeah, of course. I’ve got every security feature in the world in this building. The place is basically a bunker when it has to be. It was just easier for those feathered freaks to go hunting for the easier prey on the streets.”

He shrunk, disheartened by something or another.

“Yeah, it was pretty scary out there.”

…hold on.

“Wait, you were out there? Like, on the streets? On extermination day? Are you stupid?”

“I didn’t really have a choice.” He argued back, ears flicked against his head. “I didn’t have anywhere to live back then so-”

“You…you lived on the street?” In Hell? That was-! I mean-! Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding!

He pointed down at a line of buildings you could just barely see. That part of town was all very old stores, secondhand electronics, and pawnshops. It was barely lit, and almost dilapidated. Last time there was a hellquake, two of the buildings collapsed in on themselves.

“Over there, next to that pawnshop with the ring on it, is a store that resells electronics. Most of the TVs are really old and not hooked up to the new system. The owner plays a lot of re-runs on them though, so people know they work. I used to live in the alleyway right next to it. The TV boxes were a lot thicker than the other boxes, you know?”

He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know.

“What did you do when they came in to slaughter everyone? Hide and hope they don’t find you?” His voice jumped up an octave.

“Yeah, basically. Or run. Also, I’m kinda of small, much smaller than they are so I could sneak into the pipes if I climbed down into the sewer. ‘Course then you gotta worry about gators, but at least when they get you, you’re not dead dead. Just the usual dead.”

“…why did you say it like that?”

“I mean, unless it’s cause of an angel, we don’t really die down here. It just…hurts, and you show up again sometime later…which also kinda hurts.”

It’s not ‘kinda hurts’. It’s excruciating. It’s akin to torture. That’s why it’s still a big freaking deal, and why people still don’t want to die down here.

“Did you-! Holy sh*t, do you die a lot?”

“Uh, I used to. Not so much anymore. When I first got dropped down here, there were guys who found me and made a game of hunting me down with their hellhound friends. I think they were British, but I’m not sure. They used to get me a lot. Then there were the usual crazies running around, that sort of thing. But I’ve been doing pretty good these past couple of years. I think years. Man, my idea of time is gonna get so bad without extermination day keeping me straight.”

“You’re twelve right?”

“Yup, or thirteen. I forget.”

“How long have you been down here?”

He thought for a second.

“Since the 90s, but I forget the year…Vox? You okay? Your screen’s bugging out. Everything feel okay with the circuits?”

30 years! A twelve year old in Hell for 30 years!

“Um, Vox. I-I don’t think your face should be doing that-”

Are they deranged? What the f*ck!

“Are they crazy? What manic torments a f*cking kid for 30 years?” It’s too bad he just replaced his face. He felt like he might need a new one in short order. “And you! You just let it happen? Put up a f*cking fight!”

He just stared.

“I…I am four foot nothing. I am fuzzy, with very tiny teeth and paws. I don’t have electricity powers or evil shadows or extra arms or anything. I just fix things. I’m good with cars. That’s…that’s all I have. I don’t think someone like me was meant to thrive down here.”

“How do you still have your soul? Why do you still have your soul? You could’ve soul it! Gotten something for yourself, anything!”

“What good would that have done?”

“A job. A place to sleep. I don’t know, kid. I offered a lot.”

“Yeah but…most of Hell owes their soul to somebody. They didn’t seem any happier than me.”

God, this kid.

“You know, part of being down here is indulging in the worst parts of yourself.” He explained like he would explain to someone who was braindead. “That includes getting mean, and even selling your soul.”

“So…what? I’m already down here so it’s not worth it trying to be nice or better?”

“Exactly!”

“That’s silly.”

Holy sh*t, he was just as bad as Lucifer’s brat.

“Don’t tell me you actually believe in this redemption bullsh*t. Please don’t tell me you let all this crap happen to you because you think you had a shot at getting into that fuzzy place.”

Blood trickled down from his mouth. Vox hadn’t even realized he’d stressed the kid out enough to bite down on his lip.

“Don’t tell Charlie.” He pleaded. “Please?”

“…Don’t tell Charlie what?”

“I…I’m not sure I believe it. On one hand, I kinda hope you can, but on the other hand…then…me being here isn’t a mistake. And I don’t know what else I’m doing wrong.” He gulped some air. “I joined the hotel because…even if we can’t get into heaven that doesn’t hell has to be that bad. If Hell really was a hell, it’d so much worse than this, right?”

For once, Vox heard something he could agree with. Hell sucked. No denying that. But…he’s lived through so much worse than this. As Alastor had once said, hell was what you made of it. And Vox chose to be on top.

This kid though? He shouldn’t have any hope left. He would call him delusional except…he was a kid. He was always going to be a kid. He’s never going to understand. He can’t.

He was robbed of his life. Thrown to wolves in his afterlife. And all he thought about was learning to be nicer to people. Because that might change something.

“That,” He said finally. “is a great way to get yourself killed. Try to be kind to the literal worst of humankind.”

“I’ve survived so far.” He smiled again, through a bloody grin. “I’m a kid, but I’m not stupid. I’m not about to go hug Jeffrey Dahmer.”

“You’ve all but hugged me.”

To that, the kid just beamed.

Well, he’s not Dahmer. That’s for sure.

You know, that’s more than enough emotional damage for today.

“Okay, time for bed.” He stood up. Over by his dresser, he tossed on his comfier set of pajamas. He grabbed a big shirt of his and tossed it over. The kid leapt up pretty high, catching and tossing it on before he even hit the ground. Agile little thing.

He all but collapsed into bed. The silk sheets felt so nice and smooth. He never loved his mattress more than when he’s been away from it too long. But, the second he settled in, he caught sight of the kid curled up on the floor by the window. Vox didn’t have much in the way of rugs or carpeting. He knew the floor was cold and…well…now with the mental image of the street…

“God f*cking damnit.”

Reluctantly, he got back up. He walked over, picked the kid up like you would a cat, then brought him back to the bed. He sat him at the foot of it, where Vox’s feet would be in a second, and he tossed him a spare blanket.

“You stay there. Don’t even think of crawling in next to me because that’s Val’s side of the bed and lord knows what you’ll catch from being there.”

With that, Vox called it a day. He dragged his wayward mind back to the items on the list for tomorrow: Velvette’s punishment, Valentino’s anger management, and the Val and Angel deal to name a few things. Also, track down that technician of his because he’s going to need to fry something after today.

His dreams got the better of him about halfway through the night, thinking of things that never wanted to crawl out of his head. Alastor’s mocking smile bearing down on him. Oh, stupid Vox. Don’t get attached now. Remember what I said about weakness?

His eye flicked open, only for a moment, when a wet nose touched his hand. The kid was still on top of his blanket, but he’d crawled up enough to let Vox’s fingers thread through the top of his head. He probably saw something on the screen that bothered him.

Whatever. He wasn’t awake enough to yell.

So, he went back to sleep. And when Alastor tried to tease him again, he told him to f*ck off. You’re just jealous because you don’t have one. Go die alone, you crazy shadow freak.

And he did, because dreams could be really sweet sometimes.

Chapter 7

Chapter Text

“Welcome to the show everybody! Hope everyone’s been having a marvelous week!”

Vox spun in his chair, greeted to the captive audience behind his televisions. The morning show was a fan favorite, always has been. Honestly, he takes a lot of pride in it. It’s just him for the most part, spouting off whatever relevant nonsense there was for the time. He gave a brief recap of what was going on in the world above, something he had to sneak in from sources that actually went up there. If he got a few details wrong, eh, no big deal. It’s not like anyone can fact check him down here anyways. For the newly introduced to Hell, it was a good way to grab their attention. And that only meant more viewers in the long run.

“Coffee’s done.”

The kid ran over into his monitor room, pulling his attention away from his cyber studio for a moment. The smell of warm coffee jumped up to greet him, and he gladly took it off the kid’s hands. Ah, as perfect as last time.

“Still a crap cup of coffee.” He said. The kid didn’t believe him anymore. He just swayed happily in place as Vox kept taking sips.

He kind of wanted to squeeze the ever loving hell of out him. He settled for roughing up the top of his fur.

“Hey, I just fixed that!” He tried to bat back the invading assault, but Vox had much bigger hands and a much longer reach. There was little he could do.

“Yeah? Complain to someone who cares.”

The programs went on, switching from news, to commercials, to the morning sitcoms. He noticed the kid paying attention to his spy drones’ footage, of his fellow hotel mates dragging themselves out to go look for him again. Alastor noticed the camera. He posed for it, the smiley freak. He flicked the footage away, switching it to the camera just outside.

Velvette was there, pacing. She was deciding how she wanted to start this, Vox knew. Was she going to try for the innocent act? Was she going to storm in raging? She had a hundred different faces for her followers, but Vox fell for exactly zero of them.

Delighted, he took another sip of coffee.

“Don’t say a word.” He told the kid.

Bang! Bang!

“Vox! Open the f*cking door, now!” Brattish it is then! Wonder how long she’ll keep it up. “And fix the f*cking Wi-Fi! It’s been buggy all day!”

“Be there in a moment, Vel!” He lied. “Still running some new security features into the mainframe. The Wi-Fi will probably be a little spotty for a while!”

“Ugh!” She screamed. “Is my toy in there with you? I couldn’t do my morning post without him!”

Vox rolled his eyes playfully. The kid had to cover a laugh with a hand.

“Yeah, he’s here! Not to worry, I’m taking good care of him until your done with all those projects you’ve got!”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Give him back right f*cking now! He’s mine! You gave him to me!”

“And I’m just taking him off your hands until you’re less distracted, Vel! If you have more than enough time for pranks, surely you can finish those clothes for Val, draw up plans for the next season, and throw out a few more ads for our products.” Act like a child, don’t be surprised when you’re treated like one.

His sharks have taken a special interest in the kid, and not in the ‘I want to eat it’ way. It was rare that Vox let someone into his space for long. Even Vel and Val were only momentary intruders. Sure, they saw them in the conference room, but they tended to ignore them since nothing fun ever came from the conference room. The kid couldn’t have been more enchanted by his vicious friends. He didn’t touch the acrylic on Vox’s orders, but he was getting as close as he could and ogling.

“Vee, come on! That’s not fair!” She called out, a little more pained this time.

Ah, already switched from ‘Vox’ to ‘Vee’. The Wi-Fi thing must really be bothering her.

“Can’t be helped! Not to worry, the update is almost done.” He lied again.

He gazed out into the sea of his audience. Many of them had those headphones of his, quite a few of them had the eared version. Some odder cases seemed to be trying to make the standard one look like those special editions, but the ears were wrong and didn’t glow right. He noticed though another new fad popping up. Long shirts and oversized hoodies with homemade designs on them, especially running up the arms. In particular, different tread marks seemed to be of interest. Huh. One look at the kid explained that one.

It wasn’t widespread yet, but he could see the pattern before it emerged. Velvette would pick it up in no time, patent it, and let it sell like hotcakes. Well, best let her get started on it then.

“Darling,” Velvette’s voice was much softer this time. He did always like being called ‘darling’. Something about it just rubbed the right way. “please open the door? The prank was just a stupid-”

The doors opened themselves. The kid gave him a look, a joke hiding behind his lips. Vox quietly shushed him.

“My dear, I’m sorry about the wait. You know how absorbed I get into things.” He said, swinging his chair around as she walked up the catwalk. “The update should be done now. Let me know how it works.”

She checked her phone for a second, then brought herself back to look at him.

“You’re not still mad? Right?”

“I wasn’t mad to begin with! Only concerned. Can’t have my best girl stressing herself out and pulling herself too thin. Next time, if you have an issue, just bring it up. You know I’ve got a fix for everything. Especially ways to de-stress.”

With that, he snapped his fingers. His former technician that had been dangling above the shark tank, paralyzed by a complete excess of volts running his system, was unceremoniously dropped. The kid pulled back in silent horror as the man was quickly ripped to pieces. He looked like he was going to hurl. That’s what you get for mistaking his sharks as friendly dogs, he wanted to tease.

Velvette watched with half interest. Then, from the blue, she jumped up and kissed the side of his face. Her black lipstick left an obvious mark, but she didn’t wipe it away. Must be feeling slightly possessive then, he assumed. She pulled him in for a quick pic, being sure to get the kid in the background looking around the room. She didn’t post it though, instead made it her new screensaver.

She was still for just a moment, then she stole his coffee mug and took a sip.

“Ugh, Vee, you have the worst taste in coffee.”

Velvette was the type to go to a coffee store and make the barista regret ever getting up in the morning. If she was at the bar, she was just as bad to the bartender, especially if the drink didn’t look good enough for Voxtagram. His tastes were a lot more simple. Nothing he drank ever made her happy. She still insisted on trying it though, almost every time. Lipstick stains on his mug and his face, she was finally content enough to head out.

“Cutie pie, come on! We’ve got work to do. Val’s whor*s aren’t going to dress themselves.” She called the kid over with a flick of her finger. He didn’t immediately follow. Instead, a silent exchange happened between him and Vox.

Yeah, go with her. She’s fine.

And he bounded after her.

When the door closed again, Vox took to his chair. Vel’s lipstick added a sweetness to his drink that wasn’t there before. He always liked how it tasted, but maybe next time not in his coffee. Before him, Hell kept turning. The morning news gave way to the TV specials and his reality shows. ‘Yeah, I f*cked Your Sister, So What?’ was showcasing a double feature, two sisters and one guy. He’s not sure if they were going to kill each other first or their so-called man.

Whatever the case, he scrolled through some of his other work in the meantime. A few inventors tossed ideas up to him, hoping to gain favor and get their products endorsed by the biggest tech name in Hell. Most of them were scams, and not even well-hidden ones. He put a special tab on these ones and set them aside. He had a special show for those types, one where he, Velvette, and Valentino sit in hotseats, picking apart people’s designs and ideas. Vox already did all the work behind the scenes. He knew which ones were worth the investment. It made for good television whenever all three of them seemed to agree that an idea was great, and it also was just as good when an idea was so bad that they dropped the presenter into the tank below.

It made everyone feel like they had a shot at getting a contract with the big bosses, if you were willing to bet it all.

And, personally, he always loved watching them squirm, even when he knew he wanted the product.

It wasn’t too long later that he decided that he really ought to check on Alastor’s loser squad. Now that the kid was gone and he didn’t have to see the sad eyes, he brought it back up.

He nearly had a heart attack.

Alastor’s malicious sneer was dangerously close to one of his drones, too close for the camera to survive the onslaught of his dark magic. Symbols and green wisps of evil started to strangle the life out of the little machine. Al’s yellow teeth contorted like a snake and goblin shark hybrid.

“Hello, old pal.”

Vox disconnected the drone. He just completely shut it down, dragged the code from the mainframe. If he even tried hacking in, the whole system would fight to push him out, considering it the same as a virus.

Everything is fine, Vox. You’re fine. Deep breaths.

The kid’s still here. He’s fine. He’s with Velvette.

…but just to be safe.

He found him right by Vel’s side, holding a bunch of clothes in his arms as they climbed down the levels in the elevator. See? He’s fine. Nothing bad’s going to-

Wait. Were they going to Val’s studio?

He spat out his coffee. Vel? What were you doing? You can’t take him in there with all those…well, Val’s people.

It got worse. It got so much worse. Because Angel Dust was there early, already on set and already ready to jump into that sultry little dress Vel made for the movie poster.

Oh, no. No, no! Bad! Very bad!

Vel, do something! Get him out of there! Wha-! No! Don’t just walk away! That dime store whor* doesn’t not need your attention as much as the kid does right now!

Vel walked off to dress the girls, leaving the kid holding a great big pile of clothes, in the middle of Val’s set. Angel Dust looked like he had the wind dragged from his sails. Even the makeup could only do so much to cover up too many sleepless nights. He dragged his feet and sat down in his studio chair, a sigh ripping from him.

“You know, I really wish on days like these that I wasn’t trying to stay sober.”

Apparently, those big ears weren’t just for show. Despite everyone else in the room, and the smooth music, and the re-wind of Val and his director’s cut of the film, the kid lit up.

“Angel?”

The spider reacted like someone just shot something hard straight to his brain, like he might be concerned he was going crazy. All eight eyes sprung wide as the kid put the clothes down on a nearby loveseat.

“Drift! Oh my God! You’re alive! Holy sh*t!” He leapt up, arms open wide to grab him.

Panic leapt into his chest. He didn’t know the specifics of Val’s deal. Did it only apply if Vox handed him over? Did it only mean they had to ‘try’ to find the kid? What did he specifically mean about the return policy? There were too many ‘ifs’. Far too many for Vox to let this go any further.

He tore into the wires, moving as fast as possible. Lightning could move almost as fast as light could. Even following the current, Vox made it in more than enough time to rip right out of the nearby camera and directly in between the two of them.

All around, everything buzzed. The lights flickered. His rush left a small wake of rumbling sound, echoing with the acoustics of this place. He kept a smile plastered to his face, but anyone could tell it was more of a threat.

Angel, surprisingly, jumped straight from shock to rage.

“You motherf*cker-!”

“Now, now.” Vox started. “Let’s not do or say anything you might regret.”

“Ah, Angelcakes! I see you’ve met our newest little pet project.” Val sauntered over from his director’s chair, stepping up behind Vox. His four arms dipped down. Two of them grabbed the kid by the shoulders, keeping him snugly in place. The other two played with his face, grabbing his muzzle much too hard and forcing him to look up at him. “He’s just adorable. The perfect little plaything.”

The kid was shaking. He couldn’t struggle from Val’s grasp, and he’s not even sure how much he could breath with Val holding his face like that. Worse, how Val had said that. Even to Vox, it sounded wrong.

Which is so weird, because he knew that Valentino had no interest in kids, ever. Not because he was bothered by it or something, but more so because kids weren’t ‘sexy’.

That didn’t change the fact that, that had creeped the f*ck out of Vox.

And if it had creeped Vox out, he can only imagine what Angel’s mind jumped to. Soul contract be damned, Angel looked ready to tear Val’s face off.

“If you touched that kid, I swear to god-”

“Val.” Vox interjected. His new speakers drowned out any other sound in the place, including the rest of Angel’s little rant, just in the nick of time. “A word. Alone.”

Valentino was a little too pleased with himself. He put the kid down slowly before directing Angel back to the set. The whisp of smoke formed a chain for a second, tethered to the spider’s neck.

“Sit right there and don’t move. I’ll be back in a minute.”

While Val was doing that, Vox leaned down to the kid quickly.

“You okay?”

“He can’t do that to Angel.” He argued, coughing as he wrung his hands by the harsh lines now imprinted on his neck.

“He can do whatever he wants to Angel. He owns him.”

“That’s not fair-”

“Fair or not, Angel’s an adult. He made his own decision.” Did he really believe that? Sort of, consent was always questionable with addicts. “But if you don’t want to get him or yourself into worse trouble, don’t move. Don’t go to Angel. Just stay right here until I get back.”

It destroyed him on the inside, Vox could see that. All he wanted to do was run over and check on his friend. But, thankfully, it seemed like he trusted Vox’s judgement enough to heed his warning. He stayed still, tail pulling between his legs as the surrounding employees just seemed to notice what was going on.

Vox gestured for Val to follow him to Angel’s dressing room. It was mostly soundproof, for obvious reasons, which made it ideal for what Vox had in mind. Val strolled in, but not before giving one last look between the two hotel mates. It made Angel’s skin crawl again.

“What is it, Vox? Can’t you see I’ve got things handled?”

Handled? That was what he counted as ‘handled’?

He slammed the door shut behind him, shocking Valentino.

“Oh, Val. What do you think you’re doing?”

Reflexively, the moth backed up a bit. His antenna flicked in alarm. Vox could be scary when he was angry. And when he was truly pissed?

“I was…I was…” The words seemed to die on his tongue for a moment. “I was securing an asset. I want Angel back and you’re getting too attached to that brat and-”

“You want Angel back?” His voice warped as he stepped too close to Val, where he had no room left to back up. “Is that really what you want?”

“Um…yes?” He sounded uncertain now.

Vox’s teeth bared too wide to seem friendly.

“No, Val.” He said, his voice coming back down. “You don’t want that.”

“Yes, I-!”

He grabbed his collar, pulling him down to Vox’s height for the time being.

“No, you don’t. You don’t want to force him back like that. You want to prove him right? That the only reason he is here was because he had to be? No. He should want to come back to you.” His harsh grip turned softer, claws combing through and dancing towards the line of his neck. Val gulped.

“You want him on his hands and knees. You want him begging to be back in your arms.” While his one hand teased, and plucked the first button off Valentino’s shirt, his other hand wrapped around. He dug into the flesh of his back, just by the base of his spine. Val squeaked and dragged himself closer.

“But…but the kid-”

He chuckled.

“Were you worried I forgot about you? You?” Vee tower was his plaything. It was all an extension of him. Like an arm, he could twitch the nerves to pull as he pleased. Holographic screens played across the walls. The whole room beamed with light, before flicking to different scenes.

Valentino posing for a shoot. Valentino with blood on his hands and fresh gun smoke in the air. Valentino stretched out across his lounge, counting his money. Valentino laid out on Vox’s sheets, inviting him over with a lick of the lips.

“You’re a star, Val. My star. You think there’s ever a moment I’m not watching you? You think that there’s another soul in this decrepit place as intoxicating as you?”

Valentino eating his chocolates a little too slow. Valentino ruthlessly tearing apart a rival. Valentino dancing around the room in the morning wearing Vox’s robes.

“There’s no one like you, Val. And there’s no one that can take my gaze off you.”

He pulled down, dragging him into a dip. Instinctively, Val’s legs flew up to wrap around Vox. His whole body shuttered with delight as poison dripped hungerly down his face.

“Oh, you’ve ruined me.” Valentino said, almost groaning. Vox knew he’d be thinking about this and only this for the rest of the day. His arms interlocked around Vox’s neck.

“Not yet. Maybe tonight. But I don’t want to hear any more nonsense about me not keeping my eyes on you.” Vox teased.

The way Val was looking at him now, the minute they started making out no other work would be achievable today. And, if Vox had it his way, Val wouldn’t be able to walk afterwards.

“Now, we really have to do something about yours and Angel’s new deal.”

“Oh, screw that. He can come back when he begs for it.”

That’s exactly what Vox wanted to hear.

…

Composing himself to look somewhat professional was harder than he expected. Val had messed up his jacket in his pursuit for purchase on his back. He’d also messed up his bowtie, something he’d unfortunately neglected to notice until after the kid gave him a funny look.

“Angelcakes, back to shooting.” Val directed with a wave of his cigarette.

Angel’s face dropped in panic.

“Val, the deal. What about our deal? You’re supposed to give the kid back!”

“Correction.” Vox interrupted. “The deal was if I found the kid, and I gave him to Val to give to you, then you’d come back to work, fulltime.” He went over the specifics with Val right before walking back in. He was a stickler for wording. “And I don’t feel like handing him over to anyone.”

He walked up behind the kid and, purposefully, put his hands on his shoulders a little tight.

“I think I’ll keep him.”

The spider’s eyes all focused on Vox, fury rising in his throat.

“You think that I’d just let that happen? Oh, Smiles has been wantin’ an excuse to knock your head off. Just wait till I tell ‘em.”

“Nobody is telling anyone, anything.” Val mentioned.

“Oh yeah?” Angel challenge back.

“Oh, yeah.” Val confirmed. “If you try anything, there won’t be a kid left to rescue, Angelcakes.”

The kid was being so well behaved, mouth zipped tight. Angel could assume from what Val said that Vox had his contract, and the kid’s attitude only played into it. Was it worth the risk of the kid getting his soul ripped apart?

Angel’s face fell.

Yeah, didn’t think so.

Then, surprising Vox, the kid ran over and grabbed Angel in a hug.

“It’s okay.” He swore. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

A few tears slipped out Angel’s face, especially when they had to let go. Vox snapped his fingers, and the kid ran to his side again.

“We’re leaving.” He said. If Vel wanted him back, he could pick him up from Vox’s room again. Val blew him a kiss as they walked back into the lift.

When the doors closed, a weight pulled off his shoulders.

“Thank you.” The kid looked up at him, and odd truthfulness to his words that shook something in the core of Vox’s head.

“…for what?”

“For saving my friend. I’m not…it’s not worth the price he’d have to pay.” He pursed his lips. “And he never would’ve let me go unless you made him. So…thank you.”

Despite himself, a grin pressed to his face.

“I didn’t do it for him. Maybe I’m getting used to the annoying buzzing sound of your voice. It’d be a shame to get rid of it now.”

Oh, f*ck me. The kid was happy now. Cuteness aggression was a bitch. He kinda felt like squeezing him until he popped.

“I like your voice too.”

He grabbed his muzzle and playfully closed it.

“Shut up, kid.”

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

He didn’t get to spend too much time with the kid after that. He didn’t even need to tell Vel that she shouldn’t have left him alone. Apparently, she thought he was right behind her. See, this is why it’s sometimes a good idea to look up from your phone every once in a while, to make sure you didn’t lose anything you might miss later.

Anyways, the kid ended up with her most of the day, which meant he was more than ready for his tryst with Val later. Oh, and he kept to his promise. It will be a miracle if he can make it out of bed tomorrow. Val’s going to be such a drama queen later, barking Vox around and causing hell for his hand girls. He’ll moan about how it was all Vox’s fault…then he’ll beg him to do it again.

He might’ve unintentionally given Angel the day off. Ironically, it might be the only time he’d want to come back to work, to check on the kid again.

He was lying there in bed now, stuck on the one thing he didn’t get done today. Vel was happy and apologetic in her own way. Val was snoozing beside him, any argument forgotten about back when the handcuffs were still on. His sales were through the roof. His brand was on cloud nine in everyone’s minds.

Hell, he even managed, despite literally doing everything in his power to stop it, to get attached to something that wasn’t involved in his work or his power. Not that he wasn’t attached to Velvette and Valentino, mind you. But in the labyrinth of his schemes, it made sense to get attached to them. They weren’t all just together because they were cuddle buddies or some nonsense like that. They made each other stronger, better. Yeah, he pulls a lot of the heavy lifting for consolidating that power, but it wouldn’t be at his fingertips without them. Certainly not as easily. So, in his head, he accounted for getting attached to them.

He didn’t count on that silly talking hairball.

He serves no purpose. Vox gains nothing from him being around. He knows he’s a momentary distraction, at best. In fact, he might just be a detriment to everything he’s built. He almost caused a Val versus Vel fight. He did cause a Val versus Vox fight. He almost landed Vox with an extended Angel problem. And he most certainly was going to be an issue with Alastor going forward. Why his rival hasn’t come knocking is beyond him. He didn’t think he was stupid enough not to at least guess, even if Angel was sworn to silence.

But, well, he got attached. How stupid is that?

Val stole more of the blanket and turned over, brushing Vox with the tips of his wings.

“Val?”

“Hmm?”

He was a pretty light sleeper all things considered. Must be another moth thing.

“Don’t ever talk to the kid again. That sh*t was creepy.”

Val made a scoff sound into his pillow.

“Obviously. That’s what I was trying to do.”

“You were trying to sound like a creep?” That didn’t sound any better. He does know that, right? He hopes so.

“Oh, come, Vox. You know there’s nothing fun about kids. They’re stupid and smelly and not mature enough to enjoy anything. Like a bunch of ugly caterpillars. It takes time to turn into this!”

He spread his wings out, almost shoving Vox off the bed.

“Damn it, Val.”

He laughed.

“Sorry, couldn’t help it.” He leaned over a bit, transfixed now on Vox’s bright screen in an otherwise dark room. “I was just getting a rise out of Angel, that’s all.”

“…we really need to get him under contract.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t yet. Don’t tell me he…outfoxed you?”

“Don’t ever f*cking say that again.”

He practically purred with delight. A hand reached over and started toying with the sides of his screen. Vox knew he was tracing over the parts he bashed in before, probably still wondering how he managed to fix it. He hadn’t told him about the kid’s talents. As far as anyone was concerned, he was a cute face and that’s it. The rest was a selfishly guarded secret.

“Well, I can’t help you there, Voxy. As I said, I don’t do kids.”

They never talked about it, but Vox wonders how that could possibly be true. With Val being, well, Val, there was a distinct zero chance he didn’t have a kid topside. Hell, they might still be walking around. Val could very well be a grandfather. What a terrifying thought.

“He’s seen too much to be scared, and nothing I offered him was tempting enough.” He groaned. “The only thing I can think of is blackmail. Angel’s the only one we’ve got to toy with, and he’d just tell him not to do it.”

“Oh, you’re adorable when you’re angry.”

“I mean it, Val.” Why in the hell did he think Val would have any answers? This was a waste of time.

“So do I. I know kids aren’t my thing, but they’re definitely yours.”

Did…did just say what he thought he said?

“…that sounds like an insult.”

“It’s not. Just something I noticed. I mean, look at Velvette.”

Okay, this conversation was going from bad to worse.

“…what about Velvette?”

“Well, she’s a stubborn, independent young lady. And you like how she handles herself. But I see how you act when she’s being a little young in the head. I mean, I know you say that this whole thing was for those headsets of yours, but I think we both know that they’ve would’ve sold just fine without her. You wanted to make her happy.”

“…you know you almost sound smart. How many brownies did you eat?”

“Make fun all you want. It’s the truth.” He said with the slightest amount of sneer. Val always knew how to get under his skin. “This kid? He’s just something small and pathetic that you’re projecting on.”

“I am not!”

“No? Then it shouldn’t be an issue to be the big bad guy tomorrow.” He folded himself back into the sheets, turning to leave Vox alone again. “I know how evil you really are. If you really wanted to scare the kid, he’d never sleep again.”

With that, it was just Vox and the night once more. While Val wasn’t typically a fountain of knowledge…he was right about this. The gloves had been on this whole time. Even before, when he was angry, he hadn’t really done much more than look and sound mean. He threatened, sure, but that wasn’t the same as actually trying it. He could hold the kid out over the shark tank, that was a classic, very James Bond-y. He could give him a jolt, not enough to disfigure, but enough for pain. He could strap him to a chair and sit him in front of a hypnotic gaze until his head felt like mush.

God, even saying it…thinking it. Worse, what if it still didn’t work? What if the only thing he got from doing this was a pathetic cry? What if he just broke down? What then?

Much as pained him to a degree, he needed to break him. He needed to make that sliver of hope die. He needed him desperate and terrified. But how?

Hold on.

He tapped into the security feed from yesterday, something he had said coming back to mind. He’d spent some time in Hell constantly dying, only just falling out of that cycle. Didn’t he mention something about dogs?

That was simple enough. It wasn’t like he was going to run out of hellhounds that work for him, or even sinners who ended up dogs for one reason or another. He could bring him down to the conference room. There was nothing in there, nowhere to run or hide. Then it would just be an ultimatum.

An invitation popped up on his screen. He was asked to join a game of Asteroids.

The kid was still up, his cameras told him. Sitting by the TV, he must’ve figured out how the game system works.

He had no idea. How could he? He did try to warn him. They weren’t friends.

When Vox entered the load screen via his head, he found a little green triangle ship spinning around his little blue one. He was doing figure eights until Vox finally got up and moved. Soon, the game loaded. Little Martian men started to invade as their tiny ships weaved and dodged though asteroid belts.

Vox was good at video games, especially Asteroids. He got addicted to it at one point. It was a problem, one that saw him purge it from the mainframe up until recently. He knew every trick in the book. Any ordinary day, and he’d be out there doing donuts around the bosses of the game. But his heart wasn’t in it. He kept dying to stupid things: a random blast, a suicidal alien craft, an obvious obstacle.

It was about twenty rounds in when the game got stuck on the pause screen.

A quick look at the lounge, and he found the kid staring at one of the cameras.

“Are you okay?” He asked it.

He had the camera nod.

“Are you lying to me?”

He had the camera nod again.

“Do you want a muffin?”

He snickered, despite himself.

The camera shook for ‘no’.

“Was that a lie too?”

You know what, he could go for a muffin.

Another nod.

“Is Val gonna kill me if I sneak in to bring it to you?”

He looked over at Val. He was unconscious. Sure, they were both undressed but he doesn’t think that’d be a surprise considering how Vel had made a face when the kid had asked where Vox was earlier that night. Also, what was there to see that he hadn’t seen already, even if Val did decide to randomly stand up. This is Hell. Odds are the kid’s seen naked people before. Still, he reached over and grabbed his own underwear, at least.

He shook the camera for ‘no’ once more.

About thirty or so minutes later, the scent of muffin filled the room. The kid was surprisingly quiet. He’d think with how awkward he looked, he’d move just as badly. Yet, had it not been for his infrared cameras and the smell of fresh baked delight, he probably wouldn’t have known he was there. Like a creature coming out from under the bed, a tray rose up from the darkness, muffin placed right in the middle.

He snapped it up. It was still good, still warm and sweet.

Vox flicked one of his absurdly large ears, and he giggled as he pulled it out of range of another attack.

“Hey!” He said in the quietest voice Vox has ever heard. Had his audio receivers not been so tuned, there’s no way he could’ve heard him.

Just as he was about to wave the kid away, Valentino rose from the bed like the goddamn crypt keeper. Vox’s screen accidentally blanked out his face, so he looked part zombie.

“Where’s my goddamn muffin?”

Vox didn’t want to share, but asking Valentino to wait patiently while another muffin is made was not an option. Well, he could always get up and-

“It spontaneously burst into flame.”

I..huh? Did…did he have a fire to put out in the kitchen or what? The kid’s tone was dead serious. Probably the only time he’s ever sounded serious about anything.

A quick glance over though, and he was greeted to a sight he’s never seen before. The kid’s face was pinched in a scowl. He almost looked mad. It was so stupid looking. It was like watching a teddy bear trying to snarl.

“Well, why does he get one?” Val huffed, indignant.

“Probably because the muffins don’t light themselves on fire to get away from him.”

Vox was f*cking dying. He couldn’t even eat his muffin. He was laughing too hard. The kid, unceremoniously, walked out. And Val turned around and hit him on the shoulder until he stopped.

“See, this is why I don’t like kids.” Val grumbled, before dropping down back into bed.

Chapter 9

Chapter Text

“Velvette, the kid is going to stay with me today.”

She gave him a look in the reflection of her mirror. He caught her in the middle of putting on what she would call ‘her face’. To be honest, he always thought she looked just fine without the makeup. She was a natural beauty, not an artificial one. But, she insisted, and he was never going to tell her that her efforts were a waste. It was an artform, he’d suppose. Back when he was alive, he’d only ever used the barest amount of makeup right before filming, enough to make his face look, universally, one color. It was a bit of a pain to work around when TV switched to color, but you got to keep moving forward, as they say.

As she lined her lips, a shadow of suspicion snuck into her eyes.

“Why?”

His chest hurt from the breath he was holding. When he let it go, it shook his body down to his shoes.

“You know why.”

He knows that Vel had probably also been trying to get the kid to sign the dotted line. Her methods usually involved some bullying, some sarcastic remarks, then switching it up to something that sounded sweet. She played both good cop and bad cop in her negotiations. ‘Oh, look how terrible you are, see how people dislike you’ and ‘But I like you. Here, let me help make other people see what I see. Let’s show them the real you’ are common phrases of hers. Clearly, it hasn’t been effective in this particular case. Not that anything Vox has done has been any better, but, well, he’s glad someone else tried at least.

“What do you plan to do?” She asked, pressing her lips together and making a pop sound.

“Feed him to the wolves, I suppose. Threats didn’t do much. I tried the honey after.”

“We could always make him to watch Val break your screen until he agrees.” She joked.

The worst part was, he had a sneaking suspicion that that might’ve actually worked if Vox wasn’t completely against the idea of Val beating the crap out of him. Besides, Val was indisposed today. His moth girls kept fluttering about the lounge tending to him. He’s pretty sure one of them already got her wings pulled this morning.

“Already filled my quota for broken screens this week, but thanks for the advice.” He said a little bitterly.

“Got it fixed in record time though.” She mentioned as she moved on to double checking her eyelashes. “He’s quite the little handyman.”

Ah, well, then she knows.

“He fix something of yours?”

“Yeah, my stupid co-worker.” She teased. Then, she ran a quick finger through her hair and turned around. “Look good?”

“Always.” He acknowledged.

Had she not just finished fixing her lipstick, he might’ve just got another kiss on the side of his face.

“Vee?”

“Yeah, Vel?”

“Don’t hurt yourself, yeah? With this whole…thing. I know you and Val are kinda stuck on getting it in writing, but there’s always something else we could do.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. An electrical collar or something. Just don’t beat yourself up too, ‘kay?”

First Val was being introspective, now Velvette. Was Hell freezing over?

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

She turned about, the waves in her skirt shifting when she moved. She readjusted her leather vest, then blew him a kiss as she stepped out.

“Kisses, darling.”

He pretended to catch it and put it in his coat pocket.

He took a moment to collect himself, then stepped back out. He was not prepared, at all, for the kid to leap over the furniture towards him.

“Velvette said we were hanging out today. Is that for real?”

Okay, Vox. You can do this. You’re on air! Smile for the camera!

“Yeah, you’re my problem today.” The kid’s tail swished behind him, just barley containing joy. “I’ve got some work to do this morning, and a conference around noon. I want you to come with me.”

“What’s the conference about?” He asked.

“A company concern that needs to be addressed. With any hope it will be a short meeting.”

“Are there going to be a lot of others there? I don’t need to get dressed up do I?” He says, as if he wasn’t already in top of the line fashion via Vel. Everything from the cut of his pants to the lining of his shirt was custom. It wouldn’t be good enough for her feed otherwise.

“You’re fine as is.” He answered, using his phone to distract himself from those peering, curious eyes.

“Do you want me to get coffee for you and, uh, your presenters?” He said, obviously not sure what Vox had in mind. He can only imagine that he was thinking of every other conference meeting from every movie about a dad who doesn’t spend enough time with their kids around the holidays. It was always a bunch of old men discussing numbers, profits, and something that sounded too greedy for the message of the movie.

“That won’t necessary. Either way, we…have some time. I’ve got some broadcasts to do. It’s not something you can really help with so-”

“You mean when you plug yourself into your chair setup?” He asked.

“…yes?”

“Do you mind if I tag along? It gets boring sitting down all by myself.”

He had planned on just keeping him here, or maybe even his room, until the time came for the…conference. Problem was, he really didn’t need the kid catching on. And he didn’t have an excuse for why he couldn’t be in the monitor room that didn’t sound like an excuse, not after having him by his side all morning just the day before.

“Alright, but same rules as last time. No bothering me when I’m in the middle of something. Got it?”

“Yes!” The kid clasped his hand in a silent fist pump.

He took only a few steps forward, just enough to enter the lift, when a hand reached up and grabbed his own. The kid backed up away from the outer circle. He knew where the line ends now and where the actual lift began. That didn’t seem to make him any more confident that he wouldn’t trip and go falling down the chute.

Come on, Vox. You’re not his friend, remember?

He pulled his hand away, bringing it instead to cross across his chest. Crossed arms were not a good look. It always seemed defensive, and Vox has made a point of avoiding that particular posture for a long time now. If he was going front of media, he’d never allow himself to be filmed like that. As they were just going to the monitor room, it didn’t matter. Still, the kid knew something was up. Nervous as he was about the lift though, he didn’t fight Vox for his hand back. Instead, he grabbed onto his coattails. He better not rip them, he thought.

The lift dropped them off right where they needed to be. His sharks swam over a little eagerly. Vox’s presence in the morning always signaled breakfast, and today was no different. A quick wave and the electronic dispenser dropped down their usual chum. No special, living treats today…at least for now. Anyone could piss him off and end up as a side snack. His patience was already trying on himself.

“Hi, Anchor! Hi, Barge!” The kid greeted them as he walked by where they swam. Weirdly enough, Vox could swear they responded to the names, turning for a moment to focus their beady eyes on the kid. They were probably sizing him up, to see if Vox would finally be tossing him their way but…for a second, it almost looked like…whatever the shark equivalent was for tolerance.

“What did I say about touching the tank?” He made himself groan.

“But I didn’t touch the tank.”

“Yeah, well, don’t stand so close either. Your spit fogs up the view.” He was trying to pick an argument. Give him something to be mad at the kid for until noon, anything to make the time more tolerable. Instead of giving him a fight though, the kid sighed, shrugged, then joined Vox by the monitors.

Fine then! He can just drown himself in his work, a proven method of distraction. The cables snapped in, sparks dancing around his head, before he was suddenly pulled across the city. Millions upon millions of smaller consciousness ripped apart from the main stem and sent spiraling down wires, across phones, and popping up in TV sets across the ring.

So far so good. He kept his gaze out, to his empire and his enslaved viewership. ‘Trust us’ echoed back to him like a never-ending tunnel of voices. He could just stay here if he wanted, where physical things mattered little and his kingdom of stolen time lasted forever. He could get himself lost down winding threads of random topics: what new places popped up, what’s the latest trend, what’s the biggest gossip. The internet was a clusterf*ck of thoughts all screaming into the void a bunch of nonsense with the hope that someone else out there would respond with something intelligent. It was a bunch of questions asked that have been asked before and by millions of others. It was a collection of knowledge; it was a dumpster fire of idiocy.

It was a great, mind-numbing distraction.

But his physical body felt something tapping against his chair. A series of taps, a code he’d memorized so long ago in the past that he remembered more from the muscle memory of writing it a hundred times than recognizing it from a glance.

It was a transmission. At least it would be, if hooked up to a transmitter.

Loxley to Foulfellow. Airways open. Ready to receive transmission.

That was just the kind of thing that would snap Vox from any distraction. The wires plugged into his head popped from the surge. His claws dug into his seat, creating a series of scars from the drag. Hot, seething rage forced his fans to overwork. All around, monitors sparked, accidentally catching them in the after current of his shock and anger. A piercing eye bore down on the little fox sitting next to him.

“Who are you contacting?” His voice filtered in from every single speaker about, making an odd feedback that contorted the message. It hardly sounded like a voice at all.

The kid seemed surprised by the sudden outburst. His head tilted to the side, innocent act already showing its face.

Oh, but he wasn’t going to fall for that again. And to think! He might’ve actually felt bad for what had to be done later. But it was always a trick. It was always a lie.

“Huh?”

He slammed his fist down, putting a dent in the metal armrest. The kid actually fell backwards from the impact and his own alarm.

“You think because you tapped in Morse that I didn’t understand? You think you could trick me? ME? That code is my mother tongue. I spent four f*cking years of my life speaking only that code, and you thought you could slip that by me? Really?”

It was Alastor. He knew it in the pit of his heart, it was Alastor. Who else would he be contacting if not the f*cking Radio demon himself.

“I wasn’t contacting anybody-”

“Don’t. You. Dare. Lie. To. Me.” He snapped, teeth ripping from the digital plane into the physical as he snarled.

“I’m not.” He said in a small voice. “Foulfellow is my grandpa.”

Vox pulled back, only slightly.

“…Explain.”

“My grandpa taught me morse when I was little, ‘cause I was too scared to talk when I was really young. I kinda tap things out of habit sometimes now when things are too quiet. His callsign was Foulfellow and my is Loxley.”

“Callsign?”

“Yeah, he was a pilot, you know? Back in World War II. His squad called him Foulfellow.”

His fans overcame the last of the heat, now just comfortably sitting at a cold, neutral temperature. Foulfellow? He felt like he’d heard the name before.

“Foulfellow…as in the ‘Flying Fox’ Foulfellow?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Why? Heard it before?”

Heard it? He watched it.

“He was one of the best, kid. Maybe the best. I don’t think they ever tracked his kills right.” He remembers it, clear as day. Assigned to get new footage to send home for the broadcasters. Show us something amazing, they said, something that was going to sell bonds. Well, he found it, filmed it, and set it home. Years later, he even played a role inspired by the man who terrorized the sky that day.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he was one of the meanest cats in the sky. I saw him scalp six in one day, then kept strafing the ground troops. Had them pinned until he finally had to go back for fuel. Did…did you not know your grandpa’s a war hero?”

“I mean, sort of. He didn’t talk about it too much. He always said killing people didn’t make you a hero, saving people did.” A glint caught in the kid’s eye. “Wait, did you know him?”

No, but he wishes he had. After the war, people made heroes into stars, real or imaginary. If you served, which nearly everyone did whether they wanted to or not, you had a much better shot of being America’s new headliner. He knows. It did wonders for his career. Before he’d been offered the role, he heard that the directors went to the man himself to play the character inspired by him. He was told he refused, said Hollywood wasn’t for him. Last he heard, the Flying Fox planted his feet in the ground someplace, started a family with that little army nurse he married.

And here was proof. Huh.

“Don’t ever tell anyone what you just told me.”

“But-”

“Listen. There’s a reason most everyone here doesn’t use their real names.” Unless you were a nobody in real life, like a certain red freak, then it didn’t matter as much. “Everyone’s got enemies. Scores to settle. If you’ve got a famous name, you’ve got a big target on your head.”

“…is that why you don’t see like…really famous evil people from history down here? They’re all hiding?”

“Trust me, kid. If they aren’t hiding, they’re dead and never coming back.” Hell didn’t tolerate rivals. If someone died and their large movement died with them, they are immediately targeted by overlords. Most didn’t last the week. Hell also had its own weird code. Similar to a prison, perhaps, where inmates decided that certain people were just not worth the breaths they were taking. That’s one of the reasons that Vox almost never saw anybody from the opposite side of the war. That, and he might kill them himself. There was never a bad time to burn one of them from the inside out.

“I always thought it was because of the deals, ‘cause you have to sign your real name for it to mean something.” He added.

That was another part of it. People have drawn the similarities between deals in Hell with deals in fairytales. As far as Vox knew, which was considerable judging from how many employees he had, dealmaking didn’t strip a person of their name entirely. Though, maybe it could, in a warped sense of the meaning. And, it was a road that seemed to go both ways. Say what you will, ‘Vox’ was a completely different person when he was above ground and still going by the name his father picked out.

On the subject of family members, he wondered what dear old dad was doing. It’s strange that he hasn’t come across him down here. Then again, maybe he has. He could’ve barbequed him a long time ago and just never known. Aside from personal experience, he wasn’t exactly memorable.

“Names have power here.” He conceded. “And so does knowledge. Keep yours close to your chest, got it?”

“Got it.” He nodded back. “So…you said you were speaking Morse for four years-”

He rolled his eyes.

“Kid, I am not going into my past.”

“Um, okay, but I just wanted to know what your callsign was.”

Oh. Um.

“…Bogie. They…the boys called me Bogie as a joke, after the actor.”

“Bogie? Like Humphrey Bogart?” He chirped.

He fought tooth and nail with his face to keep it the f*ck together. Don’t you dare smile at that.

“How do you even know who that is?”

“How could I not?” He almost sounded offended, before winking. “‘Here’s looking at you, kid’.”

Okay, whoever it was that forced this child to watch the classics…well done. Bravo, truly. There was one of them left in the world with taste…until they killed him. See, this is why they can’t have nice things.

For just a moment, in the back of his head, he wondered if he could start up movie nights again. He tried so hard with Vel and Val, but he had to let them pick the films sometimes. Either it ended up with Val putting on something to seduce Vox, or Vel put on some recent flick she learned about through the grapevine, things hardly ever worth the hours wasted watching them. Then, she’d jump on her phone the whole time it was playing. Both of their attention spans were exactly zero for any movie with drama, charm, and dialogue that required there not to be explosions every two seconds. Look, he enjoyed a CGI action flick like anyone else, but if he ever wanted to watch a movie that was actually good, not just entertaining, then he had to watch it in his own time. And when did he ever have that?

“You know, for a kid that died in the 90s, you sure do watch a lot of old crap.”

“It’s not crap.” He defended immediately. “And ask Velvette. Certain things never go out of style.”

Oh great. He was quoting them now. The last thing he needed was for the kid to start sounding like any of them. If he ever quotes Val, he’d seriously consider a muzzle.

“Right, well, I’ve got to get back to work, so keep quiet and out of the way.”

“’Kay.” He proceeded to do exactly not that, walking up close to the tank again and encouraging his sharks over. His fingers played against the floor like piano keys. Vox’s eyes from every corner of the room caught the pattern, even if he couldn’t hear from softness of the taps.

Loxley hailing Bogie. Message received. Ending transmission until all clear. Over and out.

A series of blips peppered out from one of his speakers. It was so inconvenient how convenient it was to transfer his thoughts across the mainframe sometimes.

Bogie transmitting to Loxley. Read you loud and clear. Directions to be given shortly. Over and out.

The kid’s ears flicked back, and he lit up as Vox turned his attention back to work.

Chapter 10

Chapter Text

Noon drawing near had never been so bothersome. This was about the time he could tempt with cooking channels, game shows for the odd bored soul, and sappy dramas for everyone locked up in their house. It was usually the easiest part of the day, mostly re-runs and making himself something for lunch. Now, all his stolen time seemed to be catching up to him. He has never dreaded that stupid clock more than he did now, and he hated that.

The kid had taken to playing with his sharks. Yes, that’s right, playing. Apparently, sharks could play. They chased him from one end of the room to the other, crashing between themselves when the kid suddenly changed direction. The kid loved stopping short and watching them be suddenly forced to veer the other way. The string of bubbles they made from the effort danced like jellyfish in the blue light.

They want to eat him, he told himself. If he threw him in there, they would eat him. They’re only pretending, only gaining his trust. Like you. It’s all an act, remember?

His internal clock ticked for fifteen minutes to twelve, and by that time he couldn’t take the waiting any more. Just rip the bandage off now while your nerve is still there.

He did one more quick check of his shows, then unplugged.

“Come on. We have to get going now.”

“Okay.” The kid quickly turned back and waved to the aquarium. “Bye, Anchor. Bye, Barge. Be back in a sec.”

The sharks, who needed to keep swimming if they wanted to, you know, breath, stood floating still as the kid retreated back towards the door, next to Vox. Sharks couldn’t look somber, and they weren’t smart enough to understand. He knew that. So why were they holding their breath as the kid left?

“They can swim down to the conference room. It’s just below us.” He explained.

“Really?” He gasped. “That’s amazing! This has got to be the biggest, coolest aquarium I’ve ever seen.”

He glanced around once more, seemingly looking for something.

“But how does it connect? I mean, your monitor floor just kinda drops off.”

“The conference room is…sorta of in the middle of the tank, towards the bottom. You see how far down it drops? If you go down far enough, you’ll see the room. To them, I imagine it looks like a big square bubble.” He explained. Installing it had been a pain, but he thinks it was worth it in the end.

“For a guy with a lot of electronics, you sure do like getting close to water.” He joked.

“I’m a CEO. Sharks are my spirit animals.” He teased back. Wait, stop. Serious mode, remember? The kid grabbed his coattails again as the lift dragged them down.

The main conference room was at the end of a hallway. There were other doors there, for other meeting rooms and certain desk workers, but nothing like the main room. Vox made sure that room had prestige to it the others did not. If someone was invited there, it was always important. More often than not, the Vees would make use of the place as their personal scheme room. Val has tried talking him into finding other uses for the space, even just quickly, but Vox has tried to keep it as professional of a place as possible. Even if he had to pull teeth to do it.

The plan, originally, was to put him in there. But, as they kept walking, he thought about how he’d constantly think of the kid running and cowering in that room while he was sitting and supposed to be paying attention. He’s not sure he’d be able to see the space without considering it and…well, it wasn’t productive to be distracted like that.

He pulled open a different door, one of the other conference rooms he usually reserves for employees going through earnings and whatnot. This place was much more familiar with the concept of people’s suffering, especially by Vox’s displeased hand. Outside, the conference room attendant seemed confused. The rooms were all maintained down to the minute, each project given its own timeframe. Most likely, there would be a meeting in there shortly. He gave her the universal sign for ‘fix that because I’m taking this over’, which amounted to a slight scowl and a dismissive wave.

The kid ran over to the aquarium windows. While not as grand as the view from the main conference room, you could still into the space. Anchor and Barge have apparently chosen not to swim down. He can’t say he blames them, even if a small part of him wished they would show. What’s the matter boys? You can’t tell me that now you suddenly don’t want to see a little blood.

Lacking the bigger fish, the baitfish came out from hiding. Little glowing techno eyes were infatuated with the kid’s twirling fingers.

“Do they have names?”

“I don’t give names to feeder fish.” If you name it, you might mistakenly get attached to it, a problem Vox was getting too familiar with.

“I dub thee, Nemo.” He said, mimicking a sword with his pointer finger and tapping where their shoulders might have been.

“Really? ‘Nemo’? It’s not even a clownfish.”

The kid looked at him, very confused.

“…why would it have to be a clownfish?”

“Because Nemo is a clownfish.”

“What are you talking about?” Why was he looking at him like he was crazy?

“The f*cking fish from that animated flick, Nemo!”

“…um, Nemo is the captain of the Nautilus. I’ve never heard of clownfish named Nemo.”

A quick search jumped across his head. Oh. That movie didn’t come out until after the kid was dead and buried. And Hell wasn’t exactly known for playing kid flicks. To be honest, the only reason he watched it was because Velvette said he would like it.

It was perhaps the one time she recommended a good movie. It just also happened to be a kid’s movie. So Vox could never watch it again. Unless he had an excuse. Which he now had.

“Note that under things you need to watch later.” He logged to himself.

“You…want me to watch a clownfish? A clownfish named Nemo?”

“Trust me, you’ll understand later.” Assuming the kid ever spoke to him again.

Which he would. He was stupidly trusting and forgiving. Sure, this was personal and, well, he’d be lying if he’d said he wasn’t completely taking advantage of that trust. It’d be a lie to say he wasn’t deceiving the kid. That…that what he planned to do to him wasn’t going to make Vox feel like he got stabbed in whatever was left of his black heart.

He just kept smiling. Naivety has never looked so cursed. At least suspect something, anything!

“Okay, I trust you. If you say it’s worth it, I’d think you’d know better than me.”

That was the end of his rope. He couldn’t be here right now.

Faster than he meant to, too quick to look normal, he turned to walk out.

“I’ll…I’ll be back in a minute. Something just came up. And…and then we got to talk about something else.”

“Anything I can help with?” Concern crept into his voice, and he moved just slightly closer. You might as well have poked him with a hot fire pick, because he overreacted. His whole body flinched. The kid recoiled like it was his fault, and he pulled his hands up to his chest. He kept them so close, you’d think he was trying to protect his heart.

He didn’t know the feeling. Something worse than feeling empty inside started festering behind his ribcage. It was messing with his breathing, like it infected his lungs. He almost wished he could cut himself open and pull it out with his bare hands.

“No just…just stay here. I’ll be back.”

Obedient, stupid kid watched him the whole time, standing there in the middle of the room like he wanted to reach out towards him. The door shut, and the kid was gone from direct view, but there were eyes everywhere. He could see him fidget, make like he was going to go after him, then freeze. He knew something was wrong. He knew it.

“Mr. Vox, sir? Any specific instructions for your men?” His assistant asked. How could she act so calm? Did she not see the kid? Did she not care?

For once, she was dressed appropriately, or what amounted to appropriate. Sure, her heels were a little high, and her eyes batted a little too invitingly, but it all seemed to be covered in haze. Like there was privacy glass drawn across his eyes. It was all too fuzzy, even for him to be annoyed.

“They stop the second he says he’ll sign.” He said, not trusting himself to say too much. “If they lay a finger on him after he says it, they will wish they were dead. Am I clear?”

“Crystal.” She said with a nod. She talked into her headset, instructing a unit to get ready. Inside, the kid’s patience wore out. His worry made him grab for the door, only to realize it was locked. He started tugging, fighting with the lock. It didn’t budge.

He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t stand here. He’s not sure he’d physically be able to stand aside if he was here.

“Sir?”

“Keep me posted.” With that, he floored it back to his monitors, back to his distractions. Except, when he got there, he was reminded that he was never truly turned off from the rest of it. It didn’t have to be on screen. He could see the kid freaking out on camera, banging on the door. He even called his name. No response, obviously.

Outside, his grunts gathered. He’d not really been too keen on picking anyone out specifically. He’d just told his attendant to put together a scary group of thugs, dogs that looked mean enough for whatever needed to be done. He’d called it throwing him to the wolves. It felt so literal now. The smallest mutt there could fit the kid’s head in his jaws. Their teeth were bigger than his fingers and sharp. Canine teeth were meant to grasp, shred, and tear the flesh. The kid had them too, but his were so small. He’s not sure he’d break skin if he tried.

The kid abandoned the door for the camera. He shoved over a chair and climbed up to it. Voice panicked, he still kept asking for him. He’s never had such a close-up view of his eyes before, splintered green irises surrounding those oversized pupils. Green was a rarer color down here, because green was the color of the world above. Unless it was money green or emerald green, it didn’t belong down here. Unless there was some monetary tie to it, it shouldn’t be green.

There was an iridescence to his eyes that you didn’t see unless you were this close. It was delicate, the only things his database could compare it to were hummingbird feathers or a butterflying’s wing. They were small and frail things, things that were easy to break.

“Can you hear me? The door is locked.” He said.

Vox didn’t answer. How could he?

Oh, Vox. What did you do?

You did what you had to do.

Really? You had to do this?

The wolves hyped themselves up. They caught the scent of fox, apparently. Some of them started to drool. The kid cupped the camera still trying for a response. He was wasting his time.

He didn’t want to watch this.

You did this. You better watch it. Suck it up.

“Shut up.” He hissed.

Why? Too afraid to look in the mirror?

Red eyes blared back at him, teasing him. He wanted to strangle the life out of them. His hands tremored, fighting against his instinct to do just that.

The world is a stage, Vox.

They laughed like hyenas right before the lunge. The kid abandoned the camera for the table. A knock on the wood was loud, vibrating plenty to hear. Then, a series of taps: Loxley to Bogie. Come in, Bogie! Signs are reading Red! Emergency, respond!

He didn’t answer.

And the stage is a world of entertainment.

His assistant pulled out her cardkey, and an electronic beep opened the lock. The kid was already in the corner of the room. He was still tapping, though on the walls. His back was to the tank glass, projecting a shadow over his face. Over and over, it was more of the same: Come in, Bogie! Respond! Bogie!

Then, after a moment, it got more desperate. The taps were faster, its message simple and shaking him to his core: Vox, where are you?

Isn’t this so much fun?

“Shut up!” He screamed.

He dragged his hand back and punched a hole through his main monitor. Pieces of it got stuck in his hands, turning them red. His claws dug and ripped the cables from the back of his head. Live wires sparked in protest and his system’s redundancies kicked in. In his head, he couldn’t stop seeing it. The feed wouldn’t stop, and he couldn’t escape it. It danced even behind his closed eyes: teeth bared and the doors swinging open.

Make it stop! It had to stop! He didn’t want to watch this!

He screamed again, though it sounded more like it came from everywhere but his own throat. Lightning sprang up in bolts and flooded the room. Safety measures failed. The insulators were exhausted. The system overloaded. Too much went into it, and it couldn’t take it anymore. Everything around him sizzled and shuddered out. The lights shattered, glass falling down from above. The screens around him dropped like dominoes, each successive one glitching out and going dark. The cameras hung down, as if tired from holding their heads up, the little red lights of recording fading. Without Voxtek maintaining it, the internet shut down. Hell, the city could’ve gone dark for all he knew. Vee tower itself blacked out.

And it was finally quiet.

He leaned back in his chair, catching his breath.

Coward.

It was gone now. He couldn’t see the footage. So why was it still playing in his head? Things that he never saw happen plagued him still. His own mind was fighting now, replaying events from a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare, right? He never saw it happen.

That didn’t make it any less real. Right now, the kid was screaming, flailing, kicking, and, worst of all, probably still under some misguided idea that he was going to show up and put a stop to it.

Maybe…maybe he could do a hard reboot. Just turn his f*cking brain off for a couple of hours.

Emergency power restarted the system. It was an added thing, a necessary extra, once Vox realized that an over surge could take out the city’s system. Whether because he just lost it, or because Alastor messed with it, Vox had been unwilling to take the chance of everything being down for too long. Especially because Alastor was back.

The Wi-Fi sprung back first. Velvette had insisted on that being among the first things. Yeah, it might seem dumb for that to be among them. Why not the security? Honestly, she made a good case for it at the time. No one could beat them while they were together. They were the Vees. When they worked as a unit, no overlord in hell stood even a sliver of a chance in that fight. If the tower went down, then something was wrong with Vox, obviously. Therefore, it was in the best interest of the other two to know where he was and possibly get in contact with each other. In the worst case, they could track each other down to the exact location. Yeah, of course he had tracers on them all. And yes, it came quite in handy when Val got drunk and lost.

Either way, the idea was if the Wi-Fi was back on, then they would know where the others were, if they were okay…and, though never explicitly said, if Vox was dead. His signal wasn’t programed into a phone. His was in his head. If he wasn’t transmitting after a surge…he was dead. Simple as that.

He was tempted to turn his locator off though, just this once. He just…couldn’t handle reining them in right now. He couldn’t juggle Velvette screaming about her blog and how Vox nearly ruined it with an outburst alongside Valentino throwing a hissy fit because the lights turned off and he couldn’t see a damn thing.

All of that on top of having to negotiate terms with the kid, between tears, a torn up face, and god knows what else.

He put his head in his hands and leaned forward. God, he didn’t want to handle this.

The security measures jumped on afterwards, emergency lighting and all that. The automated doors clicked ready for use. The safety shutdown system stood at attention. That one was used more for angel attacks than anything else. Obviously, they had little use for it recently.

A ring sounded. His assistant was calling. The cameras weren’t up yet, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out why she was calling. Come on, Vox. You’re on air. The audience is waiting.

He answered.

“Yes?”

“S-sir! I-I-I am so s-sorry!” She was sobbing, flipping out. Half of what she said wasn’t understandable. The other half was making Vox sit straight up.

“What happened?”

“I-I-I was d-doing a-as you asked and w-when we walked i-into the room…S-sir, y-you have to understand, it wasn’t my fault!”

A horrifying dread clawed his throat open.

“The kid. What-?”

She talked over him. Something was very wrong for her to do that.

“B-but then the p-power w-went o-out and I d-didn’t see it and-”

“What happened?” He yelled, feeling like he was burning out his speakers when he said it. They’ve already had a trying day. Hell, his fans were working so hard that he could hardly hear anymore.

“The c-child, h-h-he’s, I-I couldn’t tell with the lights out, s-sir and-”

Dead, his imagination filled it out for him. The kid was dead.

He risked combusting right then and there. His body was ready to tear itself to pieces, to turn into banded bright fury and collapse on those f*cking dogs. He’d fire off every receptor of pain. He’d rewire the circuits in their heads, ripping pathways open by searing heat. He’d have them screaming, begging for death, and having them completely unable to move. For the rest of f*cking existence, they’d be nothing but screaming inside of their own heads, for murdering that kid.

But…but that wasn’t the truth, was it?

He did that. He let them do that. He told them to.

That stupid, useless kid trusted him. Up until the very end.

And Vox had him killed.

“I-I’m sure h-he hasn’t gotten far, s-sir.” She stammered.

Wait. The cavity that craved its way into his chest suddenly felt a little less empty. Now, fear was crawling inside it.

“…you lost him?”

“Y-yes, s-sir. When the power when out, h-he…what I mean t-to say is, um-”

“There’s nothing in that room.”

“S-sir?”

“That room. There’s nothing in there but a table and some chairs.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“There’s only one exit. One. Which had you and ten giant f*cking dogs in the way.”

“Y-yes, sir.” She confirmed.

“And you mean to tell me that he’s gone?”

Alastor. His shadow could do that, drag someone from the darkness like that. It’s also usually not too far from its owner.

Vox enacted the security shutdown right then. All around, titanium screens closed shut around the windows. The vents were sealed and pressurized, making a whisper of rushing wind around the tower. Interior lighting didn’t quite go back to normal, but the emergency bulbs replaced their broken counterparts. Any and all exposed areas had nets over nets filing in, until filled with a metal cover that would survive a nuke. He’d know. He tested it.

Areas inside the tower started sectioning off themselves. It was another feature, meant to keep everyone who wasn’t a Vee in their rooms. They didn’t need the chaos from a running, panicking crowd. Val’s studio, with mostly editing employees there today since Val was still in his room, closed up. The windows barricaded themselves. Fibers of angelic steel morphed into the framework, giving the shutters a glistening look. Similarly, Vel’s pad locked tight. Since hers was more interior to the tower, the elevators plunging down into default mode in the basem*nt was much more noticeable. It probably looked and felt like a deranged carnival ride, not that Vox has given it a go. The lifts themselves had specialized locks on both the interior and exterior entrance doors to the different floors. You’d have better luck trying to break into a military hanger than crawling up the levels of Vee tower.

Nothing short of Lucifer himself was going to get through all of that.

Slowly, the cameras started blinking back on. Val was pacing the room, a strong drink in his hand. His bot was there too, carrying around a tray for him to put it down on. He didn’t. In fact, it looked like he couldn’t decide if he was going to drown or smoking himself to death first, given that Vox has only just gotten access to the room and he’s seen Val puff through two cigarettes already.

No sign of the kid.

Val noticed the camera on. Nerves were replaced by ire in an instant.

“Vox, what the f*ck?”

Vel’s pad came on next. Her designers had taken cover. It looked like her lighting suffered worse than Val’s. The overheads that were still in one piece flicked menacingly. Vel herself was yelling orders, keeping her employees’ attention on anything else but what was going on.

“Elisa, stop being a bitch and get those fabrics away from there! Do you know how much they’d cost to replace? And Beatrice, who the f*ck told you to hide under the table? You think a f*cking table is going to keep you safe from me?”

She, like Val, noticed the camera about then. She didn’t yell, but she did start texting him a stream of insults, arguments, and, once, asking if he was okay.

The kid wasn’t here either.

The anxiety kept rising in him. The cameras would only turn on so quickly, only after they had time to run diagnostics and reboot. Every time a new view showed up, it felt like a small victory, only to quickly drag him further into alarm. Because every single time, the kid wasn’t there.

Alastor grabbed him. It was the only thing that made sense. Alastor was hiding somewhere in the building and he grabbed the kid. Imaginary red eyes started teasing him in the peripheral of his vision, just where monsters liked to hide. It was right where a glance would make them disappear, and to take your eyes completely away was akin to giving up the ghost.

His assistant was taking those dogs around now, trying to sniff out the scent. Unfortunately, they seemed to hit a roadblock. According to all the yelling, the scent was coming from everywhere. Which is impossible. Unless a shadow demon grabbed you and raced across the wall, he imagines. That would do it.

His phone was blowing up. Val and Vel were losing it in the group chat. Mostly yelling. But his nerves were so frayed they were sparking at the ends. He did text back though.

Alastor grabbed the kid.

Silence.

He’s in the building and he grabbed the kid, he clarified.

You saw that? Valentino asked. How the f*ck did he get in here?

I don’t know. I didn’t see him. He answered.

Vox, are you sure? Vel added.

He was in the conference room, Vel. Now he’s gone. There’s no other way he could’ve gotten out.

Just then, the nightmare crawled out from where it was hiding. Around his room, he could hear metal grating, something knocking about in the walls. It sounded like something with claws was reaching out toward him, an echo vibrating through the whole room. His sharks could feel the vibration, and they scattered at the noise.

He’s here.

Vee, what are you talking about?

He’s in here with me.

Vox! Open the f*cking doors! He could see Val chewing his tobacco stick right through. His wings puffed out as he tried to break down the lift doors.

Vee, I’m right downstairs! But I can’t get out unless you unlock the pad doors! Velvette pulled off her heels and smashed the hinges right off the first set of doors with the spike.

The clawing sound got closer and closer. He still couldn’t tell where it was coming from. Here, in his own throne room, where the seat of his media empire sat, he was blind. And alone.

But he was not going down without a fight.

A vent cover popped off, right there, next to the door. It was an exhaust vent, one of the ones he uses to make sure this room stays cool. The opening was small, hardly enough for a rat to crawl through. Or so he’d thought. No sooner had it flung off than two stupidly large ears popped out from the opening. In the dark, his eyes seemed to glow, like all nocturnal animals did. He was covered in dust, some cobwebs, and his hair was frayed like he got into a fight with a hairdryer.

Abject panic was strewn across his face, and the second he made eye contact with Vox, he burst into tears.

“You’re alive!” He screamed, squirming the rest of himself out from there and booking it towards him. Vox hadn’t had time for anything to start making sense, and the kid had already grabbed him in a tight hug. “Don’t scare me like that!”

How? Just…just how?

“You…you thought something happened to me?” His mouth ran ahead of his brain.

“Of course I did! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” The kid protested. “You were all sorts of upset when you left! Then the door locked. Then, you didn’t answer when I called you! And then the tower blacked out! And then the whole place locked down like it was Alcatraz or something!”

The kid’s voice curled off, broken and weeping.

“I thought…I thought…” He couldn’t even finish what he wanted to say, like it was too horrible to put into words.

Stop it. This needed to stop, right now.

“No one can kill me!” He snapped. He grabbed the kid by the lapels. “You understand me? I will never be in trouble because there’s not a goddamn person down here that’s stupid enough to try it. I would crush them all, understand?”

The kid didn’t even care that Vox’s nails had ripped through the collar of his shirt. His face immediately went to the destruction around that Vox himself caused.

“Then, why-?”

“I locked you in the room!” The truth came pouring out. Like the dam was too full and just flooded. “I sent my men down there to make you sign the damn contract!”

He held the kid off the ground with one hand, his other grasped the air. A written form appeared from thin air, a paper with long words and airtight language, not unlike the contracts he had with his other employees. At the bottom, there were two signatures required on dotted lines. His own was already filled out. The other was just waiting.

He sat the kid down in his chair, slamming the contract in front of him. A pen materialized from nowhere, its ink strangely filling the room with a coppery smell.

“Sign. It.” He was livid. He never knew he could get this mad.

And the kid still had audacity to have water streaking down his face from before. He looked down at it though, apparently reading it. As if he could understand that. Even his lawyers hardly understood-

“I can’t sign it.”

“You’re going to sign it, or I swear to god-”

“Vox, even if I wanted to, I can’t.” He pointed to a paragraph, a stupid couple of lines detailing how Vox had the right to every and all communications among other things. It was basically just them waiving their rights to privacy, which, well, wasn’t too different from what Vox usually did anyways. None of them even looked twice at it.

“What? Something you don’t want me to see? You know I see everything, right?”

“Well, yeah, but it violates my NDA, so I can’t.”

The whiplash was jarring. It hurt his head to try to wrap his mind around that little tidbit. How does a kid even know what an NDA is? Much less, how does a kid sign an NDA? Who makes a kid sign an NDA?

“NDA? You have an NDA? I thought you said you still owned your soul?”

“I do. I still work.” He said, like it was obvious. “My boss is very particular about his privacy.”

He knew the kid drove a car, a fancy car. He assumed he worked as part of a service, just one cog in the machine. He was just starting to realize that the ‘boss’ wasn’t the guy in charge of a limo service.

“Who’s your boss?”

“Um. I did just say I have an NDA. I can’t tell you who my boss is. Look, I’ll prove it. My boss’s name is-” His mouth moved but no sound came out. He just gave Vox a shrug. “See? Can’t say it.”

“But you still own your soul?”

“’Course. It’s a standard employee contract. I get paid every week for, ‘services rendered’. It’s basically just a fancy way of saying I drive my boss around in the car. There are the little additives he put on it, just to make sure stuff doesn’t go wrong. Like the ‘no saying the name’ thing. And the ‘mind control’ thing, that too.”

“…what ‘mind control’ thing?”

“I dunno. Some kind of spell. Makes it so I can’t get mind controlled, I guess, so he can protect his secrets. Your hypno eye still gives me a headache though.”

Was he serious? He can’t be serious. This whole time, Vox’s suggestions haven’t and didn’t work? The most he accomplished was making him want an Advil?

“That’s…that’s some NDA.” Who was strong enough to even do that? Vox didn’t even know you could do that. Oh, this was a grapevine he was going have to follow to its source. This could seriously mess his plans up later. “And your boss he…he really doesn’t want people to know where he goes and who he talks to?”

That’s something either the paranoid or the scheming get up to down here. Either one with that much power was a concern, to say the least. An overlord, perhaps? Off the tip of his tongue, he couldn’t think of any that was in close connection to the kid. Then again, now that he’s relooking the footage, he…can’t see anyone in the car. He doesn’t see anyone get out of the car either. All he sees is the kid driving around and, occasionally, opening and closing the door like he was escorting ghosts. This wasn’t like Alastor’s distortion, where he knew he was there, he just couldn’t see the whole picture. This was something else entirely.

“Like I said, he likes his privacy. Can you let go now?” He asked, nonchalant.

Vox had the contract disappear, but questions still lingered. He still caged him in the chair.

“Why aren’t you mad at me? I was going to feed you to my dogs. How the hell did you even get out of there?”

“Um, first, who says I’m not mad? Don’t feed your friends to dogs. Second, I climbed up the vent. I thought that was obvious.”

There was a vent in there, as he said, to keep the computers running well. That would also explain why the dogs couldn’t track him down. If he was in the vent when the shutdown happened, an air current would’ve pushed the scent across every room interconnected with the one he was in. While he’s a little surprised the kid himself wasn’t pushed out, he can’t say the system was ever meant to force something as big as a child with the power of air alone.

“You don’t sound mad.” He commented.

“To be honest, I’m just glad you’re alive. You really scared me.”

With that, Vox had enough data. Calculations spat out conclusions slowly. His supercomputer brain was just a fumbled mess right now from the emotional rollercoaster. But, it came up with a few things. One, he was never going to get the kid under contract. Two, there was very little he could do to make the kid hate him now. Three, he’s too attached to the fuzzball to want to make him hate him.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Odds are, he was talking to himself as much as the kid.

“You’ve told me.” He nodded.

The room tremored like a hellquake was happening. The doors to his room were pried apart by giant nails. The four bedazzled guns of Valentino bounced the light from the screens around, making the place shine like a disco. The moth himself spewed smoke in like a factory, poison dripping from elongated fangs. His wings were spread out, an almost eye like pattern piercing out from the scaling. He only got scarier as his true demon form started ripping out from his body. It was a demented, twisted version of an emerging from a cocoon, as if Val’s body was just barely holding back an even more terrifying beast underneath. He’s seen Val molt before. Had he not seen that, he might’ve assumed that Val was secretly a f*cking alien emerging like that.

He pointed the guns about, at every shadow hiding around the room.

“Hands off my f*cking man, you son of a bitch!”

“Val-”

The sound of porcelain grating against itself put him to pause. From the plummeting depths of the room, Vel crawled her way up the monitor’s island. Her face looked like cracks against a glass plate. Inky blackness trailed those lines and dripped from her eyes and mouth. He was reminded of the story of Bloody Mary, a spooky tale for children, where the ghost emerged if you said her name too much while looking at a mirror. This too he’s seen before, but to date he can name the number of times on one hand. Still surprised him, every time.

“I’ll tear you apart! You hear that fossil? Don’t you f*cking dare touch my boys!”

The kid and him shared a look as his fellow Vees came charging in, guns literally blazing, ready for a fight.

A grin spread across the kid’s muzzle.

“‘I don’t have friends’, he says.” His voice made a sound like an imitation of Vox’s voice, if Vox had swallowed a squeaker. He kept teasing. “‘It’s different with Val and Vel’, he says.”

“Kid-”

“Let me guess. Shut up?”

“Exactly.”

Chapter 11

Chapter Text

“So, I’m your man, huh?”

“You know, it’s a f*cking shame you just got that new head of yours because if you say that one more f*cking time, I will bash it in again.”

The day hadn’t exactly gone as planned, but he won’t complain about the ending, at least. After calming both Valentino and Velvette down, enough that a manhunt for the imagined Alastor shadow wasn’t going to sound off anytime soon, he had to compensate them for…well, their time, he’d suppose. He didn’t expect that kind of reaction, the reactionary viciousness. Which also meant compensation had to be just as well.

Vel was easy to fix. He just gave her his credit card. Go nuts with it.

Val was harder to please, but less painful to his wallet. He still took him out, rented out the whole nightclub for just him and his groupies. They drank like fish and spent a terribly long time in the club’s backrooms. Val, still reeling from the damage Vox did to him just the night before, was absolutely ravaged by days end.

Not that the day ended when they got back, mind you. Hence the teasing.

“No need to be so hostile, Val. I’m just saying-”

“Yeah? Well, now you need to shut up.”

He was on the lounge, trying to pretend like he wasn’t showing off his legs again. As if they weren’t already covered top to bottom in marks, bites, and scratches. He stretched out, arms gliding along his hips, toying with the belt of yet another bathrobe that Vox will need to replace. The man was insatiable, he’ll give him that.

“Hmm.” He brought his head forward, right next to Val’s antenna. They were sensitive, much more than you’d expect. The slight vibrations of a voice sent them twitching. The static from a TV had them spiraling. Vox teased a breath by them. “Sure, Val. Whatever you want, today.”

He didn’t really want him to shut up. It was one of his favorite things about Vox, he’s pretty sure. Valentino was a man of ego, and he loved nothing more than having it stroked in every possible, conceivable way. He’s never said as much, but he’s pretty sure that’s why he always petitions him in the monitor room. There’s just something appealing to the man about having eyes watch them from everywhere, of hearing praise from everywhere. Especially if it was Vox’s.

He shivered when Vox ever so gently ran his fingers through with his antenna. Had he not been spent from before, Vox’s is pretty sure Val would’ve leapt up and dragged Vox to the floor with him.

“What I want would involve enough screaming to wake the damn ring.” He huffed.

“Oh, you want to scream now?” Vox teased. “I can help with that.”

“Vox, you talk too much.” He said, as if he wasn’t vibrating from the idea.

“That’s what they tell me.” He joked, pulling away enough to make Valentino miss his presence by his side.

It was always like this, this tugging and pulling. Some days, Val would want nothing more than Vox. Other days, well, Vox loses his face. One could never quite tell where the dice were going to land, but he’d be a liar to say that there wasn’t something he loved about it, in a sick sense of the word. Sure, he never wanted to get his head rearranged, but Val being in a violent mood could be fun, has been fun in the past.

It was just a whole lot less fun when he ended up with the target on his head. Honestly, he can’t even remember when that started to happen, only that he just had to account for it in the schedule and budget.

But at least it was still Vox. His anger and desire was still centered on Vox.

Until Angel Dust happened.

Cut it out, Vox. Don’t think of him right now. That line of thinking never goes anywhere good. Besides, he was still on camera! Can’t be frowning in the middle of the scene, now can we?

His hands quickly wrapped around Val’s sides. Before he had time to react, he’d already pulled him up in his arms. Val’s legs hitched at Vox’s waist, and his arms tugged across his shoulders and face.

That was another thing Val loved, being manhandled. Being eleven feet tall apparently gives people the wrong impression, but Vox knew better. Val was a moth, a fuzzy casing of exoskeleton covering nothing but softness underneath. He seemed strong because he was big, and because some of that frame gave him power to work with. But it was nothing compared to the complex dance of flesh, bone, and machinery. He’s not as tall, obviously, but there was a reason Val always chose to aim for his face or the delicate parts still left on his skin. If he bit too far, or aimed just a little wrong, Val could accidentally end up damn near breaking his own hand.

Machines didn’t have the same rules for bodies that living things do. Both were complicated and everything inside served a function for higher operations, but machines were made to carry out everything at a hundred percent of their ability. They do what they’re programed to, nothing more and nothing less. Organic machinery was built for the opposite, the gradients and the fine tuning. One was determination made from metal and iron, and the other was calculation on the scale of nerves and cells. And Vox was a mismatched mess stuck between the two.

That meant that when he did decide to pull, there was little Val could do but ride out the wave. Not that this wasn’t already what he had in mind, given his poison nearly dripping onto Vox’s face.

“Oh, I should’ve just gone to that sh*tty hotel and brought you back Alastor’s head.” Val purred. “I can’t imagine what you’d do then.”

While in theory that was incredibly hot, Vox wasn’t going to be giving him any ideas. Especially since this is Val, and he might think his stupid theory is a good idea later.

“Don’t tell me your thinking of leaving now?” Vox’s voice added a bit of television fading, just as he brought a finger to tease the length of Val’s spine.

“Oh, not on your life.”

“Good.”

One last steamy session on the longue later and a cleanup in the bath that also might’ve gotten a little steamy, and Vox had them both tucked into his bed. He never smoked Val’s cigarettes, even after they were done. Sure, it might not have the same effect on him as it does others, screen head and all that, but something in the chemicals brings his thoughts around to the worst. Maybe Val smoked too much before making out, because Vox’s head was dragging him around even without the visible smoke.

Alastor wasn’t just a Vox problem. Val probably knew that better than Vel, but she’s been around long enough to know. If the king falls, the game is over, isn’t it? Is that the only reason they came charging in today? Maybe. And why would he expect something else? He shouldn’t.

Every machine had a use, a function. Vox keeps the train moving. Vox keeps the Vees at the top. Vox keeps all of Hell focused on them, loving them.

But to his fellow Vees? Vox solves problems. That’s his function.

He admits there’s attachment there but, well, let’s just say he’s never under the assumption that the attachment wasn’t built from necessity. Like a certain radio freak mentioned once, keep only the necessities, everything else is a potential liability.

But then there’s days like today. When something bad almost happened, or he thought it would, and he was a little surprised they showed up. I mean, obviously they would. As he said, he was required for things to work. The body didn’t function without a brain.

That didn’t stop his replay on Val’s and Vel’s words, ‘my man’ and ‘my boys’ respectively. He liked the sound of that.

Then, of course, there was the kid. He literally clawed his way up most of the levels of Vee tower to make sure he was alive. Not to mention that this is literally like the second time he’s promised to maim the kid and he still insists that they’re friends. If it wasn’t for the fact that he tested what the kid said about his suggestions not working before Vel took him to the spa, Vox would be questioning if he accidentally hypnotized the kid into liking him. Because none of that is normal. Then again, who the hell is normal down here?

The more he thinks on it, what was the kid’s plan? What if Alastor had been in the room? What if they were fighting? What if Vox was losing? Not that he would, because he wouldn’t be, but hypothetically. What would he do then?

He wasn’t good in a fight, that much was clear. He didn’t have powers, and certainly nothing that would stand up eldritch shadow demons…

Wait, did he just assume the kid would be on his side? Why did his calcs jump to that?

Feedback on his systems told him exactly why, playing back footage from the past several days. Simply, because Vox was his friend, and it was obvious now that there was little he wouldn’t do for his friends.

Oh, f*cking damn it. The kid latched on like tumor to the brain.

He liked that kid, selfishly and stupidly attached to him.

He was trying hard not to smile, but it’s difficult to force a face without muscles to do much of anything, especially when his program literally pours his thoughts into expression. And it was hard to be in a bad mood right now.

‘My man’. ‘My boys’. ‘My friend’.

“Voxxy, your screen is pink.”

“Shut up, Val.”

“Oh, it’s practically maroon now.”

“Shut the f*ck up, Val!”

Like adding gasoline to flame, the bedroom door was flung open. Distracted as he’d been, he failed to notice that Vel had come back from the spa and already jumped into pajamas. She kicked open the door, and waltzed in like she owned the place. In her arms, the kid dangled like a stuffed animal fresh out the dryer.

“I’m assuming since you guys are talking in full sentences that you’re done now?” Vel said. For once, her phone was tucked away, probably in a pocket in her lounge shorts.

“‘Till the morning, I suppose. It’s the best way to start mornings.” Val answered for them, a finger teasing the side of Vox’s head.

The kid’s expression was blank, like he was staring into a void. He was clean at least.

“What happened to you?” Vox asked.

“We went to the spa.” Mimicking Val, Velvette answered for the two of them. “I got everything done, including a two hour massage. The masseur was some centipede guy, thousand arms and all. You really need steal that guy, Vee. My back feels great.”

He kept looking at the kid, waiting for his answer. When he finally decided that he could answer with the other two around, he spoke like he was experiencing a flashback to a war.

“I now know what it’s like to be play-doh.”

Despite himself, Vox tossed his head back, rolling.

“Anyways,” Vel readjusted the kid in her arms and started walking over to the bed. “you two are dressed, yeah? Because this is an invasion.”

Well, Val was as dressed as Val ever is, kept decent just barely by the length of Vox’s robes. He really needed to start ordering them five sizes too tall at this point. As for himself, he had the decency to swap into regular pajamas…just in case he and kid couldn’t sleep and wanted to give Asteroids another go.

Not that Velvette waited for an answer. The bed was big, obviously. It had to be to hold Val. Save for when he unfolds his wings, the bed could hold an ungodly amount of people. Honestly, it was just cheaper to buy two of the same size bed when he was ordering Val’s. That’s the only reason it was so stupidly big. Vox didn’t share the bed often enough to warrant it, unlike Val.

Velvette climbed over him, landing just beneath his right arm and tucking herself against his chest. In doing so, she pulled off the blanket. Probably a smart decision because of how hot Vox was to sleep against. He was unofficially Velvette’s favorite that-time-of-the-month pillow. Val, to his left, just wrapped his arms around Vox’s legs and his left arm, as per always.

The kid was crushed in the space between Vel’s body and his own. With all that fur, he could imagine it was going to get very hot, very quickly there. Using the one arm that hadn’t been abducted yet, he punched the pillow beside his head. Then, he snuck down, plucked the kid up, and put him on it.

He was rewarded by an honest smile. In hell, that was a pretty rare gift.

Then, the little body wrapped around that arm, a big fluffy tail curling down and tickling his sides. Holy sh*t, he was small. The kid was curled almost entirely into the palm of his hand.

Before he even knew it, he was surrounded. Trapped, you might even say, by a tangled mess of bodies all fighting for a bit of his body heat.

Oh, there were worse ways to end the evening. Barring something amazing happening, like Alastor keeling over dead or Lucifer handing over his crown, this might just be as good as it gets.

You know, f*ck that heaven bullsh*t. This was heaven.

“’Night, Vee.” Velvette mumbled, half asleep.

“Night, guys.”

He didn’t get to sleep right away. He stayed awake long enough to hear the little noises, an offkey song of sleep. Val squeaked in his sleep, randomly. His wings would flutter together sometimes, but the fuzz on the scales kept it from sounding much more than the sound of skin touching skin. Vel talks in her sleep, sort of. She mumbles more than anything. It was never enough to make a sentence out of, in fact it sounded a bit like baby babble. Occasionally, her phone would ping, but he was so used to the sound now that it was basically a backtrack to his day.

The kid was the newest sound. He knew now that foxes could, apparently, squeak. But, as Vox was sitting there and gingerly gliding his fingers through freshly cleaned fur, he heard a different sound.

They purr? Why do they purr?

Unconsciously, the kid snuggled his face into Vox’s hand, the ridiculously soft coat almost swallowing up his digits.

Oh, this was all too cute. This was all too f*cking much for today. Cuteness aggression hit him like a truck again, and it was a struggle against every instinct in his body not to move, for fear of ruining it all by waking one of them up.

Then, he caught on something.

The collar that Velvette had put on the kid on day one was snug tight against his throat. Drowned out by his fur, Vox had almost forgotten about it. It felt so odd, out of place. The cold metal stuck flat to his skin, with only the little charm hanging a little more comfortably away.

He tugged a little, just enough to see it better.

The bright blue ‘V’ looked almost neon in the dark, surrounded by that deep red heart. It really did look like a dog collar like this, didn’t it?

Dehumanizing something was easy here. No one even looked human anymore. Very few acted human even when they were alive.

A few days ago, he didn’t give it a second thought. He couldn’t have cared less. Now though?

Carefully, he undid the little magnetic hook in the back. Unlike a normal collar, this one was designed to never come off, not unless one of the three of them did it. The key was a simple, a contrary magnetic pull that would activate the lock, but too strong or too weak of a pull would just break it and cause it to get stuck. Vel probably had the actual key in her room, but it didn’t take much of Vox’s power to undo a little magnetic flux.

He twirled it around the kid’s wrist instead, like a bracelet, not unlike the ones Velvette always wears anyways. As the clasp closed, his little paw wrapped around his palm, bringing it back up to his face and cradling it like a pillow.

“Night, Drift.” Vox said, before letting the night and its new symphony drag him off someplace nice.

That might’ve been the best sleep of his life.

Chapter 12

Chapter Text

He woke up to breakfast in bed. Apparently, the kid can manage toast too. And sunny side up eggs.

It’s weird that he didn’t wake up when the others did. It’s also weird for Valentino not to make good on his word and start their morning off with a literal bang. Was he ever going to complain about sleeping in and waking up to coffee, eggs, and toast? No, probably not. Was it inconvenient because he had things to do and now he was behind? Yes, absolutely.

Actually, that was also weird, he thought as he downed more of his coffee. Shouldn’t his assistant have woken him up? Or at least come in as a stuttering mess as always and remind him of the time. He might be terrified of Vox losing it at him, but he’d be far more afraid of what he will do to him if his ratings suffer.

Toast was currently keeping him from his rampage though. Huh, not half bad. Vox could do better, obviously. He had a whole show devoted to food. Though, come to think of it, it has been a while since their last breakfast special. Hm, maybe he could schedule it in for next week, surprise Val and Vel with their own breakfasts in bed. Nah, that’d be spoiling them too much. Then, they’d come to expect it, and Vox couldn’t do that every day.

He got an alert. Software update?

Oh. Oh yeah! He’d completely forgotten about that. Wow, actually, that put everything into a lot more context.

Occasionally, they roll out huge software updates through the Voxtek mainframe, programs for every system, every product, and every monitor in the whole of Hell. Yup, even those from other rings. It’s that big of an update. Whenever they do it, they decide to download anything that had been missing from previous, smaller updates. Basically, if something, anything was missed on a device from a previous update, it’s automatically queued to have it fixed up. This keeps everything running mostly on the same software and lets him renew things like malware protection in real time. And it also keeps him informed on any other information he might find useful: bank numbers, phone IDs, search history, and just generally those sorts of things. Hey, they agreed to the terms and conditions. It’s not his problem they didn’t read the fine line and figure out that Vox has rights to spy on them from their personal phones.

Obviously, since this was a Voxtek cross generational product update, it was a bit of a doozy. Sure, the usual citizens of Hell would just get a prompt and viola! Updated in record time! Did you even notice? Probably not, because it was too fast and convenient. Rejoice for living in the modern world.

But for Vox? Oh, boy.

It meant he was going to be feeling like crap all day. Every stupid notification of something that might’ve gone wrong is going to go buzzing through his head before the tech guys rush and fix it. That’s the problem with being permanently hooked up to the cyber cloud. He can’t get colds. He can get viruses, but he has so many different programs for dealing with them now, that he hardly notices them. That and Vox basically owns the internet down here. He’s usually the one giving other people viruses, which might mean they have to get new a phone, or computer, or whatnot. Anyways, these updates are what he imagines it would be like for someone dealing with a monthly migraine: annoying, unavoidable, and mostly things you suffer through.

Already he can feel it starting, the constant buzzing right between his eyes as thousands of citizens were the first people to update their systems. He pressed his hand a little too close to his screen, warping it for a moment, in a sad attempt to mitigate the pain. Another problem with having a TV for a head? Medications don’t help with his kind of headache. He’d have to just suck it up and get on with his day.

Speaking of, the morning broadcasts.

He plucked another piece of toast in his mouth as he crawled out of bed. The residual body heat of his co-workers, and the kid, almost evaporated in the cold air of his room. Involuntarily, he shivered.

It was probably for the best that they weren’t here. Hell, they probably got the news about the update from his assistant and decided to bail. Vox…wasn’t known for dealing with his headaches in a healthy way. He tries not to aim that at people that matter, like Val and Vel, but he can’t say the same for his employees. He had short fuse on days like today, sue him.

Oh, wait. You can’t. He owns your soul, and you signed a contract.

Still, the morning ritual called and he quickly got dressed. Val and Vel had left his room a bit of a mess, though mostly Val. His clothes were still thrown about the room, uncaring and abandoned. Vox knew he was expected to have it folded and set back after dry cleaning. Vel’s presence was mostly noted by the absurd amount of pillows that either got tossed around or were piled up on one side of the bed. Even with all the rest of them there, she still felt the need to rearrange things to her liking or until aesthetically pleasing. Typical Vel.

A quick check over, adjusting his shirt, and correcting his bowtie, and he was ready. Not that he felt ready. Personally, that bed was looking very inviting again, messed up or not.

A pinch, like a smack between the eyes jumped up just then, and his face bluescreened for a moment. Somebody hadn’t updated their absurd number of devices in a very, very long time. Oh, joy.

Mind already elsewhere, he hadn’t thought to jump around to check on the rest of the tower. He already had a splitting headache, he really didn’t want his consciousness splitting any more at the moment. Obviously, it would have to later, when he plugged himself in and leapt into cyberspace, but for now, it was something to be avoided as much as physically possible.

Either way, he’d completely neglected the kid.

“Hey! Heard you’d need a hand in the studio today. Can I help?”

He walked out to the kid already dressed up. Not casual, or even stylishly uncomfortable, Vel dressed him up in a business outfit. She’d put him in a little tie, with their branded ‘V’ hidden in decorative designs. A formal black vest crossed on top of a long sleeve collared white shirt. The sleeves themselves were closed with buttons also designed like ‘V’s. Either him or Vel, probably Vel, rolled them up to just above his elbows. It wasn’t something an adult could pull off, but it looked nice on the kid. The pants were deceptively simple, but Vox could see tailored quality from there. Every stitch seemed hand done. She also put him in a little cap, reminiscent of the ones Vox remembers newsboys wearing back when they were calling out advertisem*nts for the paper. It’s a modern version, clearly, and was more formal in fitting.

Overall, he looked dressed for that conference that he lied about yesterday.

“And how exactly do you plan on doing that?” He groaned, trying to get irritation out of his voice. There was no need to snap at the kid. It might not have the same drawbacks as snapping at Val or Vel, but he really didn’t want to deal with his own emotional turmoil.

“Well, your assistant said you had an in-person interview today and that you hate those, and I think he was kinda hoping I could stop you from murdering the staff.”

“Trust me, if I want to murder the staff, there’s not much you could do.” His screen flicked again, and the kid jumped up in alarm. Before he freaked out, Vox put his hand up to stop him. “I’m fine. Just a system update.”

“It looks like it hurts.” He mumbled.

“It’s…fine. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

“…okay, but that doesn’t make it ‘fine’.”

“Kid!” He snapped, and immediately regretted it. “Just…I’m not in the mood.”

The kid’s ears flicked down, and his hands went to pick at themselves. On his wrist, the little bracelet danced like a chime. The glimmer of it looked like a fishing lure, and less like a pet collar. The kid’s fingers toyed with it for a moment, but his focus was still on Vox, a quiet worry on his lips.

“…you know what? You can help. I’m always needing a new donut boy.” Or, in his case, muffin boy.

That seemed to lift his spirits. At the very least, he didn’t look like a beaten puppy anymore.

“Come on. We’ve got work to do.” Vox directed more from movement than from gesture, heading to the lift for the monitor room. His interview wouldn’t be until later, and he had to play catch up with his other programs at the moment. The kid stuck to his side. In the lift, he moved as close to Vox as possible. He really didn’t seem to like heights, huh? Or maybe the idea of falling down all the levels of Vee tower was just too intimidating, especially after he damn near climbed the whole thing with his nails.

His arm came up for a moment, looking like he was going to grab his hand, but he paused and dropped it back to his side. Yesterday’s rejection was probably fresh in his head still.

Today wasn’t yesterday though. Things keep moving forwards and, well, Vox has come to terms with it. He didn’t offer his hand, but he did reach down and drop his palm between the kid’s ears, right on top of the head. Surprise turned to joy as Vox playfully smushed down.

“Hey!” The kid laughed.

“Your hat wasn’t on right.”

“Liar.” He said between giggles.

You know, despite the headache, he managed to smile.

“Would I lie to you?”

“Yes.” The kid’s answer was automatic, but there was nothing there suggesting that he was bothered by this fact. Or that he expected anything else. At least he’s learning.

Still Vox played a dramatic song from his screen tracks, playing up just how ‘hurt’ he was from such a comment. The kid joking rolled his eyes.

“And here I thought we were friends.” He kidded, the background music filling with an overdramatically sad violin piece.

Aaaannd he f*cked up. He shouldn’t have said that. He had said it more ironic than actually meaning it, but the kid f*cking beamed. He couldn’t have been brighter if he was a lighthouse. It was almost intolerable.

Then, the kid wrapped his arms around Vox’s legs. He was too short to reach much else. He pressed his face against his pants, and he could feel the smile through the fabric. Some sort of noise rose out of his throat, something that Vox assumed meant he was happy. It was a chirp, or similar, that bled into a purr. Okay, that’s more than enough.

He pushed the kid away. He even went for a displeased groan.

“Alright, that’s enough.”

The kid didn’t care. Nothing was going to spoil his mood now. His tail was wagging and his ears were perked up from excitement. Hell, he was practically jumping in place, kept only from actually jumping because they were still in the lift.

“You admitted it.”

“I did not.”

“You said we were friends.”

“It’s called sarcasm.”

“That didn’t sound sarcastic to me.” He chirped.

“Kid, I broadcast on TV. Half the things I say are sarcastic.” It was a dumb lie and they both knew it.

The kid gave one short look to his wrist, to the chain, then back up at Vox. Ah, well, that was rather undeniable evidence, wasn’t it? He could always claim he did it with the delusion of sleep, but then he’d have to explain why the kid was sleeping in the palm of his hand. Either argument wasn’t good.

“If you say so.” The kid was mocking him now. Ordinarily, he’d be throwing him down the lift for that. Oh, Vox, what have you gotten yourself into?

“Yes, well-”

“And thank you, by the way. About the collar. It was giving me carpet burn on my neck.”

He considered that.

He’s a kid, Vox was reminded again. He’s not sure he could understand what he meant by putting it on his wrist instead. Kids weren’t so good at reading other people. That’s part of being a kid, the underlying selfishness, the ability to do things without a sickening guilt or thoughts of consequences. He might not ever understand, and Vox accepted that. Honestly, he didn’t even really care. He did what he did for entirely selfish reasons. That’s all.

…Still, he was a weird kid. He’s yet to see him act entirely selfish for…well, anything. Maybe it was out of necessity. He was kidnapped after all. Pleasing your kidnappers, that was a strategy, wasn’t it? Endear yourself to them? This whole thing could’ve been his goal from day one but…well, he kinda doubts it. He’s never tried to run, for starters, or fight back. If his goal was to gain enough trust to take advantage of him later, he’s done a pretty sh*tty job in the later part of that plan.

Maybe he did know. Maybe he wasn’t saying it like that to save Vox’s ego. Maybe…just maybe, he really wasn’t out for something.

“It’s got a tracker in it.” He stated. “The rubbing could affect the signal, so it’s just better that it’s on your wrist. Besides, Vel would blame me if you had a mark in pictures.”

It wasn’t untrue, per say. The tracker wasn’t fine tuned enough that Vox could see where the kid was in the building, only that he hadn’t left. Otherwise, he would’ve just activated it when he couldn’t find him, both times. That said, rubbing would have no effect on it. Several layers of concrete, steel, and lead would have no effect on how well that thing works. He was pretty proud of its effectiveness, given it was originally his design not some unpaid intern’s.

“Okay, whatever you say.” He said before turning his attention to the opening lift doors. He was the first one out, but he spun in place, seemingly to make sure Vox was right behind him. That stupid smile was still on his face.

…he knew, right? About what it meant. He had to.

Not that it had to mean anything. Because it really didn’t mean anything.

God, was he lying to himself now? Just when the headaches couldn’t get worse.

The sharks darted out with incredible speed, as they always did first thing in the morning. Instead of rushing straight to Vox though, they quickly brushed by where the kid ran over to greet them. At the window, they took turns passing by and staring at the kid, sometimes fighting with each other briefly for the view. The only time he’d seen them this excited was right before Vox dropped someone bleeding into the tank. The blood dripping down stirred them up, making the water look like it housed crazed piranhas rather than sharks. It’s like a frenzy then, of fins and teeth. This wasn’t so vicious, but it had just as much energy.

“Morning, Anchor! Morning, Barge!” The kid waved.

Vox was silently thanking some higher power that they couldn’t wave back.

“Are you trying to tame my sharks? You realize how stupid that is, right? You know they’re literal maneaters.”

At the term ‘maneater’, he cringed a bit. Vox imagines the memory of his stupid technician screaming bloody murder was probably running through his mind again. Can’t say he blames him, the man was ridiculously loud, only shutting up after one of the sharks grabbed the head. Still, the kid’s head tilted a bit.

“I’m not trying to tame them. You can’t tame sharks. They’re predators. They’ll act on instinct.” He mentioned, as if Vox should know this. “But that doesn’t mean they have to see me as food, you know?”

Unfortunately, he does know. A little too much.

“They’ll still eat you the second they think they can.” Or if they got hungry enough, desperate enough. Then, nobody was safe.

“…they’re not mindless maneaters? They’re just trying to survive. That’s all.”

“Yeah, and survival here means eating whoever I drop in the tank.” He almost chuckled. Taming might not be the term he’d use, but his sharks were very used to routine: intimidate, threaten, and devour. They did their job, and they did it well. Positive reinforcement still had its uses. It’s a very easy way to get yourself attack sharks.

Though, right now, they weren’t exactly doing their best work. The kid wasn’t at all afraid of them, nor were they baring teeth or snapping their jaws. No, his man-eating sharks were circling about and gliding by the direction of his fingertips. There wasn’t even a reward to it. They only lost energy and time. But they still did it. Why? Their own amusem*nt? Or maybe the idea of making the stupid fox boy cry bothered them enough to at least pretend to be nice.

Again, Vox knows the feeling way too much.

“Will you be okay broadcasting with headaches? I’m guessing an Advil wouldn’t help.” The kid asked, pulling away from the tank. The sharks, lacking their new toy, rushed off to where their breakfast was dropped from, once Vox gave a quick snap of his fingers.

A gameshow sound dinged, declaring in a helpfully obnoxious tone that somebody just won a prize. He wished he had that ability while he was alive, the ability to make anything sound snarkier just by what bit he played.

“We have a winner, ladies and gentlemen!” He sat down in his chair, stretching a bit before he spent the next while seated. “It’s a software thing, not a hardware thing. So, no, Advil doesn’t help. And like I said before, it’s far from the first time I’ve done this. It’ll be fine.”

He made a mental note to clock out of here about two hours to noon. There was a lot to prep for this interview after all, and he didn’t trust his stage crew enough to leave them alone without instructions. Actually, now that he thinks about it…

“So, the interview. You know who’s going to be in the hotseat?”

His lips pursed while he thought, and he crossed his arms while thinking. He already looked like a plushy. Did he have to mimic f*cking Pooh Bear now?

No, Vox. Don’t squeeze the ever loving sh*t outta the kid.

He did, however, flick his ears. They twitched but returned back to their original position right after. He didn’t pull away this time. Instead, the question seemed to take up all the room in that small skull of his.

“Well…it’s not Vel or Val. They would’ve said something about it this morning. Hmm…not anyone from the hotel…maybe another overlord? Carmilla Carmine?”

It wasn’t a bad line of thinking, though Vox doubts he’d ever convince the queen of the arms race to come on his show. She was a snob and, yes, another of the old regime that needed to be swept out. Ever since her little tat with Velvette, Carmilla’s been hard to get on the phone, much less on his show. Besides, what would he really have to ask her about? Her hobbies? Interests? She was boring as a brick and half as memorable in a conversation. Everything always came back to those f*cking girls of hers. Ugh, yeah, we get it. They’re mommy’s special little snowflakes. And, oh, mommy loves them so much! Wanna see baby pictures? Gag me.

“That’s strike one.” Vox pulled up a finger to emphasize.

This little game brought out a fire in him. The thinking, and the parallels to a certain old bear, got worse.

“Okay, not Carmilla. Rosie wouldn’t, I think. Who does that leave?” Then, an idea sprung up and he seemed downright pleased with himself. “Wait! Is it one of the Sins?”

Oh, that was a good one. And an idea that he’d been hoping to make happen for a really long time now. Honestly, any of the Sins would bring his reputation to new heights, though he did have his eyes on a few select ones. Mammon would be good for marketing purposes, obviously. Interviews that guy did, even though crap in quality, were eaten up by the denizens of Hell. Literally the man only needed to say he liked something of Vox’s, even the f*cking background, and they could sell the wallpaper of the set for an obscene amount.

Asmodeus was Val’s choice. Of course he was. He was literally walking lust, sex, and desire on legs. If Valentino wasn’t going to f*ck or get f*cked by Asmodeus before or after the show, he might just die of sadness. That said, Vox was a little...hesitant about bringing Asmodeus there. I mean…not for nothing, because he was a great lay, mind you but…this was the prince of lust they were talking about. Would Val even want him once he’s had someone like that? He wasn’t sure, and he doesn’t like uncertain data.

Velvette’s choice kept changing. Right now, she was focused on Beelzebub, though Vox is pretty sure it’s only because she desperately wants to be invited to one of her parties. Apparently, the internet is starved for that kind of content, and most every footage taken of the events are crap quality. She’s hoping to be the first with that inside scoop, that taste of ‘#Sinlife’. Personally, Vox wasn’t crazy about the idea of Velvette hanging out with a bunch of low class hellhounds but whatever. Her call, he’d suppose.

“What if it is?” He teased. “Who would you think?”

“Well, I mean…honestly? I kinda hope it’s Ozzie.” He hummed. “Bel’s nice too though! Not Mammon though, he’s sorta gross.”

He had to stop and think on that for a second. He’s a kid. As in, far, far too young for Asmodeus’ crowd. Also, where the f*ck did he get the audacity to call the Prince of Lust, ‘Ozzie’?

“Why would you want to see Asmodeus? Also, why the hell do you have a nickname for him?”

“He likes being called Ozzie by friends. Also, he’d kinda the best? I love Ozzie.”

“…did you just imply that your friends with Asmodeus?”

“Vox, I live with the King of Hell. And his daughter. Is that really so shocking?”

Um, well…when you put it that way…

“Okay, granted, but still. Kids shouldn’t be around that horny sh*t all the time.”

“…there’s literally a p*rn studio downstairs.”

Yeah, Vox has lost this debate. His argument sunk like battleships, and every shot of his missing its mark. But defeat wasn’t something he wanted to admit to or acknowledge. Instead, he moved the line of questioning further along.

“Well, that’s strike two though. Not interviewing a Sin, at least not today. One last shot left.”

“Um…” He was stumped, clearly. No amount of tapping on his temple was going to change that. Not that Vox exactly blames him here. “…I don’t know. Can’t think of anyone else important enough that you’d want to interview.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The kid swayed on his heels, hands toying with the tie around his neck. He was loosening it slightly, giving him more room to breathe. It also served as a nice distraction while he seemed to piece together what he wanted to say into words.

“I mean…you’re an overlord. You own the largest tech company in Hell, and you’re the literal face of modern media down here.” His hands now reached to the rim of the hat, pulling it up slightly and giving Vox a better view of his expression. “I think there’s, like, a handful of people that you’d waste time on. And all of them I just named so…I’m not sure who else is left.”

He wasn’t wrong. Vox really, really hated wasting his time on wastes of flesh.

Unfortunately, either of the kid’s choices would’ve been better than the actual guest of the day, some popstar that’s been gaining a lot of traction lately. As of now, she was on track to be the next Verosika Mayday, which in turn was causing a lot of talk online. They hated each other, apparently. Vox wouldn’t be caught dead picking a side, especially when he didn’t know the winner, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t love to throw some fuel on the fire. Her fans would leap up to watch the show, and her haters would feed off every word she said, particularly if Vox asked about the succubus’ current tour and the new girl’s thoughts. Then, he’d just sit back and enjoy the views as the drama writes itself.

Either way, he figured the kid would know her. She was popular among the newer sinners down here. By coincidence, she was also a fox demon too, though you’d be hard stretched to find many similarities otherwise. She was party girl, not some hardworking soul pathetically attempting some form of redemption.

Personally, he wasn’t the biggest fan of the new pop scene. But he did like the name. He’ll give her an A+ for marketing.

“Vixie the Vandal.” He said. A name like that was just begging for a Vee promotion, which is probably why she jumped to appear on the show. “Famous popstar, media model, and rising figurehead of the music scene.”

“…the one that looks like a glowstick?”

He chuckled, catching his sides as he sat down in his chair. A short, painful spike pinched the back of his head when he moved too quickly. The smile was still plastered on though.

“Don’t think I’ve ever heard her called that before. You a Verosika Mayday fan?”

“Not really into either of them. I’m a fan of good music.” He teased.

He laughed a little harder. Well, what do you know? He had a little bite to him after all, very little. As in, Vel posted a pic this morning of the kid eating a cinnamon bun and called it cannibalism. It had well over two million likes as of right now.

“Ouch, that’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

“I was just teasing. Their music is…fine, I guess? Just not my cup of tea, I think.” Then, he paused for a second. “Well, that and Verosika needs a therapist or something. She really needs to get over her ex.”

You know, he didn’t think the drama was going to start early, but he was invested now. Besides, this would be great kindling for later.

“What makes you say that?”

He sighed.

“She makes a lot of comments. Also, if you say you don’t care anymore and then write, like, ten songs about how your ex can screw off, you’re not over your ex.”

Vox recorded that little line for later.

“And how do you know that?” He prodded, leaning a little forward to look down at him. He was too little for feelings that mattered. When and how did he learn to be an authority on ‘love’?

The kid scrunched, like he hadn’t even realized that he knew that much. It made him look like he downed a lemon.

“…I dunno know. Just watching, I think. Almost everyone I know have the worst relationships.”

Vox raised a brow at that.

“Well, not everyone. Obviously.” He argued.

The lemon face was turned on him now. He puffed out an exasperated breath just looking at Vox. And, okay, granted, he didn’t exactly have a ‘standard’ relationship. It definitely wasn’t healthy in any way. But it was fun, and Vox liked it just as it was. Sure, he had his…share of complaints. Like the bill run up for tech maintenance and hardware replacements but-

Hang on, since when did he let anyone judge him?

“Whatever you’re about to say, don’t.” He warned.

One knowing look later, and the topic was dropped.

Vox twitched a nerve and brought the systems to life. His prerecorded programs were doing their magic, as per always. He tended to keep a few tucked away for a rainy day, just in case he ever needed a short break. The only thing that was less effective was the hypnotism. It worked, sure, but it wasn’t the same as having the real-time Vox doing it. Still not sure why. It was over the same screens, and neither were using his actual body. He still had to figure out that little conundrum.

Across his view, the update was going smoothly enough. People seemed happy with the results: smoother run speed, brighter colors, greater protection against invading bugs. On his company feed, he was getting plenty of complements for the free service. The usual song and dance played back to them: Here at Voxtek, we value our customers and their feedback. Thank you for trusting us with your time and investments!

“Hey, can I pick a movie tonight?”

“Kid, what did I say about interrupting?”

“Sorry…” The ears drooped. They were so big that he’s half convinced the kid could use them to fly if he flapped them hard enough.

“Eugh, fine. Whatever. I still have to show you the fish film anyways.”

Silently, he wondered what movie the kid would even want to watch. He honestly couldn’t tell. With hope, it’d at least be a good one…though they might have to wait until the other two pass out first. The last thing Vox needed was to be teased about watching an old as crap movie or hear the complaints about the lack of action or sex. This was all assuming the kid didn’t want to watch some childish bullsh*t of course. He could be wrong, but so far the kid’s proven to have some taste at least. Meh, the hope’s still there.

A particularly high traffic moment occurred just then, flickering the screens around. Yes, it would be about this time that anyone who had a moment caught onto the notification. That and given the media traffic talking about it, he’d suppose that those who didn’t know about it were quickly brought up to speed.

“You know, I bet there’s a way to filter through all of that.” The kid’s voice jumped up. “Some kind of secondary failsafe to hit before it goes directly to you.”

Hmm. That…wasn’t a bad idea. In theory.

“Yeah, but then the I’d have to manually upload anything of interest.” The whole point of the update, aside from keeping the system up to standard, was to feed in as much relevant info as possible. If there was separate secondary unit, then he’d have to go through that and possibly miss something important. Half of the point was getting it as quickly as he could. And how much quicker does it get than directly uploading to his brain?

“It doesn’t have to be an entirely separate unit. Link directly to it, but have it comb through standard glitches, notifications, and bugs. If something goes wrong, it hits the unit first instead. Should keep you from getting a headache at least.”

“…what if I don’t want that information saved anywhere else?”

“Then delete the drive after the update. Simple.”

Huh.

“You sure you don’t want to work for me?”

He giggled.

“Thanks, but I’d rather drive the car than sit behind a desk. No offense.”

He can get that. Back when he was alive, that was the most tedious part of the job. Late nights spent wasting away over paperclips and deadlines. Even now, desk work was the slowest part of the day. Doesn’t matter how many secretaries and assistants you hire, there’s always going to be more paperwork. On the plus side, he never was entirely stuck there. A benefit of his media empire, he can work and be distracted at nearly the same time. Ah, networking. It has its advantages.

“None taken. I’m just saying you’ve got a talent, kid. Don’t let it go to waste.”

“I’m not. I’m helping a friend out.”

There he goes again, saying stupid crap out loud. And no, he wasn’t overthinking it like a moron. Thank you.

He reached down and scrubbed the hat into the kid’s hair again. Just like before, there was very little he could do to stop the assault, and, in the end, he gave up trying. Not that he personally planned to stop bothering him at any point, mind you. He can give up all he wants, that wasn’t going to get Vox to do the same. With the tip of his finger, he flicked the front of the cap up, revealing the kid’s green eyes. His own screen reflected in those oversized pupils, and he catches himself smiling a little too familiarly.

Watch it, Vox.

He trained himself back a bit.

“Go get me a coffee.”

“Same as always?” He asked.

‘Always’? As if it had been any longer than a week.

“Yeah, same as always. Maybe tasting a bit less like sh*t if you wouldn’t mind.”

The kid raced out with a skip in his step. Not two feet behind him, the sharks followed to the end of the tank. Vox’s eyes followed him even after that, all the way to the coffee bar and, eventually, back again.

Chapter 13

Chapter Text

“So, this is where the magic happens, huh?”

Well, he wasn’t sure about the ‘magic’ part at the moment.

All around, Vox2Nite was being set up for the live show. The lighting staff were having a hell of a time with the colored spotlights, especially since Vox had already screamed at them to get it the f*ck fixed before his next live show. And they didn’t. So, now they’re on this sharks’ dinner menu later.

Joining them as the appetizer, the sound booth demons were running around with every cable and wire possible in the small space. One guy was walking around with a headset tied to a microphone, scanning around like he was searching for buried treasure. According to the guy with a literal boombox for a face, there was some kind of white noise playing in the background of the shoot and they just couldn’t figure out where it was coming from.

Dessert was going to end up being the f*cking camera guy who won’t stop chewing his f*cking gum so loud. In light of literally everything else going wrong, hearing the random pop of a bubble was driving him damn near insane. Well, that or his migraine was on the precipice of being painful enough to make him want to bash his head into his own desk. Smile, Vox! Camera’s still rolling! Well, not literally yet, but he didn’t want to make a scene right before they filmed. Could set them back, and lord knows he wanted this interview over and done with yesterday.

“Why are the chairs so stiff?”

The kid was sitting in the one opposite of him, having jumped into it the moment Vox sat down. The break, if you could call it that, wasn’t for long, mind you. It was still a ways off from filming time, but there was only so much yelling anyone could do without your own voice echoing back into your skull. It was just a short break, okay?

Anyways, obviously the first thing the kid does is spin around in the interview chair. Vox took another sip of his drink. Not coffee this time. If he had another coffee today, he might become acquainted with the big man upstairs. No, this was some kind of energy water that Vel swears by. It was tinted blue, but being a screen meant it couldn’t exactly stain his teeth blue at least. So far, it’s succeeded in making Vox want another coffee.

“It helps you sit straight for the interview.” He explained, glancing down at his talking points again for this Vixie girl. Bring up her recent hit, mention the Verosika drama from Voxtagram the other day, pull it together with the plug about Mayday’s new concert venues and tours, bring it back around to her upcoming album.

The kid sat in the chair how you’re supposed to, only to be too short to see over the top of Vox’s desk. Vox had to stifle a laugh.

“Need a booster seat, kid?”

“Haha, very funny.” He chittered back. He readjusted himself, sitting down on his knees. He still didn’t reach the desk. “Really? Am I that short?”

“You are pathetic.” Vox agreed, tutting a finger his direction. “You know, they say that everyone hates something about the way that they look down here. Part of the ‘curse’ of being in hell so I’m told.”

“That makes sense.” He then quickly added. “But I don’t hate my height. I’m the perfect size for Imp City folks. I just hang around a lot really tall sinners for some reason.”

“What do you hate then?” He prodded.

“My ears.” He said with a point. “Have you seen them? They’re radar dishes. I’m surprised I haven’t picked up the aliens yet with these things.”

Vox may have hit his desk a little harder than he meant to, a laugh ripping violently from him for a moment. Around, some of his workers stopped and stared. Usually, when he was laughing like he meant it, it meant someone else was having a very, very bad time. Or he was having fun ruling over his little empire, either or really. It wasn’t often he laughed in front of them. Moreover, it was also the first time any of them met the kid face to face.

If he had to guess, he’d say there was a bit of underlying jealousy there. When you have as many people working for you as he does, competition becomes fierce. Each one of them would throw the other to Anchor and Barge for just a moment of Vox’s time, possibly to pitch a new idea or simply to impress the big man in charge. He never discouraged it. Honestly, it led to some pretty amusing antics. Other times, he used it as enticement for better, harder work. All that was ever required for it was just slightly more of his attention. Seemed like a fair trade.

That said, if he so much as catches them looking at the kid wrong, he swears to God-

Okay, wow. Where did that come from?

Oh, yeah. Attachment. And possible mental instability from the raging f*cking migraine.

“You sure an Advil wouldn’t work?” The kid’s face fell.

What, did he read minds or something? That would explain a lot. Then again, that could also prove useful. Imagine all the things he could do ripping thoughts straight from Alastor’s horned skull.

But he doubts it. Fun thought experiment though.

More likely an error screen popped up while he wasn’t paying attention.

“Kid, a shot of opium straight to the head wouldn’t help. Advil’s not gonna cut it.”

Crestfallen, the kid shrank down almost too low for even Vox to see in his seat. Only the tips of his ears poked up above the desk.

“You know, I really don’t know why you care.” That was a lie.

“’Cause I don’t want to see you in pain.” The kid knew the game by now. He just kept looking at Vox like a man who’s too obsessed with playing the game that he hadn’t realized it was checkmate two turns ago.

“You know I kidnapped you, right?” That one was the truth, even if started to feel more like he adopted a cat left in a box.

“Technically, your guys did that part.”

“Pfft, details.”

The kid snickered into this arm, muffing the sound as his sound tech guys walked by for the millionth f*cking time.

That stupid makeshift radar didn’t seem to be detecting much more than the sound of his voice, if the pacing was anything to go by. By happenstance of having a screen for a head, there is sometimes a buzzing sound that just naturally emits from around him. It’s gotten better with time. The better technology has gotten, as TVs got more advanced, he’s had time to make a better head for himself. You’d be hard stretch to notice a sound like that anymore, if at all. Freaked the f*ck out of Val when he first swapped it out. Turns out Val’s antenna were sensitive enough to the noise that he just naturally knew when Vox was around…and it also turns out that if you swap out your head and don’t tell your nearly blind ass on-and-off boyfriend about it, he grabs the nearest heavy object and lunges it at the source of the saying ‘Hey, Val, check out the new tech!’.

The object was a lamp, and Vox needed another new TV afterwards. Both of them swore never to speak of it again.

“Is he still looking for where the buzzing sound is coming from?”

“Yeah, he-!” Hang on just a second. “Wait, I didn’t tell you about that.”

“You didn’t have to. It’s really annoying.”

“What is?”

“The sound.”

“You can hear it?” Honestly, he almost thought his sound guys were making up at this point. The only reason he didn’t just throw them in the tank for lying to him was because there was no reason for them to lie. Unless they wanted to be shark bait. Knowing this was his crowd and not Val’s, he was willing to bet that wasn’t a kink for any of them.

“Yeah.” He pointed to his ears again. “I told you. They’re radar dishes.”

“What’s it sound like?” Guess he was going to have to take those guys off the list…unless they don’t find the source of the problem.

“You know when a TV station gets cut out? That long beeping thing that happens when the aliens invade in a movie or a disaster happens or something?”

“The rainbow screen of death?” Oh, Vox knew it. Unfortunately.

“Yeah, that one. It sounds like that.”

“Well, I don’t hear anything, and if I don’t hear anything then it’s probably not going to be caught over the cameras.” It was all an extension of himself. They saw and heard what he wanted them to. If he couldn’t hear it normally and with all of his audio upgrades, he highly doubts in person studio cameras were going to be much different.

Still, the kid looked uncomfortable. And, well, it’s not as if Vox doesn’t have a solution to a noise issue. He snapped his fingers, making his assistant leap over.

“Y-yes, Mr. Vox?”

“Go get a set of those headphones, will you?” Just as the kid started perking up, he added. “No need to waste free advertisem*nt, right?”

He could just have the kid wear them in the background or place them on the desk until the commercial break. His assistant walked a few feet before speaking into his headset, telling someone further down the totem pole to get a set here ASAP. As he said, rivalries and internal competition drive efficiency.

“It will be here momentarily, sir.”

“Good. Speaking of things that are supposed to be here, where is she?”

The drama queen herself has yet to arrive. She technically didn’t have to be here so early, but given how excited her manager had been on the phone, he expected that she’d be earlier than her scheduled makeup session.

As it turns out, he didn’t really need to ask, because she took that moment to barge right in, knocking into the sound guy still hunting for clues and breaking the nearby spotlight. The glass flew across the floor, shocking the coffee girl and making her drop her tray right on top of the teleprompter. That sparked and, as part of the next domino, made the camera guy with gum turn a toasty color from his feet to his fins.

To all this, the apparent ‘Vixie’ had only one thing to say.

“Wow, you guys really need to get your sh*t together.”

Oh, joy. This is going to be one of those interviews, huh?

The popstar waltzed in with a newfound respect for the space, likely trying to avoid any more glass on the floor. She was a thin little thing, favoring her hips as she swayed. Averagely tall but wearing opened heels, every step was accompanied by the clicking of her nails against the diamond stuttered pieces. She tossed off a jacket, revealing a top that didn’t leave much to the imagination. Apparently, she’s ditched the rave look for the interview, going for something more sparkly bohemian. A bright red mark on otherwise white fur suggested she’d probably been stabbed to death, maybe a former lover or something given the heart shape.

Vox wasn’t an expert on foxes, but were they supposed to look that different from each other? They looked like two entirely different animals, one of the stuffed variety and the other off of Val’s showroom.

It was about then that she noticed him. She audibly gasped, a little too much showmanship there. Oh, she was really going to start digging that hole already.

“Oh! You must be the big daddy, Vee.” She swayed too much and walked a little too slow over to where Vox was sitting. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you! I’m Vixie, Vixie Vandal.”

“Charmed.” He put on his usual bullsh*t smile, the one currently hiding a massive growl of headache induced pain. “Though I could tell from that entrance who you are! Not everyday I get someone your stature walking in here. And, please, you can just call me Vox.”

The kid looked like he was going to puke. Still too immature for adult things, clearly.

“Vox.” She said, announcing the name like she wanted to keep the taste of it on her lips. “I like it.”

The kid made a gag noise. Vixie turned on point.

“Who’s the hairball?”

“…you’re calling me a hairball?” He asked, incredulous.

To be fair, while Vixie’s fur didn’t have the length, it was certainly made up for in volume. She’d probably overheat on the ice caps looking like that. Can’t say he blames her for the revealing outfit.

“This,” Vox interrupted. “is Drift. He’s…” Um, what was he now? He wasn’t an employee. He didn’t count as pet so much anymore, not after Vox moved the collar. He didn’t act like a kidnapped child. “…just getting out of your seat.”

Thankfully, the kid didn’t argue. He jumped up, brushed it off, and went to stand in the corner. Vox flagged one of the stagehands and they dragged over a studio chair for him to sit in. Surprising the staff, he thanked them. Honestly, they looked almost as mad about the ‘thanks’ as they were that kid was currently sitting on Vox’s personal studio chair, name printed on it and everything. Only two other people were allowed to sit there before. Not that Vox cared, really. It was uncomfortable and only existed because Vel decided to monogram a bunch of the seats, making filming look more ‘professional’. It became a silent throne among his workers.

To sit there, where the king of media sat? It was almost as good as his lap for some of these freaks.

To the kid though? It just seemed like an uncomfortable chair. Vox watched as he pulled his tail across his lap rather than trying to stuff it in the small open space in the back.

“Mr. Vox, sir. Your headphones-”

His employee cut off his train of thought, only to himself be cut off by a random reach over by the popstar. Like she was on autopilot, her hand lunged over and snatched up the device. Instead of addressing his stuttering mess of an assistant, she went right on to Vox.

“Oh my god! I’ve been trying to get a hold of a pair of these for days! They’re out of stock everywhere.” She looped them around her neck, finger tracing the signature metal ‘V’ on the side. It was too sensual an action to be mistaken for anything other than what it was. To be honest, Vox was more annoyed that she assumed that she was owed them, didn’t even bother asking.

Not that he was ever going to let that show. He didn’t lose these types of games, and certainly not close to airtime.

“Restocks are coming in shortly.” He explained, sounding businessman helpful. “Distribution is taking a bit, and we want to ensure our costumers all have the same chance to get a hold of these little guys.”

“Mind if I wear them for the interview? My followers are going to lose it when they see I got a pair.”

She was buttering him up now. Not a bad strategy. Certainly better than waltzing in like she just walked in from downstairs. Of course, he’d never say no to free advertisem*nt. Her wearing them around her neck while the interview went on would boost sales, no doubt about that. She was popular. Not Velvette popular, obviously, but they ran in different crowds. She’d attract a different audience, a new patch of mind-controlled cronies for the taking. And who was he to say no to that?

On the side though, he knew that Verosika had also been looking for a pair, posted it on her feed and everything. This was all just salt in the wound to her.

Hey, drama drives attention. That was the whole point of her being here anyways.

“As long as you don’t put them on!” He said with a grin. “I don’t think the interview would go so well if you couldn’t hear a word I said!”

She laughed, fake and overindulgent. The kid rolled his eyes from the chair. He quietly hushed him, pressing a finger to his mouth while Vixie was distracted by her own performance.

“They didn’t say you were funny.” She purred. “Charming, ambitious, and sexy as all seven hells, but no one said anything about you being funny.”

She leaned forward in her seat, batting her eyes. Vox rested in his like any other interview.

“You know, after this I was thinking-”

She didn’t get to finish the obvious.

“Mr. Vox, the analytics department just sent the updated form.” His assistant, trying to avoid the killer glare Vixie was giving him, brought up his pad and sent something into the cloud. The data was looking better this time, though he noted some unintended errors, something that wouldn’t be caught unless you had a computer for a head and every stupid equation programed behind your eyes to check for things like this.

As he was trying to be in better mood, he decided he wasn’t going to add them as an extra snack for his pets, so long as this gets addressed now. Anchor and Barge are going to end up like oversized blimps otherwise.

“Excuse me for a moment.” Vox dipped his head towards Vixie. “Be back in a second.”

They stepped out. The studio was big enough for what it needed to be, but it wasn’t exactly the place to be talking about data. That and he could hardly hear himself think with all the racket about.

“Shouldn’t we be seeing a 12.8% increase from last quarter?” He groaned. God, the pain hitting his head was getting worse. Numbers and calcs weren’t helping him with it either.

“We should, sir. But it seems like there was an outlier in the data and…well, they didn’t really know what to make of it.”

Oh, yes. Outliers. The stupid data points that never seemed to make any sense in any meaning of the word. Didn’t follow the trends, didn’t do what was expected, and royally f*cked up any standard set before them. You couldn’t track them, couldn’t account for them. They didn’t follow an equation nor could you even guess when they might occur. It’s like the world just refused to be completely on track. Chaos had to insert itself somewhere, somehow. If only just enough to make Vox question his judgement.

“Take out the outlier then.” He snapped. “It’s too outside the norm to be considered with the rest of it.”

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”

There was some more talk after that, nonsense Vox barely remembers answering because the questions were too easy to answer and because he was two seconds away from pulling off his head and unplugging himself until the update was over. Was it always this bad? He doesn’t remember it ever being this bad. By the time they reentered the room, the coffee girl had come back with some more drinks for the crew, alongside some bagels, muffins, and whatnot.

Despite himself, he ended up grabbing a muffin.

It was bland, much too dry, and barely warm anymore. Holy sh*t, he was a muffin snob now.

“Hey, kid. Did you try the muffins-?”

The kid wasn’t in his seat. A few stagehands were cleaning up something on the floor next to the chair, tea or water from the looks of it. It was scalding, hot enough that mist was rising off the floor and his employees were tossing as many towels as they could over the spill before even attempting to pick them back up.

A quick look through his cameras told him the kid wasn’t far. In fact, he was right in the dressing room. He was wearing a stage crew shirt, one about three sizes too big. His hands currently wrapped in a towel, though Vox could see where he was still wet around the sides of his forearms. Vixie was also in the room, currently addressing her makeup with the help of some assistants. There seemed to be some kind of unspoken rule about ignoring the kid sitting there, until out of eyeshot. Then, they snickered, as if he couldn’t still hear them. Vixie herself was more blatant about her attitude.

“Feeling better? I really didn’t mean for it to spill. It wasn’t too hot right, little one?”

‘Little one’ was said so condescendingly, as if she was hissing like a snake. It wasn’t the kind of thing you’d think to hear come out of an adult’s mouth, especially when talking to a kid.

The kid, for his part, had so very few cares left. After all the threatening Vox did, the creepy antics of Val, and the constant belittling from Vel, it seemed like he lost what little ability he had left to give a sh*t about any of this, much to Vox’s own amusem*nt. Not that he was scared before or anything, but at least he seemed to care. Apparently, Vixie no longer qualified for that bare minimum. Oh, he broke him. Didn’t mean to. But it was a pretty funny result.

“You’re new, aren’t you?” He asked with a sigh.

Vixie’s ears flicked a bit in surprise. Weren’t expecting that, were you?

“Excuse me?” She was already on the defensive. Big ego, small brain, never a good combination.

“You know he sees, like, everything, right?” As if to prove a point, the kid pointed at the camera that Vox was currently watching from. Again, possible ESP, but more likely snarky coincidence.

“I’m sure he does.” She winked. “Maybe I’ll give him a show later.”

“…adults are so gross.”

Vox’s employees looked concerned when he laughed for seemingly no reason.

“That’s funny coming from you, little one.” She sneered. “What, is he only into little boys right now?”

He’s not sure who was more disgusted by that little gem, him or the kid. Truely, physically repulsed. Vox hadn’t even eaten anything much more than a bite of dull muffin, but he suddenly had the urge to carve his stomach open and empty out the contents. The kid had an automatic gag reflex.

“Ewww! No! What’s wrong with you?” Little arms came to cross around each other, seeking comfort or trying to look somewhat like he was serious. “What I meant was I don’t get what you’re trying to do here.”

She eyed him.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“You poured hot water on me.”

“My tea spilled.” She argued. “It was an accident, but at least I have a moment now.”

“Tea with no tea bag.” The kid complained. “Also, why didn’t you just ask before?”

“Because I wanted to talk to you alone.”

The kid pointed at the camera again, disbelief and just utter confusion painted across his face.

“We aren’t alone? Did you not just hear what I said?”

When his hand came to rest on the chair again, he started typing away.

Loxley to Bogie. This train is off the track. I repeat, this train is off her track.

Slowly, because now he was actually interested in the outcome, he approached the makeup room. The employees who snuck out and saw him very quickly decided that they wanted no part of what was going to happen next. They certainly weren’t snickering anymore either.

“What gets him going?” She asked.

“…what gets who going?”

“Vox! What gets him going?”

“Coffee, mostly. Why?”

Vox was trying very hard not to give himself away. The game was just far too fun. It was about time the kid turned his antics to someone other than himself. When it wasn’t him just getting frustrated and charmed by it, it was actually pretty entertaining. Hm. Note from Vox to Vox, steal those lines for his sitcom later.

“I mean what does he like!” She snapped.

That seemed to make the kid pause and think for a moment. Dread dripped down the back of Vox’s spine. He hasn’t exactly been…subtle with Val. Why would he? The kid has had to have seen worse living on the streets in hell. Besides, it was his f*cking house and if he wanted to be blatantly horny in his house, he had that right. Sure, it could get…sometimes a bit much. He’d be lying if he said that Vel hasn’t interrupted them sometimes to tell them to calm the f*ck down. Not lately, but it has happened.

There was also the other stuff that the kid’s been privy to, things not spoken out loud. Like the broken screen. It might make Vox think things that he didn’t want to nearly approach.

And there was this stupid little voice in the back of his head, just where the migraine was, asking him if that’s really the side of him that he wants the kid to know. Screw you, he argued back. It’s part of who he is, kid or not. He’s not his dad or something. He doesn’t care if he sees him like that.

“Movies.” The kid answered, much to the surprise of both Vixie and Vox. “Especially the really good ones. Gameshows too. He’s super techy, like his room looks like something out of Star Trek. And he’s one of those people who has to keep busy, you know? Wish he’d get more sleep though. I think he needs it.”

He…didn’t know what to think about that. Most peoples’ first impression of him are whatever he tells them it is. Whatever suggestion happened to come across them first from his screens, or Vel’s posts, or whatever. It was all the same. He was smart, charismatic, and powerful. His employees often only knew that side of him before they signed the dotted line. By then, he didn’t care what else they saw: the sharp temper, the uncaring gaze, the true meaning of that power. Vel and Val knew him better than that, though they still saw that side of him. Whenever they talked about it though, or about him, it was more typical of them to focus on all the worst stuff, in private.

They all did that. Vox was just as guilty. Val acted stupid, most of the time. He wasn’t necessary stupid, but acted like it. He was a slu*tty mess whose temper rivaled Vox’s but without any restraints. Vel was bitchy on a good day. Her mouth runs her head, and she has no patience for filters outside of Voxtagram. Most of the time she acts like a spoiled brat.

And Vox? Well, he was their idiot co-worker who wouldn’t be worth a damn without them. He’s heard it all. Impossible for him not to know, really, even if they didn’t say it to his face.

The only people who talk about Vox like the kid was right now where the people who knew him only from his farthest personality, his most common mask. Except…no one else knew about the movies, or the gameshow, or even his f*cked up sleep schedule. Why focus on that? He knows he’s…the kid’s friend, but to ignore all the red flags was just…what is he supposed to do with this?

Vixie gave up a vicious little chuckle.

“What? Are you telling me that Overlord Vox is just a big softy underneath it all, hm?”

“I didn’t say that.” He answered back. “Far from but…nobody’s all bad. He’s…he’s been pretty good to me.”

Oh, kid.

There was a stinging behind his eyes was definitely the headache. Obviously.

“Why?” She asked. Her tone implied that she didn’t believe him. She’d be right to.

“I don’t know. I’m nobody special.”

Why did he say it so manner-of-factly? A volt of electricity passed from one antenna to the other, an angry little spark that came from the blue. Vox was literally willing to put a price tag on his soul, something in the extreme figures, and he thinks he’s not worth anything? Not special enough? Hell, just by Vel’s post’s numbers, he was plenty special.

“Clearly.”

The last bit of restraint in his body kept him from ripping down the door.

“Why are you so interested anyways? If you’re trying to, um,..” A blush painted across the bridge of his nose and around those glittering freckles of his. “‘get together’ with him, I think you should rethink that. He seems a little too busy for long term stuff, and he’s got this…thing with Val-”

“You’re thinking too small. This,” She gestured down at her figure. “is just a way to get into the circle, you hear me? Once I’m there, I can join in as the fourth Vee! They’ve been needing someone in the music department anyways.”

That was, honestly, what he expected. It was a common delusion. Hell, the snake he sent to the hotel had the same idea, once upon a time. Not the same methodology, but generally the same concept. Hit it big, hit it off with the ‘in’ crowd, join Hell’s elite as a new member of the Vees. The goal was always the same. It came with the territory of being a well-liked team. Nobody asked to be Carmilla Carmine’s best buddy.

As Vixie kept rambling on, fantasy after fantasy that she simply didn’t realize would never f*cking happen, the kid looked up at the camera again, and tapped some more.

Loxley to Bogie. The train has derailed. Diving straight off a cliff. Send for extraction, please?

Well, that was fun while it lasted.

Vox knocked on the door. What? He had to look polite at least.

“Miss Vixie? There’s something that’s been brought to my attention-”

She was quick to open the door, though it was clear she was still shuffling around her hair to be a bit more put together.

“Hey! Wasn’t expecting you. Come in, please!” Quickly, she remembered she still had the kid in her room. “Oh, yeah. Little one over here had an accident with the tea. Bumped right into my cup! I just brought him in here to help clean him up.”

“Really now?” Vox teased. “Kid, you ought to be more careful.”

Apparently, the kid was also starting to run out of f*cks to give for Vox too. A silent ‘seriously?’ flew into the air as he threw his hands apart. He knows Vox knows what really happened. That’s all part of the fun.

“Did my assistants fix you up a new drink?” He asked, tone soothing and smooth as butter. The kid might be turning green in the background.

Vixie’s eyes fluttered, a cheer of victory hidden in her irises. Vox could see the marching band now, parading between her ears and passing by her brain. He could almost hear it over the buzzing sound splitting between his audio receivers.

“It’s alright.” She took the moment to really lean into the role, literally. Any closer and she’d be pressed against him. “I don’t mind. It was an accident after all.”

“Hm.” Vox tapped a finger to his mouth. Vixie focused on its movement the entire time. “I’m sure there’s something that can be done to make up for this…little mishap.”

There was implication there, but he was going to let her take the first leap. After all, victory was all the sweeter when your opponent screwed themselves over.

“Well,” She rolled the hair by her neckline with the tip of her index, tugging it in front by her face. “I may have something in mind but…do we have enough time?”

His internal clock told him they had, roughly, an hour.

“About an hour.”

“A lot can get done in an hour.”

“Agreed.”

“I’m gonna puke.”

You know, if Val ever ignores him again, he’s just going to bring the kid down to the studio right before filming. Would ruin the whole mood right then and there, and Vox would love it.

“Kid, do me a favor and go eat one of those muffins.” Vox gently ushered the kid out the door.

“Why?” The kid asked, so pained. That groan had nothing to do with muffins.

“Because I need a moment with Miss Vixie here, and I think they could use some…critical feedback on their recipe.”

He groaned, like he was in actual agony from all of this, but he walked out. The door shut snug behind him. Vox knew they wouldn’t be interrupted. Firstly, because they all knew better. Secondly, because the room was soundproof. And thirdly, because he had a feeling this really wouldn’t take too long.

“So, where were we?”

Chapter 14

Chapter Text

“I see you corrected the muffin problem.”

Vox munched down. The chocolate one was the best, melted deliciousness blending in perfectly to the pastry. Just the kind of recharge he needed after all that nonsense. There was a plate left out with a dozen muffins, and almost all of them were gone by the time Vox emerged from the makeup room. The kid saved him one special, and that was the one he was currently scarfing down.

“Not really. The coffee girl told me to take it up with the bakery if I didn’t like their recipe.”

Vox’s lips pressed into a frown.

“And what’d you tell her?”

“I told her you didn’t like their recipe, not me.”

“Ha! You’re learning.”

“It’s the truth? I thought the muffin was fine. Not great, but fine.”

Well, he’d suppose a street kid wouldn’t be picky about food, would he?

“You disinfected everything, right?” The kid’s face jumped up and down his suit, and Vox nearly choked on his snack.

“Damn, kid! You think she’s that dirty?” He laughed. One of his servos clicked and popped from the effort. It’s been getting worse, not better. That was unusual. Most of the time, as the day went on and there were less devices that needed to be fixed up, the headache would subside into a dull pain. Not this one. It was sharper, if anything.

“She smells weird.” He answered with a shrug.

Funny enough, the kid was right. Of course, Vox knew why she smelled like that. He probably smelled like it too, albeit a little different. From what he’s heard, foxes have heightened smell and plenty of specialized glands for those smells. It can tell a lot about the animal’s health and current mood. Just another reason he was glad to be part machine rather than being turned into a furry. He didn’t want anyone knowing that information from a whiff.

Anyway, he doubted the kid couldn’t smell her on him. Despite changing out his clothes and giving himself a quick washcloth pat, there was something there that was lingering a bit longer. He’d probably need a soapy shower to get it off.

“Don’t worry. You won’t have to deal with it anymore. She’ll be gone after the interview is over.”

“Huh? But, I thought-?”

“You think I’d let her use me like that? Kid, I’m the one that uses people. She wanted to play a game she doesn’t know the rules to, and she just gave up her best card. Granted it wasn’t that good to begin with, but still.” An end of the segment sound played off his audio, a congratulatory tune for the losers who were almost winners in any one of his many programs. “Thank you all for playing and we’ll see you next time!”

There was stunned silence, the kid’s head on a bobble between Vox, the makeup room, then around at the cameras. The dots were starting to connect, and the kid was finally understanding just how badly she just messed up.

“…you’re an awful person.” He almost sounded surprised by it.

“You’re catching on!” He joked. He reached over and grabbed his wrist, turning it around to give it a better look. He will admit, it was admirable how the kid responded to the pain with only the slightest twitch of resistance. “How bad is it?”

“What do you mean?” He asked. Their eyes met, and the kid gave up. “It hurts a little.”

A quick thumb through the thick black fur on his upper arm revealed white skin scalded red. He knew better than to rub it, thankfully, but it was clear it was a bit more than a little pain. Demons heal quickly, that was one of the advantages of being dead, but he could tell it would still take several days to fully clean up. What would’ve been a second degree burn with scars would now be painful days of peeling, blisters, and eventual relief.

“It was an accident.” The kid lied.

“You know it wasn’t.”

“…don’t…don’t hurt her because of me. Please?”

Why the f*ck was this kid down here? Does heaven have a complaints department? Because Vox has more than a few colorful words for them.

“I hurt whoever I want, whenever I want. That’s the privilege of being on top. I don’t have to have a reason.”

That said, he didn’t mind having one either.

“Mr. Vox, sir. We’re on in five.”

Vox waved the stagehand off.

“Go grab a cool towel and put it on it. Wrap it up with some bandage tape after ten minutes or so.”

It was as good an excuse as any to get the kid out of there for a little, while Vox lays his claws in deep. He’d be back before the worst was over, obviously, but he’d at least save him some of the view.

“If you want to help keep the actual body count down, remind everyone around here that I see them snickering. And that I don’t take kindly to anyone messing with my business assets.”

“I’m a business asset now?” He asked.

He always was. That’s the reason he’s here to start with but…well, he’s something more now. What exactly, he couldn’t name. Not out loud anyways.

“Naturally. Now, get going.”

The kid sent on his quest, Vox made his way back to his chair, his set, and his problems. The incoming signals were still bad, really bad. It wasn’t a bug. He’s already run it through several diagnostics, but it all just fed back the same information. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a strong signal. He’s not sure how that could be.

He considered if it was maybe the work of those limiters the kid removed. Maybe they’d been doing some filtering for him. Except that, upon interrogation about the limiters, the tech that put them in there hadn’t even mentioned it. To avoid being ripped apart by sharks, you damn well would bet that he would’ve mentioned if it saved Vox any problems on update days. Anything to be saved from that fate. So, that wasn’t it. Or probably wasn’t.

It wasn’t any outside signaling either. Alastor’s radiowaves couldn’t reach his tech like this. He was too outdated, far too much for any of his signals to register as normal and would be excluded automatically. So, that was ruled out as well.

What did that leave? An internal hiccup of some kind. Maybe a stupid employee who got it into his head that he could program better than Vox could. He didn’t find any company computers doing anything suspicious, nor did any surveillance reveal anyone disgruntled or moronic enough to be attempting it.

This was turning out like a game of clue, except without the murder.

“I get it now. Valentino can own all the whor*s in Hell, but compared to that? Don’t take this the wrong way, but why don’t you do videos?”

Vixie finally emerged. She looked better than when he left her, though more disheveled than when she’d arrived. It matches her, honestly. Now she looked far more like her rave girl shows than the Vee wannabe she was dressed up as.

“I do. All the time in fact.” He wagged a finger. “Hard to avoid it really, with all the surveillance. I just keep the tapes for my own pleasure.”

She sat down, a little wobbly and probably more than sore. Despite the revealing nature of the outfit, he chose his marking spots well. You couldn’t see anything obvious.

“I’d love to get a copy.” She purred with delight, like the very idea almost had her crawling across the desk. Unfortunately for her, this desk was work use only, despite Val’s very best efforts. It was too pretty to beat up like they did with the other furniture.

“I’m sure you would.” He smiled back.

“Mr. Vox, thirty seconds!”

He pulled a stack of papers from his desk. It was mostly just bullet points. With the teleprompter out, it was the best he could put together on short notice. Not that he needed either. He was a professional. And professionals knew their scripts front to back.

He sat a little straighter as the main director held his hand up, signaling the end of the intro song and the start of the live show.

Okay, Vox! You’re on!

“Welcome to the show everyone! We’ve got a few surprises for you tonight, and a very special guest joining us this evening for an exclusive! Though I think she hardly needs an introduction, give a warm hello to Vixie Vandal!”

The studio audience played in the background, though a few of his employees were contractually obligated to clap as well. Helps keep an authentic feel to it.

“Pleasure to have you on the show, Vixie.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, Vox.” She chirped, before waving to the camera. “Hey, everyone! How you all doing tonight?”

Again, the recoded audience cheered. A few sound bits here and there to suggest maybe one or more rabid fans were in the seats, but nothing absurd.

“That’s what I like to hear!” She seemed to know her lines well enough. Time to start throwing some fastballs.

“So, Vixie! I think everyone’s heard that new earworm of yours. It’s been a top charter for, about six weeks now? What’s the inspiration behind ‘Dead, but Still Beating’?”

“Well, as you know, I’m kinda new to Hell.” She gestured around. “To be honest, it’s still rather shocking. I mean, Hell exists? Like, what? You mean to tell me that f*cking Sunday School was actually trying to prepare me for something?”

A laugh track played. Vox offered a fake chuckle of his own, a practiced, controlled thing.

“Didn’t seem to help too much.” Vox cracked a joke of his own, and a louder laugh track played. Vixie herself seemed to be laughing more genuinely.

“Don’t get me started. Had my first drug deals in the school parking lot.” She snickered. “Anyways, to answer your question, it was really inspired by my first couple of months down here. Like, I’m dead, yeah, but still kicking it. I’m still doing what I love, rocking out and enjoying time with my fans.”

To the ‘awwws’ of the next bit, Vox could only internally groan. It was such a boring answer. To be honest, most of the interview was boring, standard. The early questions anyways, then, he finally led on into the interesting stuff.

“So, Vixie. I’m sure you know by now, but I run this little thing call Voxtagram-”

Another laugh track, though some of the employees seemed to know where he was leading, and a few scoffs joined in.

“I hear from some sources that you have ongoing spat with another famous popstar. Miss Mayday, right?”

Vixie rolled her eyes, waving her hand like she was flicking away a mosquito.

“The drunk? Yeah, there’s no spat there only…pity. I mean, she’s so obsessed with her loser ex that she crossed his tattoo out on her shoulder. Bitch, get it removed, or turned into something else like everybody else. Stop being dramatic.”

The ‘ooos’ were mostly legitimate from the film crew, and Vox could practically feel the electricity in the air.

“Some say she’s turning her pain into art.” Vox offered, knowing this was only going to rile things up again. Defender or instigator, the feud would be all over the internet in a few moments. He was taking a big old stick and whacking the wasp nest until the swarm started. Vixie just gave him a look.

“She went to rehab. In Hell. How far in the f*cking gutter do you have to be to do that?” She shrugged. “She’s old news, soon to be older I hear. I only just heard that hellborns age. They just get the short end of the stick no matter what, I guess.”

Vox’s gaze drifted from the camera for but a moment. Most everything back there was casted in darkness, but he could make out the striking, shimmering green of the kid’s eyes. Though…there was a hardened part to it he’s not seen before. It wasn’t quite anger. It was something more personal. His body was involuntarily stiff, like he was pulling himself by the reins to keep himself standing there. Some small parts of him didn’t obey though, and he was trembling.

Did she insult his mother or something? What did she say to earn that?

Either way, Vox knew how to make it all better.

“But you know, hellborns do get other privileges.” Vox pointed out. “They get to visit the other rings, for example! Personally, I’m a bit glad we don’t, otherwise I’d never get Valentino out of Lust. Myself, I could go for a snooze down in Sloth.” More laughter, and Vox was far from done. “I hear Verosika is going on a ring wide tour! Ending in our beloved sinkhole, Pentagram City!”

Cheers, and he made sure to add a bit more volume this time.

“And just in time too! She’ll be back in time for her appearance at the Grand Exhibition!”

The roar drowned out his voice, only half of which was fake.

“The what?”

“Oh!” Vox feigned surprise well. “I forgot! You’re new, so you might not know this, but once a year the upper echelon of Pride holds one hell of a swinging party. Think red carpet, but on a whole new scale. It’s very exclusive. I have my crew hold a livestream every year of the attendants arriving. Right, guys?”

Said crew took pride in their work. That’s more than can be said of most of his film staff. Being assigned to that job was reward in of itself, and everyone knew it. Those currently under Vox’s employ for coverage and camera work all dream of getting into his good graces enough to cover it. It was the most watched event in Hell after all. It was coming up. Not immediately, but soon enough that all the invitations had been sent out already. Originally started by an overlord of some status that had dealings with the goetic demons, it was modeled after one formerly hosted by King Beleth and now overseen by his daughter. That party was beyond exclusive. Vox would die again to get an invitation, or even a f*cking camera in there just to see what the hell goes on. Anyways, a little miffed by being told he wasn’t allowed in, the overlord started the Grand Exhibition. The host changes yearly. Zestial was hosting this one, which meant the dress code was extreme formality and Vel was going to have a field day dressing him and Val.

Point being, Verosika was invited. Vixie was, obviously, not.

“I already got my invitation!” From his sleeve, he pulled out the envelope. He could already sense all the eyes baying at it like hounds, desperate to see the pretty words written out inside. “As did the others. What about you Miss Vandal?”

Spotlights on you now, babe! Don’t freeze up now.

She did just that. Under all those teasing looks, her ego concaved in on itself.

“I…I didn’t know.”

“Oh dear! Sorry to hear that. Not to worry, there’s always next year, you know? Maybe if your new album is a big enough hit, we’ll see you there. How about it guys?”

Artificial cheer filled the room again, and Vox dragged the interview around again, catching her on more little insecurities here and there: the boyfriend who murdered her, the weird situation of apparently being famous in life but no one having heard of her before, and the strange problem she seems to have keeping a man at her side. He just pulled her life out and started snipping it to pieces for the entertainment of it all. And god, it was entertaining.

Destroying people who have some opinion of themselves was a drug in of itself. Almost nothing felt as satisfying as showing them just how little they mattered, how they’d found themselves in a world of his making, where narrative and time are his slaves to do with as he pleased. Welcome to Wonderland! It’s all a bit mad here.

She didn’t take it well. He thoroughly enjoyed making her suffer through it all.

The kid’s face was unreadable, maybe a bit strained. His ears were flicked down, and he was rubbing the rim of them.

“Thank you all for joining me and Vixie! We’ll see you all tomorrow on ‘Vox2Nite’! Have fun out there everybody!”

The segment closed. The recording red light flashed off. Almost immediately, Vixie jumped up.

“Vox! What the hell was that?”

“What was what?”

“You know what! You embarrassed me in front of the entire pentagram!”

He quirked a brow.

“I did? Really? That’s what you’re going with now?” He stood up, stretching out his legs. He forgot how cramped he felt in that seat. “I think you’ll find you embarrassed yourself.”

“I didn’t-”

“Oh, but you did.” His smile spread to edges of his screen, eyes narrowing as he saw her breathing hitch. Don’t you just love it when they finally realize they’ve been cornered? “A word of advice, if you start swimming with sharks, don’t be surprised when they finally tear you to pieces.”

Embarrassment burned her white fur pink.

“I thought we had something special.” She tried to whine, but it was too angry to be desperate.

“‘Special’? Wow, you really think too much of yourself, huh?” Worse than aggression, Vox jumped straight to indifference.

He toyed with the muscles of his neck, shuffling through his phone while he was at it. Velvette may have had a point about need a new masseur. Either way, his timeframe for dealing with her was over. She meant literally nothing to him. That’s all she was in the grand scheme of things, nothing.

“The exit is that way.” He gestured without looking away from his device. She could’ve been any one of his one night stands over the years, except she seemed to lack the decorum that most of them left with.

“Didn’t you enjoy it?”

Really, what was she hoping to gain from arguing the point?

“If I wanted to enjoy myself, I’d go downstairs to get with Val. Now if you excuse me, I have a schedule to keep.” He went to walk off behind set, the kid running over and trailing in his footsteps.

He honestly didn’t do anything, despite having not let go of whatever it was that made him so upset earlier. The kid was a class act at separating emotions from actions. Again, probably from necessity, but he hadn’t even looked at Vixie. Yet, him walking by seemed to be all the insult she could take.

Her hand snapped about, ready to nail the kid in the face when Vox’s own instincts cut in. His hand caught hers, claws digging down into her wrist. That delicate frame of hers was no match for machinery, and he enjoyed just how easily it caved to his whims. She didn’t have enough strength in her whole body to pull away, and her eyes grew wide with fear and realization.

“I-”

“Don’t.” He snarled. Honestly, he had half a mind to just rip her damn arm off right then and there. It’d be so easy. No one would blame him for it either. Even if they did believe a word she said, few would think to sympathize. This was hell. This is what happens when you f*ck around and find out down here. If you touch something you’re not supposed to, it’s likely you won’t have hands at the end of the day. That was a lesson Al had taught him during his first week.

Another good lesson, don’t forgive these stupid little transgressions, otherwise they’ll think they can do it again and it inspires others to try. That just wasn’t good for business, was it?

Just before he began to pierce through her, the kid tugged on his jacket.

Vox settled himself back down. It took longer than expected to rein himself in, which he blames on the update issue. Again, his mood tends to get explosive on these days.

“You better get going now.” He may not have Val’s poison, but his sneer could be just as lethal. “And before you get any stupid ideas about ‘getting even’, a reminder that I have eyes everywhere.”

A screen lowered itself and started playing some juicy footage for her: her getting off her record label’s owner under his desk, a spicy bit with her and the band members from a collab piece, and, of course, their little tryst from earlier.

“I guess no one warned you what getting in too deep looks like, hm? I expect your full cooperation anytime I call on you from here on out.”

A lame excuse stuck on her lips, stuttering with shock.

“I-I can’t! M-My…my boss-!”

“Oh, don’t worry about it! I own him too.” He gestured once again to the door. “Now, as I said, get lost.”

She gaped like a fish on a line for a good moment. Then, emotion overtook her, even if it couldn’t possibly save her from his net. She pulled off the headphones and tossed them across the room. Tears streamed down her face. She made a pitchy howling sound on her way out the door. In her tantrum, she nearly broke the heels off her shoes. The few assistants that came with her scuttled after her like roaches following their meal.

Everyone else watched, then went back to business as usual. Just any regular old day here at Voxtek studios.

“I’m okay, Vox.”

“Hm?”

He looked down. Unconsciously, his hand ghosted where the kid almost got hit. He blanked his screen out for a second before it turned some absurd rosy color, tinted by mortification. Once he made sure that the color correction was on, he turned the display back on.

“Not a word.” He warned.

“I figured.”

Chapter 15

Chapter Text

It was maybe an hour or so later that Vox could tell something was very, very wrong. Worse, something was wrong with him.

He was sitting there in the studio staring now at his hands for the last thirty minutes because they haven’t stopped shaking in all that time. Not little tremors either, but shakes that suddenly turn to whole convulsions. He couldn’t hold his f*cking pen like this. The paper beneath him was a scratched-up mess meant to be notes. He couldn’t even read it. None of it seemed like words.

Or maybe that was his eyes, because something was wrong with them too. It wasn’t quite double vision, although he’s not sure what else to call it. Nothing like this has ever happened before. If he looked at something, he saw it and maybe three or fourth other images compounded on it. For example, the kid was sitting across from him again. If he tried looking at him, he might see parts of him, parts several other guest stars who also sat in that seat, and then just…other people from far off memories just sitting there.

So when he looked down at what he was trying to write, sometimes he saw the scribbles that came from his shaking hands, sometimes he saw the notes he wrote from other shows from days, months, years ago, and sometimes he was looking at letters he was writing home during the war.

Was this a panic attack? He didn’t think he was panicking. There’s wasn’t any trigger, and he’s pretty sure that in all his time in Hell, he would’ve found out if something triggered him. PTSD? Possibly. He probably had it. Never diagnosed. Never went to therapy. But why would it just randomly start up now? It could be a random outbreak of hysteria. That happened in Hell, occasionally. It’s never happened like this though. Also, if Vox was affected, then smaller fry, like his employees, would be on the tables dancing till they keeled over dead. Nobody else seemed to be reacting.

Logically, it probably had to be something wrong with his head. In a moment of terror, he looked at the kid. Did he do this? When he ripped his head open? Did he plug the right bits to the wrong parts on purpose, knowing there’d be some kind of delayed meltdown? Did he set him up to crash and burn?

No. No, he watched him. He didn’t know the whole process, but he knew enough to know that the kid’s hands were practiced in this. What he did was something he did many, many times before, which assumedly wasn’t sabotage. He was confident.

And…he’s never given him a reason to doubt him. If he’d wanted to hurt him, he could’ve done it much sooner, and much easier. Like when he was tired, or drunk, or helplessly disembodied from himself.

As mentioned, if Vox went down, the systems would go absolutely nuts. And he was about thirty seconds away from just that.

His leg involuntarily kicked the desk hard. So much for keeping it nice. The wood frame made a violent crack noise, and a large rip tore through the center. That’s what happened when unrestrained mechanisms find something organic and pliable to knock against.

It shocked the kid out of his own stupor, something Vox didn’t even realize he was stuck in. He had his ears pulled tight against his face, and he was pinching them hard enough to stop blood flow. How did he miss that? How long has he been like that?

“Vox?” The kid asked, his volume much louder than expected, almost half yelling. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” His voice broke, distorting to the point of unfamiliarity. It didn’t sound like him anymore. It hardly sounded like a voice anymore.

It hit like a freight train. A loud, sudden screaming sound. Then, nothing. It was so much, too much for his servers to handle. His body shut down. It was sudden pain, like necrosis hitting all at once. Nerve endings failing to signal, his spine shutting down in successive columns, bits and pieces of organs failing to function right. It was like his body sent out a sudden dying, decaying cry. Then, stillness.

It was a weird sensation. Even if his body broke in half, it wouldn’t kill him. He was so much more than the sum of wires and veins. His being was lightning itself, or very close to it. So, the shut down didn’t do anything, physically, to himself. But he wasn’t plugged into anything, not like when he was in his chair. He hadn’t time to jump into the cyber realm. He was…stuck, for lack of a better term. A prisoner in his own body. Like everyone else, he’d suppose. Though, most people probably aren’t conscious when their body crashes.

Is this what it’s like to be in one of those hospital specials? You know, the coma people? Awake, aware, but just stuck in some weird empty limbo?

He couldn’t feel anything. Any small reach out was met with extreme resistance, and, eventually, pain beyond pain. What the hell was going on out there? He’s never felt so blind, not since he died.

What the hell was that? Was that the sound? The one the kid had been hearing, that his tech guys unsuccessfully attempted to narrow down? It had been a sound, that he was sure of. But why would a sound not just shut off his audio? He could function just fine without it. Hell, he’s turned it off whenever Val or Vel go off like a Roman candle. Yeah, this was louder, but it should’ve have had the same effect.

It had to have been more than just a sound then, but what?

Wait a minute. He’d been hearing interference all f*cking day long. He just assumed it was the update. What if it wasn’t? What if those were just minor firings of the same system, on a smaller scale throughout the day. That would explain why it messed with his internals. It had already been doing so earlier. If it was hijacking the sound system by creeping its way into his mainframe, then that would explain why it came across as an actual, physical sound others heard only later. The disease has spread so far that it could manipulate things through him, could control his empire using his body like a puppet.

But what could have caused that? Vox was the master hacker. It was literally in his veins to run through systems, and he’s never come across anything like that.

Was this some new demon? Some hapless soul that just found their way down here with even newer tech that Vox hasn’t even heard of? Possibly, but it wouldn’t make sense for them to be that powerful yet. Especially if Vox hadn’t heard of them. Someone growing that strong would make ripples, ripples that he’d see coming. This came from nowhere.

Sure, technically, some demons are just made of something stronger, even when they first get down here. But that hasn’t happened since…since…

Alastor.

He took his drone. How had he forgotten about that? Because he’d ripped the data from it, it shouldn’t be usable anymore, much less have a recognizable code that could be used to jump back in the system. It must be some kind of f*cked up magic bullsh*t. Could you reanimate a drone, or whatever the f*ck it is that Alastor does?

So, what? He started it back up, somehow. Uses its old source code to, again, somehow, trail back the mainframe. Then decided to start messing with him by playing sounds?

No…that’s not it. Not sounds. Soundwaves. Radiowaves.

That f*cking bastard!

He raged to no one and nothing. Nothing could hear him, reach him here. Was this Alastor’s sick idea of a joke? Make him hear noises all day then throw him into a black hole? sad*stic f*ck.

Great! Just great! He was stuck here and god only knows what’s going on out there! He could be jumping on Vox’s unconscious body right now for all he knew. He could roaming the halls wrecking everything Vox had built up for the hell of it. He could be knocking down Velvette’s door with an axe just to be a psycho. He could be bending Valentino over backwards just to have taste of what Vox had…you know what? Scratch that one. Not Al’s style.

He has the kid. No doubt about that.

But what would he do with him? The kid himself admitted he tried eat him last week. Alastor wasn’t kind to guys like he was with girls. He’s always treated anyone close to Vox with even less respect. Vee tower wasn’t his cutesy hotel. There wasn’t a Morningstar around to keep the peace. If he wanted to hurt him, he could. And he might. If it caused Vox pain, he might decide it’s funny.

And he knew, better than anyone, what kind of damage Alastor could really do.

Val and Vel could fight back, would fight back. They had each other in a pinch.

But the kid…

Holy sh*t, get up!

He tried to force himself to feel something, anything at all! But all the circuits were dead ends, too full of some other feedback to even react to him, no matter how many volts he put through it all.

Work, damn it! You need to get up!

He forced a dead system to jump. He reached into his goddamn soul and squeezed it until something happened. He was almost pure energy like this. It built up like an overcharged battery. Eventually it would break. It would have to break. Nothing in this world or the one before could truly bottle lightning.

You know how many volts can be in a single bolt of lightning? A billion. Do you know what happens when a billion volts of angry energy gets released all at once? Nothing good, that’s for sure.

Right in the middle of his discharge, when he poured every ounce of power into that single goal of forcing his body back up, the resistance stopped all at once. Just poof, like a magic trick. Do you know resistance does? Generally, it stops things from cooking to a goddamn crisp whenever too much electricity flows through it. So, a billion volts meets no resistance? That means that anything caught on the wrong side of that equation was going to get a billion volts straight to the brain.

He thought it would be Alastor. God, he wishes it was Alastor.

Instead, his vision came back for less than a moment of a breath, and it was the kid staring straight at him, face to face and hands set at the side of his display.

And then a billion volts hit him all at once.

No one tells you how quick it is, about a third the speed of light. Neither one of them had enough time to even understand what was going on before a flash blinded the two of them.

It took a second for the rest of his sensors to come online. Touch and sight came back first, followed quickly by the taste of ozone stuck on his tongue. In fact, the only thing that didn’t seem to turn on was, ironically, sound. It took him longer than he wanted to admit to understand why that was.

Headphones. There were headphones strapped to the sides of his head. Probably the ones that the popstar had thrown in her fit. They were his headphones, as in, the ones that filter out radiowaves. The kid figured it out before he had and came up with an emergency plan.

What stupid f*cking stroke of genius.

“Kid?”

He had to click the side of the device, keeping the filtering on but allowing him to hear everything else. It was about then he saw him, lying in a pile right in front of his desk. Adrenaline had him skewer the desk on his claws and send it flying across the soundstage.

“Kid?” He called again.

No response. Just a limp body sitting there.

“f*ck!” He yelled. Around the studio, his employees stood about shellshocked. Given their expressions, some sh*t happened while he was out of it. Didn’t matter. He didn’t care right now.

“Doctor!” He screamed at his assistant. “Get a f*cking doctor in here right now!”

“Y-y-yes, Mr. Vox!” He tripped on his own two feet three times before he made it out the door.

“Kid? Come on, kid. Stay with me, okay? You’re gonna be fine. You hear me? It’s going to be okay.”

Oh, Alastor. You have no idea what you’ve just set yourself up for! He’d burn that f*cking place to ground! He was going to hunt his ass down and put his f*cking antlers on his goddamn wall! He was-! He was-!

There was a blinking sound. Small little annoying ticks. It sounded like a car with its lights on.

“Ow.”

Oh, thank f*ck. Relief dripped down his body like a drug shot straight into his heart.

Gently, Vox turned the kid so he could see his face. Turns out, those silly freckles of his didn’t just look like taillights. Apparently, they have hazard blinking. His eyes pulled open, though he seemed tired and sore from the effort.

“Oh, hey.” He muttered. Given how out of breath he sounded, Vox doubted he could form longer sentences at the moment.

“Hey.”

“You better?” He asked.

“You so f*cking stupid, kid.” He laughed, nerves frayed so far that all he could manage was a laugh.

“So…yes?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m…I’m okay.”

“Al-Alastor, he-” A cough interrupted him.

“I know. I know.” He rubbed a hand by his ears and across his scalp, reassuring. “Don’t worry. I got it covered. He’s out of my head.”

He shook his head a little.

“The…the update.”

Oh, Vox already knows what he had in mind. If Alastor was using that drone to hack in, then it would only be usable until the update was complete. It had the old codes, and since he’d erased it from the system, it wouldn’t be able to adjust to the new software. Now that things were coming back online, it was very obvious that the devices most affected by the radio demon’s little trick were the ones that hadn’t been updated yet. As Vox was the main outlet, he wasn’t considered fully updated until every device was fixed. That’s how he managed to get in in the first place. But he was going to make sure he was damn well going to stay out.

The headphones were filtering it out for the time being, stopping any potential waves from reaching him even without the update, but that wasn’t going to be an issue for long.

And you know what? Alastor just gave him way too much ammo to work with and plenty of drive.

“I’ll take care of it. You are just going to rest now, okay? I’m going to send you back up to my room, and I want you to listen to the doctor and pick out a good movie. Fair enough?”

“Okay.” He nodded.

“Good kid.”

They had an in-house doctor, one of those goat type men from Sloth. He’s been told they’re the best and now was as good a time as any to prove it. A gurney came shuffling through, the doctor and two goat-imp hybrid nurses on either side of it. Carefully, Vox picked up the kid and put him down on it.

“Oh.” The doc seemed surprised. “I…I had assumed this was for you, Mr. Vox.”

“He doesn’t leave this building.” Vox said, voice sharp. “Bring him upstairs and treat him in my room, understand? He better be good enough to bounce off the f*cking walls when I get up there.”

That shook him awake, and the doctor wasted no time ordering his staff about, spitting off some quick medical nonsense that Vox knew little of. When he finished with that, he gave Vox a quick nod.

“Not a problem. We’ll have your boy fixed up in no time.”

Yeah, you better…hang on.

“He’s not my-!”

But they were already gone, flying into the lift and off someplace where it was safer to treat him.

Okay, Vox. First problem dealt with. Moving on to the second one next. Game face on now. This is where things get interesting.

“Get this place cleaned up and schedule an emergency broadcast in the next thirty minutes!” He snapped about. “Get to it, people! We’re on the clock here!”

His higherups reacted faster than the others, already jumping straight into damage control. His director dragged the remains of the desk out by himself and went and stole the nearby secretaries’ one. The sound guys attempted to redeem themselves by prying open the speakers and rewiring them right then and there. Apparently when he went out, it fried much more than the kid. Outside his studio, workers were bolting, seemingly determined to get whatever task done that they were required to. Even at the sight of their boss, their were all so stuck in their own work and headspace that they hardly seemed to notice him. As soon as his secretary saw him, she darted his way.

“Mr. Vox! I have the media calling and asking what just happened. What should I tell them?”

“We’ll be holding an emergency broadcast in twenty five minutes, where we’ll be addressing the issues. After we’ll be holding a press conference. Invite only the approved stations, but I want as many cameras in there as possible. Also, I’ll need damage reports on everything in the tower by then, and I want a secondary scope done of the entirety of Voxtek’s catalog, especially as it pertains to personal items and medical equipment: laptops, cellphones, cameras, MRIs, even handheld thermometers. Anything we’ve ever sold. Understand?”

“Yes, sir. On it, sir.”

You wanted this fight, Alastor. But you forgot one crucial detail.

Here, he had the home field advantage. He built all of this! He knew it better than anyone, and certainly better than some old hack so stuck in his ways that his idea of mental treatment was extensive shock therapy. You know what? That might be the only thing he can get behind. And it would his pleasure to give his rival some well-deserved treatment.

Another time, as it was. Right now, the kingdom needed its king.

Vox sat down on his throne. Around, his sharks seemed to get the mood. There was something more purposeful in their circling, something raw.

“Deer meat next time, boys.” He promised.

They clenched their teeth in excitement.

Then, he was off to the races. The second he was plugged in, he flooded the system. He bypassed the terms and conditions, just ripped open anything he needed and let the new codes flow. He started hooking up some new viruses to do the work for him, spreading to other systems by the simple act of logging on. Truly old devices, ones that would never be able to make the switch, he fried on the spot. These mostly weren’t Voxtek devices. As he said, he liked keeping all of that compatible. It all gave him a very good cover story to get rid of some competition though, what little of it there was.

This was a webwide purge, rooting out an infection that’s overstayed its welcome.

What’s the matter, Alastor? Does dark magic not cover this part? It’s going to be awfully hard for anyone to give a sh*t about you when they can’t even hear you anymore.

He was right on the mark with time. Five minutes to spare to get down to the studio and address everyone. It was all clear now though. Tentatively, he pulled the headphones down to his shoulders.

Nothing. Just the sounds of computers, fans, and aquarium equipment. Good.

He used the camera wiring to get down in record time. He’ll give it to his staff. They stepped up. The studio wasn’t perfect, but it was close. As close as anyone could get in thirty minutes after all that.

“They’re ready for you, Mr. Vox.” His assistant offered out the charts from his secretary. See? He knew there was a reason he kept her around. “Here’s all the data you wanted.”

“Good. How’s the kid?”

“Stable. Seems he’s rather resilient, sir.”

“You don’t know the half of it. What about Velvette and Valentino?”

“Both their departments report minimal disruptions, not enough to alter baseline operations. Both your fellow Vees didn’t seem aware there was anything wrong.”

Of course not, they would’ve had their things upgraded first. Vox always had their stuff taken care of before anyone else’s. The only way they might know would be from their own employees, but neither of them tolerates distractions during work hours. They probably wouldn’t notice their phones acting strange.

“Alright then. Give me that spotlight!”

The light guy drew it over, his assistant retreated, and it was showtime.

“We interrupt this program to bring you a special announcement! A certain loser dropped some pretty nasty malware across almost every major device and system! The effects so far have been shown leading to stolen information, transfer of your money in accounts, potentially lethal disruption of critical medical equipment, and, in some cases, complete burnout! 666 news has found reports of unsafe wiring being tapered with bad enough to cause explosions, fires, and electrocutions in mass. For the safety of yourself and your loved ones, please double check your outlets. Apparently, the malware is synonymous with a certain frequency of radiowaves. It sounds like the this.”

He had a mock version play of Alastor’s frequency. Anyone with good enough hearing or a clear enough device would be able to notice it.

“So, if you hear it, it better to be safe than sorry and just get rid of the device before it spreads to the other electronics in your house. For those of you in a workplace setting, it might better to replace the one device than to have to deal with an entire corporate shutdown.”

He only just started his little chat and already the citizens began panicking. People were burning radios, tossing them out apartment windows. Fear drove some to start tearing down radio towers. Not all of the pentagram, obviously. Those still hanging in the old sh*t, like Cannibal Town, wouldn’t change. But for everyone with even the barest minimum of modern? Most of them weren’t willing to risk losing whatever hard-earned money or goods they had, just for some old crap they left hanging around their apartment. In other rings, the panic was just as bad if not worse. They tended to be a little behind Pride in modernization, but most of it was contemporary enough that this was terrifying for them. Even in the dirt roads of Wrath, there were people sacrificing the hundred year old radio for the ten year old TV’s sake. Other rings like Sloth, the medical center of all of Hell, literally couldn’t afford the system to go down. If there was a single radio left there by the end of the day, he’d be shocked.

Oh, but he wasn’t finished yet.

“Voxtek received news of this outbreak as our most recent update was passing through the system. I’m happy to report that all of our devices that had been tuned for the new software were covered by the new virus protection program that came free of charge. Our clients’ information is still kept confidential from these outside sources. And the integrity of our devices has been kept in check. Unfortunately, this doesn’t seem to be the case for a few other carriers, and I would suggest reaching out to them regarding any issues you have.”

What little competition was left for him to deal with was currently being devested by outraged clients, demanding their money back or threatening violence for what just happened. Many others still flooded Voxtek stores, ripping products off shelves, even old models, and starting up whatever plan they could. You could pay for a cheap service, or you could get Voxtek and guarantee that you won’t have to deal with this again. The choice seemed obvious to many.

“Lastly, as for the source. While an investigation led by myself and other experts in the field is ongoing, we believe we have it narrowed down to the northernmost district. Again, it’s in your best interest to stay away from this hot spot until further analysis of the situation.”

Oh, they were either going to break the f*cking walls down in fury. Miss Morningstar was about find out how very few people were willing to give redemption a shot when everyone assumed they were a part of a scam, or possibly resulted in loved ones dying in hospital. There was only one radiotower in the northern district. Guess where that was?

“I’m conducting a press conference shortly to address all your concerns and keep you updated with any and all relevant concerns. Trust us, and together we’ll get through this.”

The camera flicked off. Vox didn’t need to be in the mainframe to know this was going to be the best f*cking day in the market. Those who couldn’t afford their services otherwise were signing long term contracts in droves. His empire just conducted a hostile takeover, and he didn’t even need to lift a finger.

Turns out, Alastor was right all along. Fear does work. You know what works even better? Being that trusted companion when all around was fear. What other choice did they have?

“Great job, everyone!” He announced. “You all pulled together wonderfully, but we’re not out of the woods yet. I’m going to need this place back to picture perfect for tomorrow. Think you can do that?”

For a bit of praise? They’d throw themselves off Vee tower. Rather than answer, they jumped right to proving that they could and would do whatever it takes. That’s what he likes to hear.

The press conference was more of the same, the slight suggestions of fear being replaced by comforts and promises that he doesn’t care about keeping one way or another. Moreover, it was all just a way to make them feel more like he had all the answers, that he was taking care of it, that they had a big bad Overlord watching over them all. If they only knew how literal that was. Either way, a few questions here, a few hypnotic suggestions there, and Vox had most of Hell, even in rings outside of Pride, thinking he was some kind of divine tech god, here to save them from the vile anonymous figure of these raids.

No one said the name ‘radio demon’, but they really didn’t have to. Fear was good motivator, almost as good as hate. Alastor wasn’t looking so popular right now.

Val and Vel helped where they could. This wasn’t their realm of expertise, nor did he expect them to add anything to it. They did post some helpful PR on their platforms though. Val picked up some employees’ crap competitor phone, smashed it to bits, then typed that he saved the studio. People got a big kick out of that. Vel was more on the positive reinforcement side, more or less thanking Vox for keeping them all safe and posting a picture of herself and her most popular models with their newer version phones. She also mentioned that she was thankful that Voxtek operated her favorite sites like Voxtagram. Could you imagine if your apps were on a different platform?

As a side note, he got a memo from Mammon of all people, thanking him for running his bank apps. Apparently, money was also a pretty good motivator, for certain people. Maybe he would end up interviewing a sin after all.

Speaking of that little conversation, he just got up to his room in time to see the doctor leaving.

“He’s not bouncing off the walls, though it’s just as well.” He assured. “Found a movie he really wanted to watch.”

“But he’s fine, right?” Vox knew what too many volts could do. It wasn’t pretty. He’s done something similar on purpose more times than he can count. But never that much, and never on accident.

“He’s all taken care of. No need to worry. Even fixed up that burn on his arm.” The goat man nickered a bit. “He’s a tough kid. Now, should I do a check up on you, sir?”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” He hadn’t so much as bumped his screen, at least not that he could tell.

“You sure? The boy seemed very concerned.”

He laughed.

“Of course he was.”

“Sir?”

“Nothing just…I’m fine.”

“Very well. I left a pager with him in case of an emergency regardless. I can be here in moments.”

“Thanks, doc.”

He walked him out. Despite everything, he was on cloud nine. Alastor’s little plan went up in flames. His hotel’s reputation is in shambles. Vox and his company look like the f*cking saviors of Hell right now. It was PR stunt to rival the best, and free of charge! Does it get better than this?

He took off his jacket as he walked in, tossing it on the chair. The kid was curled up on his couch, much larger and plushier than the lounge couch. The oversized TV had come down from the ceiling. It was currently playing the start to some old movie. He could tell just from how the color specs looked. Older color vision had a unique look to it compared to the newer high-definition stuff.

“Hey, kid. Just talked to the doc. Heard you have two weeks left to live. Isn’t that tragic-”

He froze.

There was a man on the screen in the intro of the movie. He was giving off a patriotic smile as he stood in the recruitment line. A girl, his girl from the context, rushed in from off camera and tried to talk him out of it. He kissed her hands together and told her that there wasn’t a choice in the matter.

“You can’t expect me to stay here while there are people out there who’d see everything I love burn. Including you.” The man soothingly touched the girl’s face. She threw her arms around him, and they kissed.

There was no electronic filter on his voice. No change in the way he pitched his tone from so many years of practice. But of course, he knew that voice.

“Hey!” The kid called over.

“Hey.” He gestured to the movie. “What’s this?”

“Huh? Oh! This is ‘Soldier On’. Did you know they made a movie about my grandpa? Isn’t that cool?” He pointed up at the screen. “I think I’ve seen this actor before. He used to be on TV shows too. My grandpa had, like, hundreds of episode recordings on tape. He was in a few, I think. Wish he was in more stuff, he’s really good.”

Vox looked up at his own face, his own human face. As in, the one he had before he died. He hasn’t seen it in…god, how long has it been? He’s tried not to look back on that stuff but…you know, he almost forgot how he looked. He sounded mostly the same, but he’s a lot more confident now. And, you know, he has a TV filter permanently on.

“…You think he’s good?”

“Yeah, I like his delivery. Doesn’t look like my grandpa though. Want me to make some popcorn while we watch?”

Apparently, the day could get better.

Sitting there, munching on popcorn, while the kid sung him praises about his acting was definitely not something he’d thought they’d end up doing today. The rest of the movie was pretty good too. It won a few awards, that he remembers. It wasn’t groundbreaking for the time, but it’s hard to beat a story based on real life that actually had a happy ending.

“Why’d they make her act so scared all the time?” He asked, pointing at Vox’s co-star. He remembers her. She was cute. Off set she wore this strawberry flavored lipstick that he loved. It was a short affair, about as long as the filming. He had other prospects to chase after all, and she wasn’t going to help him reach his goals, a relative unknown just starting to make her star shine. That and she had a fiancé, who was just rich enough to make her forgive his own affairs. Does infidelity get you to hell? He hopes not. She was really too soft for a place like this, honestly.

“It made for a good story, I guess.” The movie plot had her in London, helping out with the soldiers sent back with injuries in hospital. A charming lieutenant was there to try to make her forget about her other soldier boy and add some drama to the film. Aside from the bombings, of course. “Why? Grandma was tougher than that?”

“She served in the field hospitals mostly. The only time she was in London was in transfer from different combat units.”

Damn, Granny. She’s seen some sh*t. He was in a field hospital one time, and the sight of all that nearly made him sick.

“No charming lieutenant trying to sweep her off her feet?” He teased.

“Nah, her and Grandpa got married right before they shipped out. She always said the boys would tell her how lucky her husband was.”

A mental calculation jumped up.

“Wait, they volunteered.”

“Yup.”

“Right at the beginning.”

“Yup.”

“But she was an army nurse. He was flying airplanes. They got married, went to war, didn’t see each other for six years, and waited that whole damn time?”

The movie had them reunite several times, either with her at his base or with him finding his way into her care. It wasn’t meant to be long, but long enough to reestablish how much the two of them loved each other over everything else. Real life didn’t often have such nice narrative coincidence.

“I mean, yeah. But they used to joke that they considered running away together at sixteen, so a war wasn’t really going to put a nail in their relationship.”

“What if one of them died?”

“Then they said they’d march right into the pearly gates and demand to see who’s in charge. Neither of them really take ‘no’ for an answer.”

He would literally pay money to see that. They weren’t up to the part, towards the end of the movie, when they actually reunite. In a very classic move, they had filmed her waiting at the docks for him. Something tells him it didn’t end up like that in real life.

“How’d they find each other again?”

“The way they promised they would. Grandpa’s best friend’s family owned the local diner. They promised to meet back there once the war was over. Grandpa walked in and Grandma was already sitting down with a milkshake. He asked her if she really waited all this time and then didn’t wait to order with him. She told him that since he was the one flying airplanes, he should’ve been there faster.”

That was so much better of an ending. Why didn’t the director go with that? That’s f*cking iconic.

“They sound like my kind of people.”

“…I don’t know. I’m pretty sure Grandma would call you a flirt, and Grandpa would think you’re a used car salesman or something.”

He wheezed.

“Vee, you really made popcorn and then didn’t tell me?” Vel walked up from behind Vox, arms sliding right between his screen and his shoulder and scooping up a handful of warm, salted, buttery goodness. “What are you watching?”

He decided to save himself the pain of the comments.

“Old crap. You wouldn’t like it so-”

“Oh, he’s beautiful.” Val sauntered in, sliding in next to Vox on the opposite side as the kid. “And f*cking hung like a horse too. You think he ended up in Hell?”

An error screen flashed across Vox’s face for a moment.

“Who?”

“Tall, dark, and handsome on the screen.” Velvette scooted the kid into her arms. “Clothing department knew what they were doing, putting him in those pants. Just a little too tight.”

Was this happening? This couldn’t be happening right now.

“…Him?” Vox waited until the shot closed in on his face, barring any mistake for another character popping up.

“Obviously.” Val purred. “God, you hear his voice? Ooh, the things I would do to hear that voice whispering in my ear.”

Vox slapped both his hands to his screen. It took every molecule in his body not to scream.

“Oh, come on, Vee. You know you’d f*ck him too.”

“Yeah, seriously. Get off your f*cking high horse…though more to the point, any guy with a body like that has to be down here.”

Are they f*cking with him right now? They were, right? Wait, no. They would never make those kinds of comments to his face because he would be absolutely intolerable for weeks. You know what? He was going to have so much fun with this.

“Eh, looks like an asshole to me.”

“Shut the hell up!” Val hissed, lightly punching his shoulder. “What do you even know?”

“You know they stuffed their pants in those movies to make them look bigger than they were.” He teased.

“Nobody has that much big dick energy without something going on.” Velvette pointed out, a little pissed off anger tinting her tone. “Besides, anyone that pretty has at least been around enough to have some skills.”

“What if he’s straight?”

“More for me then.” Vel argued. “But he’s not.”

“What if he’s hom*ophobic?”

“And gay?” Val questioned.

“It’s the 50s! Of course he’d be gay and hom*ophobic!” This is the best thing ever. He was having way too much fun with this. The kid was just sitting there, mad they were interrupting his movie. He had no comments on main lead’s preferences.

Vel and Val tilted their heads, the same collective thought in their minds.

“He plays for both teams.” Vel decided.

“And if he’s got some issues with one side, I can help with that.” Val joked. “We should find him. Any repressed man has issues, and I’m sure he’s down here for one reason or another. And I could use a new bed warmer.”

“I second the motion.” Vel declared as she looked up from her phone. He didn’t even need to look to know she was currently searching up any info she could about the actor on the TV. He was trying, so hard, to keep it together. He put up a fake, exasperated expression while he was silently dying of laughter.

“He’s dead!” Velvette declared triumphantly.

“When’d he die?” Val questioned.

“50s. Think he’s survived the exterminations?”

“If those stupid, f*cking angels killed one of the only men worth f*cking, I’ll punch God in the face.”

That was about all he could take. He rolled onto the floor, a wheezing, sputtering mess. He was coughing up bits of popcorn all over the floor. He just couldn’t help it. His sides hurt from the muscle spasms. It also didn’t help that, immediately, Vel and Val jumped to kicking him in the guts, angry that he was laughing at their wannabe boytoy.

“This is the worst movie night ever.” The kid complained, tossing more popcorn into his mouth.

....

It was hours later that they were finally ready for bed. Vox promised to make it up to the two of them for dissing their TV crush. And no, he never planned on telling them. He’d live with that secret until the day he double died. Despite the interruption, they did end up watching the end of the movie. The kid liked it well enough, inaccuracies or not. If anything, he was more upset that the actor wasn’t in more movies, on account of having died. He said he had so much potential. Vox agreed.

Vel went back to her room. It was her face treatment day, which meant she’d look like she’s the first victim of a zombie apocalypse in a few. Both Val and he vetoed her hanging out on such days. Last time, he had nightmares for a week.

Val was a more hilarious case. He huffed off in fuss after Vox teased him about doing an impression of the guy in the movie. He promised he could say anything he wanted to hear, and it would be picture perfect. Val seemed disgusted by the idea of him mixing and matching some dialogue pieces into a halfway attempt at dirty talk. There were some complaints about AI trashing art. Though, he seemed to like the idea of dressing up as a nurse at a later date. Vox already has several websites up and looking for his size.

The kid had fallen asleep, right there on the couch. Apparently after a week, even a silly argument between them all became white noise. His arms looked better. He parted some fur to make sure. It was red, but not that blistering color anymore. There were no obvious injuries from the bolt either. Truthfully, he’s not sure why he took the electrocution so well. He shouldn’t have. By rights, he should’ve burnt to a crisp. The blood in his body should’ve boiled the rest of him alive before he melted. It’s possible that being part mechanical himself, even just the slightest amount, saved his life. It’s possible he went limp from the surge, but the energy ran it course through wires or whatever his cheeks had in them rather than his heart or his brain.

It's not likely. The kid seemed almost entirely organic, unlike himself. There was nothing solid on him, all of it was soft, delicate, and easy to give. The doctor was right though. He is a tough kid. He wouldn’t have survived this long otherwise. Even if he wasn’t made from the hard stuff, there was something there that didn’t seem willing to bend. And for once, he was glad of it.

He wrapped the blanket around him, turning him into a half-baked burrito, then lifting him up.

“Okay, kid. Time for bed.”

He yawned, making a soft cooing sound.

“Already?”

“Well, I’m going to bed, and you do what I tell you. So, you’re going to bed.”

He plopped him down alongside the nightstand as he slid under the covers. Ah, he loved the feel of his sheets. Nothing better, honestly. He hummed to himself, enjoying the contact of softness on his skin for a moment. Satisfied, he picked the blanket and its contents up and dropped them beside him.

“Go to sleep, Drift.”

Vox closed his eyes, but he could still see from various angles around the room. At the mention of his name, the kid was wide awake. He snuck a little closer, eyeing Vox like he was trying to determine if he really had turned off already. Vox had his face jump to a screensaver to sell it a bit more.

He looked so happy. Like he might actually cry from being called his name. What a horrible thing to be happy about. Memo to Vox from Vox, maybe start saying it more in private.

The kid nestled in close, body fitting snuggly in the area across his shoulders and under his neck. If Vox had a cat, he imagines it would sit someplace similar. Then, two little arms wrapped around his neck in a warm hug.

One little sigh later and the kid was asleep.

You know, Velvette would get upset if he kept spending every night here. Not to mention that he couldn’t exactly entertain Val with him in the room. He wasn’t going to tolerate him sleeping on the floor anymore either, not after everything.

Great. Guess they were going to have to call the contractor, see if they could add another floor to the tower. A mini one. Just enough for a small room. Of course, there’d be stairs in both his and Velvette’s space since their little sharing of him wasn’t going to go away any time soon. Hm, more thoughts for a different day. For now, he’d settle happily to sleep, for the victories he claimed today and the ones to start tomorrow.