Chapter Text
Things were quiet in Pride that Tuesday night, only two turf wars echoing screams through the streets. The sound pulsed in time with the low music thrumming through the red light district, the fast rhythm of desperate souls in every club searching for escape, for fame, for feeling.
In Valentino's studio, things were no different. A party of sorts was being held, though not one with any particular class or style, at least not in Alastors eyes. Looking down at the tightly packed floor of bodies throwing themselves at each other, his smile twitched a little in disgust. The fact the demons were slaves to their own impulses was pathetic, just like the ones running this ‘show’. He tilted his head, eyeing the 3 overlords from his shadowy perch. Valentino was surrounded by 2 new hires, running a predatory hand over them, no doubt whispering honey lies in their ears. Velvette was engrossed on her phone, her eyebrow occasionally twitching as she scrolled. And that damned television simply looked bored.
Alastor watched as Valentino lifted his head from the dancers neck, smirking and reaching out a hand to Vox, who batted it away, scowling a little at the other as he replied to whatever no doubt crass and inane comments the moth was making. Alastor hummed a little, eyes scanning the building for any ways inside, all he needed was a single darkened corner. Unfortunately for him, the damned television insisted on every inch of his territory being infested with machinery and bright LEDs. He scowled down at the infuriating demon, damn the princess for asking this of him, and damn himself for knowing how much he would get out of this. A simple task really, retrieve Angels possessions from his dressing rooms so he wouldn't have to see Valentino, oh how his heart just bleeds thinking of the poor spider needing to face the consequences of his own foolishness, of course he's just so happy to help Angel with his contract problems. Alastor chuckled to himself, he would be able to hold this gracious favour over their heads for a long while, just think of all the petty annoyances he will avoid! And of course, one more point of favour from the princess can only help him, she doesn’t seem to realise the power favours hold, especially those from royalty. So Alastor will happily take advantage of her ignorance, basking in the power from every tiny contract she inadvertently makes with her requests, not to mention the sheer entertainment of the demons scurrying about the hotel, the circus performance of redemption and failed dreams. Now that's a show worth watching.
Caught up in thoughts, he missed what was happening below, the sound of shattering glass catches his ear and he turns back to the floor. Valentino is standing, holding the broken wrist of a sinner who had previously been in his favour, a shattered cocktail glass lies on the floor by their feet. Pathetic.
Vox scoffs at them, standing and pulling out his phone. They exchange more likely pointless and ridiculous barbs, and the media demon walks away, sweeping his eyes around the floor, the demons and then. Surely not, Alastor couldn't help but catch his breath, he must have imagined the Television meeting his eyes from that split second. He had been careful entering the territory, this was far from his first time sneaking onto another Overlords turf, though normally with far bloodier intentions. Though he supposes it's not too late for that. He watches as Vox enters the studio, the door slowly closing with a hiss behind him.
Several windows go dark, lights flickering on and off and their fuses blow from the power surge. None of the demons below seem to have noticed the minor outage, blinded by the lights and sounds around them. Alastor however grins, an opportunity has presented itself. As always the Vees are their own worst enemy, and have created the crack in the armour just wide enough for him to slip in. Closing his eyes, he slips into the shadows, feeling his power meld with them, he feels the empty rooms, the spaces within, the wild static of the overlord a floor above. Tilting his head, he selects his target, a small storage room full of equipment connected to an empty recording studio. Alastor focuses on the space, filling it, twisting his power through the darkness, and opening his eyes again.
He steps out of the storage room into the studio, amused, he claps his hands and plays a laugh track. How utterly foolish, to be so simply outplayed by-
“Look who it is, come right into my studio. What the fuck do you want?”
Alastor stops dead, adjusting his smile to be as wide and arrogant as possible, “Ah just taking in the sights, I am always being told I should engage with the ‘modern era’ more, so I took a little trip over to see the most powerful and up to date technology on offer!”
Alastor gestures at the broken studio equipment in front of him, covered in dust and stacked precariously in a pile by whoever last used it.
A curse rings across the speakers, “oh you fucking-”
Alastor turns and grins at the security camera, as a crackle of electricity races across it, brightening and with a flash Vox appears in front of him scowling. The smell of ozone fills the air as sparks gather around the other demon. Alastor simply smiles, much to the televisions evident disgust.
“You have some fucking nerve coming here, you want a fight? Surely you're not stupid enough to pick a fight here , the centre of my empire, with my alliance at my back. Actually maybe you are that stupid, spending time with Lucifer's bitch has clearly rotted what was left of your brain.” Vox sneers, a smug look on his screen.
Alastors eyes narrow, his grin widening slightly to show sharp teeth, “Hardly an empire, I've seen more impressive constructions in the burning piles of trash outside. And believe me if I wished to fight, I would choose a better stage. Oh no I'm here for pure simple curiosity!”
The damned television takes the bait, his eye twitching, “Oh you piece of shit, I'll show you a stage just you fucking wait.”
Static thrums through the air, popping and crackling as the screens around them light up, the far wall slides back, revealing a floor to ceiling window giving a perfect view of the party below. Cables spring from the ceiling, circling around Alastor ready to strike. “Trust me, I can make this a stage.” He grins expectantly at Alastor, looking far too confident in his position. Well that just wouldn't do now would it, Alastor hates nothing more than predictability, it makes the world so boring. A flash of red eyes meeting each other, and the radio demon can't help but wonder how the game will be played this time, with words, fists or something else entirely.
The room is silent for several long moments, the only sound the faint music from below as the two overlords size each other up. Alastor hums, deliberately turning his back on Vox and walking to the window, trailing a claw down the glass leaving a faint scratch.
“I have a proposition.”
Behind him, Vox squints, trying to figure out what the bastards game was this time, though quickly schooling his face into his signature smile before Alastor turns to him. “Oh now you're propositioning me? Oh why my dearest Alastor, I never saw this coming, this is such a shock!” He mocked, causing a threatening glare to be sent his way.
“Hah, no.” Alastor taps the glass, having drawn a perfect circle with the tip of his claw. “In fact, this would involve a significant reduction in the amount of relations that happen around here.”
Vox couldn't help but walk closer, Alastor played a dangerous game but damn if he couldn't help but be drawn in. Vox joined Alastor by the window, unable to help his curiosity. The television stared in confusion, looking through the glass at Valentino, perfectly highlighted by the circle. “Alright you bastard, what the fuck is this-”
Vox froze, the unmistakable click and cold weight against the back of his head, the feel of the angelic tipped bullet pressed to his casing, hearing the soft breaths from the figure behind him. He couldn't show fear, not to him . Keeping his breathing level, and the best unconcerned tone he could manage.
“Oh? I didn't really think this was your style, you're always parading about with your knives and claws.” He paused, “How did you even get a hold of Carmilla’s guns anyway?” Breathe in.
“Hm, not very difficult to obtain. And you are correct for once, this isn't my style.” Breathe out.
“It's yours.”
A sharp inhale, Vox spins around to stare at him. He couldn't stop the surprise showing on his face as Alastor pressed the gun into his hands.
“What, what the fuck is this?” The exhale was far too shaky, Alastor smirked at his victory.
“You're my rival, while you are lesser, I do expect a certain level of power to hold that title. Power, and at least a little respect .” His hand never left the gun, still holding it pressed to Vox’s hand, who couldn't help but curl his claws around the familiar weight. Once secure, Alastors hand slid up to hold his wrist, pulling it up and level in front of them, level with the circle, with Valentino.
Alastor pressed closer behind the television, almost touching his back, leaning over his shoulder slightly to whisper in his ear. “There is no respect in that life, I see it, how much they hold you back. Imagine what you could do cut free, the heights you could soar to. You've been a joke for far too long, you should do something about it”
The gun shook slightly, matching the faint shakes of Vox’s arm. The televisions breath was soft, and far too fast. His words were quiet, “what's your game Alastor, why do you…?” The gun drops slightly, “ Why? ”
A dark chuckle, “ Why not? The status quo needs shaken up, the audience grows bored without a new scene, the story grows stale if it's not given something fresh. Like you said, isn't this a suitable stage? Time to put on a show.”
The static in the air mixed with mic feedback, the machinery around them twisting with the combined energy. The shadows danced around the room, uncontrolled as their masters attention was fully focused on another.
The gun dropped to the ground with a clatter, both demons staring at it in surprise. Vox pushed away, shaking his head slightly to clear the buzzing corners at the edge of his vision.
The two stared at each other, before the shadows surged forward, and the radio demon was gone. Leaving Vox alone in the dark room, illuminated only by the light of his screen and the dim glow from the party outside. He reached down and carefully picked up the gun, examining it. A very standard model, the edge still stained with the blood of its previous owner. He slipped it inside his suit jacket, staring again at the scratched circle. What the fuck. He shook his head again, brushing away the imagined dirt on his suit and smoothing the leftover static charge.
Alastor returned to his perch overlooking the party, maintaining his perfectly wide smile. What an interesting night this turned out to be, the television's reactions were truly enjoyable at times. He paused, he had entirely forgotten about his task, his reason for being here. Ah no matter, the princess will accept that it was just too difficult a task, oh surely she wouldn't want to risk her benefactors wellbeing. Alastor sighs, it's far too easy to manipulate her, it gets boring.
Movement below caught his eye, the television is rejoining the party, fascinating. To most others he would appear entirely ordinary, shark smile plastered over his screen. Alastor is not most people, he knows his rival more than any other, he can see the cracks, the way the media demons eyes scan every shadow.
Vox strides over to the moth, who appears to be sulking into a drink. The previous dancers and Velvette are missing, likely wandered off and the lonely look doesn't do the pathetic excuse for an overlord any favours.
Alastor watches with his ever present smile as Vox hands over one of his tablets with what looks to be some document full of small printed text open. Interesting. The television is difficult to read being a screen, but he has no such difficulty with the wretched moth. Paying attention now, Alastor watches Valentino's face closely, making out the words, “for the studio finance? You know I don't give a shit just fix it! Why? Fucking useless piece of shit, whatever fine I'll sign off on it, fucking bullshit. Oh fuck off.” Barely even a glance at what he was reading as he scrawled his signature onto the tablet. Vox turned away, walking back inside.
Alastor knows he should leave, he'd been caught once already. But the prospect of this new game was too tempting, and Alastor had never been one to resist a new form of entertainment. Just what was his rival up to now.
The party continued in blissful ignorance for several minutes, until the shot rang out. Every demon present stood still, staring in fear at Valentino, who laid there with smoke pouring from the bullet wound in his head.
The death of an overlord was always a spectacle, what would happen now is the question. Chaos began to unfold, the partygoers running to avoid blame, workers whispering about their contracts, Velvette storming forward. And above it all, a red eye framed by a circle of glass, meeting his gaze.
Alastor laughed, and laughed.
Oh this was going to be so much fun .