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Something had changed in Alastor after losing to Adam.
“Fuck!” Vox shouted, his back striking a brick wall. Blood dripped down his screen from his lips and his eye spun wild, stuck in the—useless—hypnotizing swirl. He staggered to his feet, stepping to the side to avoid the falling debris knocked loose from the hit. Vox gathered electricity in his hands. “Let’s try that again.”
He shot forward from the wall in a flash and guided the sparking energy in the air toward his rival smirking at him—who remained in his normal form. No antlers or elongated limbs. No extra static. No monstrous teeth chomping toward Vox.
The Radio Demon appeared as dapper as ever, but the chill of viciousness under his skin and lacing through the airwaves made Vox as unnerved as the lack of Alastor’s words.
Alastor hadn’t said a thing since the fight started and Vox wished he hadn’t answered that postcard.
“You are cordially invited to join my broadcast!” Alastor had written. “Arrive of your own will or I’ll hunt you down in the studio.”
Vox’s pride kept him from telling Val or Velvette that he planned to answer the message and give Alastor a piece of his mind.
His anger kept him from thinking he could lose.
Both emotions failed him as Alastor dodged the electrical blast and landed another hit that threw Vox across the yard. He skidded in the rubble of their fight, out of breath and ribs broken.
Alastor took the moment Vox got to his knees to hit him again with the thickest part of his shadow tentacles. It slammed him into the ground, shattering the crumbling pavement.
The hits didn’t stop.
Fast and vicious, Alastor held nothing back and left Vox a wheezing heap on the ground. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t even strike his fist on the ground in frustration at how totally he’d lost.
“Now then,” Alastor said, kneeling next to Vox’s head. His saccharine voice did nothing to hide his smugness in victory. “Are you ready to star in the broadcast? It has been so very long since an Overlord has appeared. Hell really is overdue to remember who I am after that whole Lucifer saving the day thing on the news. Can’t let anyone believe me to be the weaker one, can I?”
Oh, Alastor had changed.
He was actually going to kill Vox.
“Jokes on you,” Vox forced out through the static and glitching stuttering. His screen remained miraculously in tact, but the rest of his body barely held together. “I can mute myself. No screams for you.”
If he was going to die, he could at least take that away from Alastor.
“That’s all right,” Alastor chuckled. He kicked Vox onto his back and stood on his chest. He put the base of his microphone stand in the center of Vox’s throat and pressed. “I can narrate your last breaths just as easily.”
Vox gritted his teeth together.
“Nothing else to say?” Alastor asked. He stepped on Vox’s chest, heel digging into the broken rib. “No cursing? No denial? No begging for your life?”
Vox smiled and pulled up text on his screen, “Not while that mic is on. I’m done, so just get it over with.”
“Ah, you really are the one that escaped.” Alastor huffed and pulled the microphone back, freeing Vox’s neck from the pressure. Alastor spun the staff and grinned wider. “You’ve put me in a good mood friend, so how about a generous deal?”
“No.”
Deals with Alastor never went in anyone’s favor but the Radio Demon.
“Now, now. None of that.” Alastor stabbed his staff through Vox’s chest, straight through to the ground. Vox screeched in pain before he could mute his voice. Alastor laughed and twisted the staff. “You didn’t even hear me out.”
“Fucker,” Vox growled. The pain fueled his limbs and he grabbed the staff with slick claws. “I’m not making a deal with you!”
“You have two ways forward the way I see it,” Alastor said. He waved his hand to the side and the shadows opened, spilling out his minions. The figures stood clumped together with blank faces and creepy smiles. “We could proceed with the original plan of broadcasting your demise on my show and capturing your soul in my microphone to join the rest of my little puppets, or you can sign this lovely little contract and join my other toys, Husker and Nifty.”
A golden contract appeared, already written and ready for a signature. The terms were too specific to Vox’s soul to have been a boilerplate contract. Vox asked in horror, “How long have you had that?”
“That is an irrelevant matter,” Alastor said. He held it closer for Vox to read—the terms sucked for Vox. In exchange for a spared life, he sold Alastor his soul and total, complete servitude. The few stipulations to let Vox maintain any dignity were related to businesses he hadn’t thought about in decades. That hadn’t existed in decades. Alastor hummed and glanced at the writing. “But it could do for an update, I suppose. You can’t keep VoxTech or all those little souls you’ve collected on your own, of course, but I suppose I can graciously allow visits to your previous partners.”
The lines added themselves to the contract: One day a week Vox could visit Valentino and Velvette.
“Go fuck yourself, Al.” Vox snarled. “Just kill me and be done with it.”
“That isn’t an option,” Alastor said, tapping his finger against the staff of his microphone. “I already told you—puppet or toy. You aren’t allowed to escape in any other way, dear friend. You have lost and you’re mine now, one way or another.”
“Fuck you.” Vox snarled. He tugged on the pole still sitting through his ribs and growled. “I’d rather be a pup—”
“Before you finish that sentence,” Alastor said, leaning close. He nodded his head, drawing the shadow minions closer. “I should clarify that these adorable little puppets are empty minded. Wiped clean of all those nasty little thoughts and personalities that made them so annoying. You wouldn’t remember a thing about your life—none of your successes or…friends, as you may call them.”
Vox stared at the shadows, tilting their heads back and forth. Was that his future? Everything he knew gone? No memories of Val or Velvette? The best things to happen to him since he arrived in Hell?
His stomach twisted beneath the searing pain of his impaled chest.
“And I can do that without any deal at all required,” Alastor said, his smile widening. “That power is my little secret—of course, you won’t be able to tell anyone should you take my deal, but at least you’ll have the privilege of knowing!”
He didn’t want to disappear, but the alternative…being Alastor’s toy?
“It pains me that you’re still so conflicted about the obvious choice,” Alastor said. He dangled the contract up and down in front of Vox’s face. “I’m surprised you aren’t jumping at the chance to save your little companions.”
“Nothing in that contract guarantees their safety,” Vox said, voice weaker. He was still bleeding. Right. Vox’s face flickered. “And I doubt you add in that clause—so what are you getting at?”
“You can’t visit your friends if they’ve been eaten, now can you? That would break that new little clause I’ve added.” Alastor shook his head. He pinched the side of Vox’s screen. “Besides, if I’ve got you for entertainment, why would I spare them a thought?”
Vox looked at the pole in his chest.
He could still take a third option: Running.
His energy was low from the fight, but if he focused and chose the right moment, he could transform himself and sprint.
“I see that look and it won’t work.” Alastor let go of his microphone and slammed his hand into Vox’s chest, claws digging in deep. Shadows crept out of his fingertips, flowing inside Vox with a tar like consistency. “I do hate to lose such a fun toy, but it appears your mind is made up. Let’s not dally!”
Fuck.
The darkness crawled through his veins and Vox screamed as the staff yanked itself out. Blood gushed through the wounds and shadows filled it in a mockery of a bandage. He felt it crawl over him and under his skin.
Alastor grinned and shoved his hand further down.
The shadows continued to crawl, the broadcast Alastor first planned all but forgotten—Vox didn’t know why that stuck out to him. He laughed in fear and tried to scramble back but the tendrils dragged him back.
It swallowed him and he was going to disappear into Alastor and never return and—
“I’ll take it! I’ll take the deal!” Vox shouted as the shadows licked at the edge of his screen. His voice cracked in fear and he breathed in gasps. “Stop!”
“I thought you would.” Alastor pulled his hand back and the shadows receded back toward their master. He summoned a pen and held it to Vox’s shaking hand. “If you would make it official, please?”
Vox signed his name and cursed his own cowardice.
Alastor’s green collar and chain fitted themselves at the same time all of the chains Vox held broke. At least the souls were freed instead of given to the Radio Demon. Val and Velvette would take them in.
They’d be stronger; that’s…that’s what mattered.
“You know, I’m rather pleased with how this turned out.” Alastor hummed and lifted Vox to his feet with his tentacles, holding him up like a limp doll. “I really had planned to add you to my little shadow collection after that stunt you pulled giving Lucifer all the credit on your news shows, but this is much better.”
Vox hung and dropped his head. The chain around his throat felt surreal; he’d worked so hard to never be one of the losers in hell and it was all thrown away because of someone he’d once called a friend.
“Now then, let’s get you all cleaned up.” Alastor snapped his finger and Vox’s torn suit disappeared, replaced with an old turtleneck and overcoat. “I always preferred your older look—less of a copy of my own fashion.”
“I preferred the old version of this as well.” Alastor chuckled and tapped Vox’s screen. “I do believe you’re due for a downgrade. The older model had far more character.”
Alastor raised his hand to snap again and Vox’s voice broke on his panicked, “No!”
“Vox,” Alastor said. “I own you now. I can do whatever I like—I know you’re new to this, but you don’t have a say!”
“Please,” Vox said, his pride long shattered at the fear of what could happen. “I’m begging you not to bring back that old head. Anything else. I’ll wear anything else, but don’t make me go back to that awful thing. Please.”
“You didn’t beg this much when I was threatening your life,” Alastor said, tilting his head. “Was it that bad?”
“Yes,” Vox said, wishing he had the strength to hold himself up. It was bad enough he was begging, but having to physically lean on Alastor’s power to stay upright made it worse. “It was heavy and awful, Al. I hated it. Please don’t make me go back to that.”
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Alastor said, patting the front of his jacket. “I’ll grant this request.”
Vox dropped his head in relief.
“Let’s head home,” Alastor said. He straightened Vox’s jacket lapels. “I can’t wait to see everyone’s faces when they see the hotel’s newest staff member. This is going to be such fun.”
Alastor’s shadows engulfed them both and Vox hoped the other Vees could forgive him.