Chapter Text
Vox was so proud of himself, much too proud of himself some might say. Like Alastor, he'd say that, and he has several times, much to the TV-Man's chagrin. He has the radio demon in his claws, hell on his side, war on heaven and more social power than he could ever imagine! If only he had this kind of influence on earth...ah well, he made it there eventually. He hummed to himself smugly as he walked the halls with a purpose, practically sauntering his way over to his main office after making a tinsy winsy phone call to Lucifer himself, posing as Charlie to get the ancient fuck moving without so much as a hint of suspicion. He'd been watching a while anyhow, he knows what the short king is like. Vox stands in front his large window, gazing out at the newly rallied flames of hell, rife with citizens up for his cause. It's all so new, so exciting. He allowed himself a chuckle, shaking his head as he spoke lowly to the empty space.
"Tsk tsk, Lulu. All high and mighty, yet you're the most pathetic prick to have been sent down to this literal hellhole."
"Well, I wouldn't disregard all your qualities so quickly, dear chap! You certainly still have a chance to take gold in that award, Vox.."
Ah, there was that grating voice. Vox was tempted to toss a cable over that irritating grin just for making that comment, but given prior attempts, he knows it won't really stop Alastor from yapping his ear off. He rolled his eyes, turning toward the deer demon with a raised brow, forcing his usual smug smirk.
"Oh Alastor, don't be so harsh on yourself. You'd make the cut just as easily..."
Alastor raised a brow.
"So you admit you count in the category, then?"
"Shut up, prick."
Vox glitches microscopically, huffing to himself as he sharply turns back toward the window, picking up a glass from a side table just off to the left of him, and pouring himself a double scotch. He swirls the drink around in his hands, unable to really stay mad about it. The old Vox might've entertained that bit a little longer, but he felt too good to really let a snide comment bring his mood down. His smirk creeps up again as he watches a small glint of gold shine in the distance, zipping around aimlessly.
"You know....i've no clue what you intend to do with the king when he arrives,"
Alastor broke the pondering silence with that classic radio hum, tilting his head back as he leaned into the chair he's been strapped to for the past week or so.
"but with your record, i'd say you haven't properly thought this through."
His tone darkens slightly, clearly mocking him for what felt like the umpteenth time. Vox dismisses it quickly, waving his hand limply, but Alastor simply smiles a tad wider.
"Yeah yeah, make up all the bullshit you want to make fun of me, I don't care."
Vox's eyes trained the golden flash from earlier, steadily making it's clumsy approach. Did....did Lucifer not know how location works?
"Last i checked, your tongue was pure silver, but sure let's pretend together, shall we?"
Alastor narrowed his eyes, grin growing ever wider. His eyes took a brighter red glow as he muttered lowly.
"You REALLY think things through. TRULY every proposition you propose is tight and enticing, NEVER would anyone deny you, would they Vincent?"
A stray cable whipped at Alastor's face, narrowly missing his eye but unfortunately shattering his monocle on impact. Alastor stares at the wire with mild annoyance, teeth gritting tightly.
"It's Vox."
in an instant, vox zapped his way in front of Alastor, hands barely restrained behind himself as he tries to keep up this blasé demeanour.
"And don't you forget what got you here in the first place, Al-"
Alastor lets out a sharp laugh.
"HAH! Seems you forgot yourself! I made the deal, you accepted!"
Another cable whips its way around the radio demon and yanks him forward, Vox's heel stopping it from rolling any further, though unfortunately giving Alastor an unflattering angle. His grin strains slightly, highlighting the eye bags under his eyes even more. Despite his whole unbothered act, Alastor was truly, and utterly bothered. He could barely sleep without running the risk of Vox doing something stupidly immature or downright disturbing, not to mention being forced to witness the newly elevated libido between two particular Vees every other night.
Vox's eyes raked over Alastor's demeanour, noticing a slight twitch in the other's eye. The smirk returns over the plasma faced prick, and he leans forward ever slightly, getting all up in the other's face.
"What?"
He leans even closer, hand ghosting over the other man's before landing on the armrest, the other still pulling the cable tightly, straining on Alastor even more. The radio demon, no surprise, seems more displeased. Vox had to hand it to him, its really hard to see, even from up close the smiley trashbag was hard to read. He knew well enough that Alastor prided himself on being unpredictable, unreadable.
"Somethin' the matter, Al?"
He leans closer still, practically slamming his face into the other's, if not for Alastor pulling his own head back so far it snapped loose and fell back fully, dangling over the head-rest limply, causing Vox to pause with slight surprise, turning to more annoyance. He shook the chair, leaning back now as Alastor's head flops back into place with a loud crack.
"Seriously?"
"That damned screen of yours is blinding, Vox. Pardon me for needing my space."
Alastor huffs, looking over the TV man with unsubtle judgement for the earlier approach, but decidedly pays it no attention, knowing full well it'd only get worse if he gave it so much as an acknowledging glare.
"You'd expect the brightness of your face to reflect your actual mind's capacity for intelligence and not your ego-"
The cables tighten suddenly without warning, gaining the smallest squeak from the dear demon just as a reflex to the constriction.
"I need to find a way to keep you quiet."
"Ah, that would be useful. Say, why not try to find something for yourself while you're at it?"
The two go back and forth as per their usual verbal sparring, throwing both meaningless insults mixed with horrible mockery us fans have yet to pick up on the emotional significance behind them. The natural blood-red hue of hell creeps through the screaming rain clouds, a flash of lighting illuminating their faces (or at least Alastor's) as they slowly became more and more at odds, before a small flash of gold alerts Alastor's gaze toward the window.
"...What is that?"
"Oh-ho no no no, you're not just gonna gloss over calling me a-"
Both had turned their head to the rapidly approaching angel rocketing through the air like a poorly trained pilot, eyes glued to his phone in old man confusion. It was seconds later that the very same man crashed through the window. Vox, moving in pure self-preservation, pushes off the chair to save his own ass, sacrificing Alastor to the impact zone, to which the fallen Angel immediately crash landed in. Alastor let out some weird static heavy yelp mixed with some garbled words Vox couldn't recognise.
"AHA!"
the king exclaimed proudly as his phone pings with "you have arrived at your destination" three times, with a small duck-quack rendition of an arrival horn. He looked up from his phone to see he'd landed on the bound deer, and blinked slowly.
"hey wait a sec-"
A white glowing net is tossed at Lucifer, and unfortunately Alastor by proxy, before stringing both up upside down. Lucifer struggled, but quickly realised they were angelically infused.
"wh- WHO THE FUCK-"
Vox comes out of his little hidey hole and observes the two strung up from the ceiling, Lucifer trashing around like a rabid dog and Alastor silently contemplating life with his smile now rendered to a tight lipped smirk, lids hooded with strong irritation.
"Well, fuck me."
Vox chuckled.
"That was easy-"