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Valentino glared up at Carmine's tacky warehouse as he slid out of his limo like a ball of slime being poured from a plastic tub. He muttered darkly to himself, clutching his cigarette holder hard enough to almost snap it, walking in with as much of a sulk as he could manage in six inch tall platform stiletto heels.
Attending an Overlord meeting was one of his least favorite things to do and this time he had been ordered to go, like some kind of secretary, by Vox with a dismissive wave of his puny little hand. Valentino growled low in his throat as he remembered their fight, stepping into the elevator in the warehouse lobby and staring balefully at his reflection in the chrome doors.
That fucking piece of shit. He acted like Valentino was stupid or something, as if he wasn't an Overlord in his own right with thousands of souls held in his claws. Oh, but Vox had gone to fucking Yale or some shit when he was alive, so he was allowed to treat everyone else like they were dumb as hell. Egotistical prick. Valentino took an angry drag on his cigarette, letting cherry pink smoke leak out between his teeth like a particularly furious fog machine.
"Listen, just play the presentation, look pretty, and don't fucking talk," Vox had said, left eye wide with rage and teeth bared like a shark. Valentino should have put his goddamn shoe through his smug fucking face right then and there. What was he, some whore to be bossed around? No, no, Valentino was going to make Vox remember he was just as formidable as the rest of them.
Valentino was going to make him pay through the goddamn nose he didn't have for this.
The elevator stopped with a cheerful ding, doors sliding open with a whisper. Valentino pulled himself up to his full height, tightened his core, and thought of murder before stepping out into the conference room hallway like a model down a catwalk. What he had planned to be a grand entrance turned into an effort in futility. The hallway was utterly empty, the only sound the click of his heels on the marble floor.
"Oh, what the fuck," Valentino sighed, slumping back into his usual slouch. Did he fuck up the meeting time? God, he'd never live it down if Vox found that out. Fury clenched his insides and he swore loudly and vehemently in Spanish, stomping his foot for good measure.
Behind him, the elevator dinged again and Valentino felt the air pressure in the hallway change. A hum, not unpleasant but certainly not welcome, began to fill the space as the radio demon made his presence known.
"Alastor," Valentino said, biting back a groan. Wasn't this just perfect. First he had to go to this stupid meeting, now he was alone with the radio demon with his dumb little suit and his fuck ass hair. The moth demon prided himself on being able to make anything, anyone, porn movie sexy but his imagination withered and dropped dead when faced with this antique abomination.
"Valentino." Alastor replied, trademark grin in place. It looked a little strained, eyes narrowed slightly in disgust, and Valentino popped his hip and blew a heart shaped smoke ring at him to piss him off. The red menace waved it away without breaking stride. "What a surprise! Ha, and you're here early! Turning over a new leaf, perhaps? Good job!"
The moth demon blinked. "Early?" he dug his phone out and swore again when he saw the time. "Fucking Daylight Savings! I can't fucking believe this!"
Alastor's radio static turned into a chorus of canned laughter. "You forgot? How unfortunate. I must say, it's unusual for you to be here to represent your compatriots. Let me guess, Vox too busy staring into his wall of screens like some digital Narcissus to join us?"
The insult took Valentino by surprise and he couldn't help the small chuckle that slipped through his teeth with his cigarette smoke. He eyed Alastor up and down for a moment, his own smile big enough to make the Chesire Cat envious as he realized the golden opportunity that had slid right into his lap.
"You know, you really did a number on him after your last little fight, mi amigo," he said with a dark little laugh, eyebrow arching high on his face, "Drove him CRAZY. Blue screened so bad we had to hard reboot him. He spent all night updating all his drivers and shit. It was so goddamn funny. His face didn't work right for two whole days."
"Is that so?" Alastor asked, smile becoming toothy with delight. They walked into the empty conference room together, Valentino ducking to fit in the doorway. This was the time for charm, he thought to himself. Vox and Alastor had one thing in common and that was dramatically oversized egos... and he knew exactly how best to stroke them. Everyone forgot Valentino had honed his craft on street corners and on poles too, he knew how best to lure someone in.
Another curl of vibrant pink smoke escaped Valentino's lips. "He would glitch out for a solid week if anyone mentioned tea. Velvette's nightly chamomile habit became a liability. He broke three mugs. Where did your old timey ass pick up new slang like that?"
Alastor sat in his usual spot, microphone cane cradled in one elbow and hands folded primly on the table. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, like a cat in sunlight, as he imagined the television demon's impotent rage. "Well, my fine fellow, anything for a performance!" he replied, his static turning to cheers and applause.
Valentino loomed over Alastor's side, grin so wide on his face that his gold tooth sparkled in the light. He let his voice go low and silky, a cloying purr. "Say, papito, I can teach you some more new slang, if you want. Just a few new phrases to really drive him wild. Bet you could make him glitch so hard he becomes a glorified Speak & Spell. What do you say, cariño?"
The radio demon eyed him for a moment, expression one of cautious curiosity. His ever present static waxed and waned around them as he thought the offer over, before letting a sliver of something mean touch his smile. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up. "I'm always thrilled to learn new vernacular!" he enthused, gesturing for the moth to take the seat to his left. "What did you have in mind, my elongated friend?"
With another laugh just a hint too sinister for good taste, Valentino oozed into the chair and let his lower arms copy Alastor's polite posture while his upper hand twirled his cigarette holder in the air. He smiled sharply, leaning over to the other demon conspiratorially.
"Do you know what a simp is?"
Vox looked up from his work, glancing at his wall of screens as an alarm began to blare. What the- fucking Christ, if Valentino fucked something up- but no, the alarm wasn't near Carmine's shitty factory. He flipped through screens until he found the right feed, veins lighting up with a sudden dump of adrenaline. Alastor, that red freak show, was standing calmly in front of a Voxtek storefront. He leaned on his cane, tutting gently like a disappointed parent.
"Really, my dear television?" he said, looking at the burned out husk of what had once been an old radio store. Vox grinned to himself, giddy that Alastor had noticed. After their last little tête-à-tête he had gone over there and taken care of the store personally. If you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself, after all. He had watched the place burn to the ground and savored every fucking minute of it.
"So much crime in the Pentagram lately," Vox said with a sneer, face broadcast on the bank of televisions in the store window. "Such a sad state of affairs."
Alastor hummed noncommittally. "Arson is the tool of a coward, Vox," he said. "You hide behind screens instead of facing me yourself." the demon smiled at the televisions, almost leering, "You're nothing but a miserable little fuckboi."
Vox blinked, checking his sound card for errors. Had he heard that right? There's no way he heard that right. There's no way Alastor called him a-
"Perhaps fuckboi is too kind, actually." the demon went on, looking deliriously pleased with himself. "No, old chum, what you are is a simp of the lowest caliber."
Feedback tore through the television demon, screen glitching so hard it cycled through a rainbow of colors. His electric blue claws gouged deep grooves through the sleek metal of his desk.
Alastor laughed airily, watching the fruits of his inflicted damage. Oh, this was fun.
"Wh@t d-d-dId y0u call M3?!" Vox yelled, voice garbled and choppy.
"A simp." Alastor said smugly, pausing to look at his nails. "And not a particularly interesting one either, I'm afraid. No Vox, you are just a garden variety simp. Pathetic really. You try to act all "gaslight gatekeep girlboss" but you're just a dime store nickelodeon with delusions of grandeur."
Vox felt his internal fans kick on as he began to overheat, furious. "I'm n-n0t a simp, wh0 fucking taught y-y-0u-" His screen glitched entirely as he frantically tried to restart the wave of .exe failures beginning to wreck through his systems.
"Oh, but I think you are, my dear!" Alastor said, relishing the reaction he was getting. Each word he said was fired like a bullet, like weaponized absurdist poetry. He let his trans-Atlantic lilt curl around every new word with an almost frightening amount of joie de vivre. "I think you are a simp with absolutely negative rizz to speak of. A utter black hole of rizz. A basic bitch with mid drip. A maidenless, delulu simp who couldn't pass a vibe check if his life depended on it."
The street lights swiftly dimmed, every light bulb in the pristine white Voxtek store exploding. The screens flickered as Vox howled in bewildered rage. As one they all flashed an eye-blinding blue, error messages scrolling quickly as Vox crashed so hard he got blasted back to the Apple II era. The area plunged into darkness and Alastor grinned brightly, twirling his cane as he walked away, a jazzy swing tune dancing through his ambient static.
That moth was a repugnant ne'er-do-well but he couldn't argue with these results!
Inside V Tower, flopped on his chaise lounge like an indolent Victorian opium fiend, Valentino grinned fiercely as he watched the radio demon embarrass Vox so hard it sent him back into the stone age. Besides him, curled up on the other couch with her feet tucked daintily beneath her, Velvette was laughing so hard she was crying. Her eyeliner ran in gray streaks down her face and she couldn't have cared less. Her phone was already buzzing, Sinstagram already reacting to Alastor's verbal beat down like merciless hyenas. She tried to compose herself, attempting desperately to breathe in between fits of giggling.
Valentino turned and winked at her, grinning like a madman. "Simp," he whispered, watching her collapse back into sobbing gales of laughter. He settled back on his chaise with a satisfied smirk, blowing curly smoke rings at the dead security camera on the wall.
Sex and drugs were fucking great, don't get him wrong, but nothing felt as good as revenge did.