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After the battle or, Vox’s manic little meltdown, things spiraled quickly. His head got ripped off by Valentino, who then took him and Velvette back inside the V Tower, obviously not before destroying his machine with the power of friendship and jerking each other off.
The moment he found himself lying on a cushion in the living room, he watched his partners sitting down without saying a single word. They looked tired, and worse, they wouldn’t answer him.
Silent treatment.
Infantilizing. Ridiculous. And yet… expected, coming from a short–fused moth and an inexperienced overlord who clearly had no idea what had been at stake. They didn’t know the plan, didn’t know how much Vox had poured into that one chance, his final chance. His grand design.
Destroyed.
By the princess.
By his teammates.
And, of course, by Alastor.
Just thinking the deer’s name sent a burst of static crawling across his screen, glitching, stuttering, hurting. Actual pain. He must have been more damaged than he realized; glitches usually didn’t affect him like this. Something in his programming was off.
Valentino’s voice cut through the distortion.
“Uhh, Vel. What’s that? He’s flickering. .”
“Probably a malfunction in his brain.” Velvette didn’t even look up from her phone, curled on the sofa like she couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge him. That irritated Vox. A lot.
"QUÉ? DID I DAMAGE HIS BRAIN?” Valentino panicked.
“Val, I’m calling him stupid.”
“Oh.”
What the hell kind of dialogue was that? Insults? Sure. That was nothing new. Their whole dynamic was built on back-and-forth snark. But the room today felt… different. Hostile in a way he couldn’t decode. And they had only been together for, what, twenty minutes?
He spotted Shok.wav wandering down the hallway and felt a spark of relief — his little shark was alive and safe.
“SHOK.WAV! C’mere, boy!”
A large figure approached. For a second, Vox flinched, everything was ten times bigger when you didn’t have a body.
“Hey, Shok.wav. No. Out. Go to your room.” Velvette’s voice cut sharp.
The shark obeyed instantly.
“Oh, great. Now you’re not letting me talk to my own dog?”
“You’re talking a lot for someone who almost kept us from making it home alive,” Velvette shot back, standing from the sofa. “I’m tired. Valentino, we’re going to bed.”
“What? But I’m not tired.”
“NOW.”
Vox groaned. “What about me? You’re just leaving me here?”
“I don’t know, Vox. Why don't you manage on your own? ?” Velvette flashed a forced smile — one he knew too well. Because he had taught it to her. A venomous smile meant to intimidate, the kind that radiated confidence and cruelty in equal measure.
The same smile Alastor had taught him.
His screen glitched again. He looked at Valentino, searching for… something. An answer, reassurance, maybe even a plea for help he couldn’t bring himself to say aloud. But Valentino’s expression had shifted, it was irritation.
They really were mad at him.
Even if he tried to understand their side, he couldn’t stop feeling the remorse of his failure.
The door slammed open. He jolted. He couldn’t even try to hide in the position he was in. Looking up, he saw Angel Dust, crying. He seemed to be absolutely falling apart, sobbing and wailing like a baby. Vox was honestly having some fun watching Angel get so fragile; he wondered what it could be this time. For such a weak sinner, it could be anything.
Unfortunately, Angel Dust’s voice is only tolerable up to a point for Vox, so he spotted one of his cameras and teleported to his room. It didn’t help much because he was too far from his bed.
He saw the chair where Alastor had been sitting and felt the urge to burn it—though without a body, he couldn’t.
He took a deep breath and tried not to think about that disgusting red bastard anymore, and tried to rest. Seeing that Valentino and Velvette were extremely pissed at him and that Angel Dust would probably be staying with them for a while, the next few weeks were going to be the worst.
During the first week after the battle, Vox realized every camera or device he used to teleport had been removed. Which made it nearly impossible for him to move around the tower without someone’s help.
How the hell was he supposed to work as just a screen?
“So… after your little meltdown, things got complicated around here. You’re canceled, Vox.”
Vox sat on the table where they sometimes had breakfast together. He stared at the holograms Velvette summoned, comments from multiple platforms telling him to kill himself, opinion videos dragging him, memes mocking his current state. He read every name carefully. Once he got his body back, he would hunt each and every one of them down and make them pay for even thinking they had the right to criticize him.
“So what? It’s not like Valentino isn’t canceled every other week for hitting some whore in a club. Why is my thing such a big deal?”
“I… cannot believe I just heard that.” Angel Dust’s unmistakable voice echoed from the left side of the room. He sat next to Valentino, who was unusually quiet—even after being insulted by Vox.
“Remind me again why the FUCK he’s here?” Vox asked Velvette, who ignored him completely, sipping her coffee and typing furiously on her phone.
“Working.” Valentino exhaled smoke slowly—great, he was pissed. “Just like we will have to work our asses off to pull the company out of the shit you dumped us into.”
The moth walked over and grabbed him so hard Vox could feel his glass straining not to crack. Nothing unusual for Valentino but this time Vox had no way to defend himself. All he could do was talk.
“You’re making a storm out of nothing. Who cares? What happened was just another Wednesday in Hell, seriou—”
His sentence was cut short when Valentino smashed him against the window, forcing him to look outside. It should’ve been a beautiful view. He could see Imps and sinners everywhere, trying to repair the destruction caused by the blast. And there was also a crowd—reasonably large— protesting with signs and raised fists, screaming themselves hoarse, though Vox couldn’t hear anything from this height.
Valentino pressed him harder against the glass. If Vox had a neck, he was sure Val would be choking him.
“See down there? You destroyed part of our tower with that ridiculous beam and—ah… there.” He dragged Vox’s screen across the window, producing an awful screech. “You wrecked part of our district. People are pissed, Vox. They’re pissed at us because of you. And even though you were the one who never shut the FUCK up about reputation and professionalism, you ruined everything. And now Velvette and I have to fix it.”
Vox started laughing. An actual laughing fit. He didn’t know if Valentino was trying to act Macho because Angel Dust was around, or if the whole situation was just too absurd. They were framing him as the sole villain when the plan had fallen apart the moment he lost his body, the exact moment they tried to stop him. Everything had been going perfectly. None of this conversation made sense to him.
“You two are unbelievable. The plan was going fine, and just because YOU felt left out—which never even happened, I always let you be by my side—this whole plan was agreed on by all of us.”
His screen trembled as Valentino flipped him to face him again. Val was furious, but there were tears in his eyes—not enough to say he was crying, but definitely held back.
“You’re a fucking piece of shit, Vox. A complete fucking idiot.”
Valentino dropped him onto the table hard enough that Vox fell on his back, unable to lift himself.
“Unlike you, I actually care about this company, my job, and my partners. I’m the new CEO of VoxTek now. And you’re staying in the backstage. I don’t care how much you beg, what you don’t like, what hurts you. I want you to go fuck yourself. And you should thank me for not finishing the job. Because you know I can, Voxxie.”
Vox couldn’t see him, but he’d bet Valentino was smiling while saying his nickname with so much hatred. And he wasn’t wrong—Val could end him fast, smash him on the floor, break him in half. But he never did. Even angry, he still avoided damaging Vox’s actual system.
“Okay, let’s say you become CEO…”
“I am,” Valentino snarled.
“Uh-huh, right… but why you? You barely organize your own shit. Why not Velvette?”
“Vox, I think it’s still not clear to you, sweetheart: you’re out. You don’t get to give opinions about the Vees anymore. What you’re going to do now is just watch. Not like you weren’t doing that anyway, spying on our lives. And today? You’re not staying with any of us, because you’ve already pissed me off enough. Now go fuck yourself and shut the hell up.”
Velvette grabbed him, set him on the couch, turned on the TV, left the remote beside him so he could change channels, and walked out without looking back.
Knowing he was being purposely ignored made his screen burn with anger. He saw Valentino taking drag after drag, clearly trying to calm himself. Angel Dust sat beside him, uncomfortable which was funny, since Vox couldn’t hurt anyone without his powers or body. Unfortunately.
“Val, you guys can’t be serious, right?”
Valentino snapped his cigarette in half, stomped it into the floor, marched toward Angel Dust, grabbed him by the wrist, and dragged him out while muttering something in Spanish. Vox was sure it was an insult.
Vox took a deep breath and stared at the TV ahead of him. He still couldn’t believe it and honestly, there wasn’t much difference between him and the screen in front of him.
Except one:
Vox was now the only television nobody wanted around.
By the third week, Vox was keeping Valentino company though Val still wasn’t speaking to him.
At best, Vox would hear him mutter something in Spanish just to be petty, or watch him flirt with Angel Dust in ways that were painfully sweet and annoyingly romantic. Every gesture felt like a reminder of how much of an idiot Vox had been.
And after enough lectures, curses, and death threats, Vox finally started to understand. He’d hurt his friends. Ignored and disrespected Valentino and Velvette, pushed them aside, made everything about himself. Only went after them when it was convenient. Apologized whenever the subject came up, but it never landed, he’d always been terrible at apologizing the normal way. Money, gifts, sex… those usually fixed things. But this time he’d fucked up so royally that none of that would even scratch the surface. He’d have to actually try, really try, if he wanted them to believe him again.
Now the two of them sat alone in the office, Vox’s office, which Valentino had basically claimed for himself because that’s where the files and cameras were. Vox hovered nearby, helping him navigate the machine. The room was quiet. Too quiet. Vox didn’t dare say anything. He was exhausted from arguing, and he knew Val had to be too.
The silence pressed on him, heavy. He felt like he was walking on eggshells. Like he couldn’t say or do anything without making it worse. Like the whole thing between them was already over, doomed to never go back to what it was and that thought hurt. He liked Valentino. He liked having him close. But now… now he felt like his presence was nothing but an irritation.
“Val?”
“Mm?”
“Do you think… you’ll ever be able to forgive me?”
Valentino dragged a hand down his face with a long, tired sigh. Vox regretted speaking immediately.
“What do you mean, Vox?”
“No—sorry. Forget it. I was just… thinking out loud.”
“Vox,” Val said, voice flat, “I don’t know. Honestly? I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive you. It depends on what you do. What you choose. I’m sure as hell not forgiving you if you keep kissing that deer’s ass.”
“He bothers you that much?”
“What? No, fuck, you bother me. I couldn’t give less of a shit about Alastor. Fuck him. What bothers me is the way you treated me in front of him, like some trophy. Some little whore you snagged and wanted to flaunt for him. Which, again, fuck him. That part I don’t care about. It was just… unbearable knowing you’d move mountains for him but not for… us.”
Us? Vox didn’t know what Val meant. In the back of his mind, he wished it meant them, but they were— what? Fuck buddies? Affection partners? It didn’t feel like that anymore. Not for Vox.
“You’ve got a lot to think about, Voxxie,” Valentino continued. “We’re a team, for fuck’s sake. You know I’d do anything for us. But if you keep screwing things up, I’m not gonna sit around waiting for you to treat me right or—”
“Or you’ll leave.” Vox’s voice cracked. A tight knot formed in his throat, static buzzing in his head, making everything blur. He didn’t even know if Val had answered.
But then he felt a kiss. Soft. On his cheek.
He hadn’t felt touch in so long — especially from someone who mattered this much. From Valentino. He took a shaky breath, forcing his systems not to overload. Val’s fingers brushed over his antennae, grounding him, soothing him just enough.
Vox didn’t say another word.
He really did have a lot to think about.
A few weeks had passed, and Vox had his new body. Not that it mattered much — his mental state was nowhere near functional. If he hadn’t dragged himself to Valentino and begged him for a new body, he might still be nothing but a screen. And now, even with a body, his powers felt sluggish, unstable. Expected, maybe. After a fight with Alastor, he always ended up a wreck. Just remembering the beating made his face heat with rage.
He pushed himself out of bed, grabbed the last swallow of whiskey from the glass on his bedside table, and stared out the window. Valentino’s posters were plastered across the skyline, advertising him as the new CEO of VoxTek.
Why haven’t they changed the fucking name yet?
Vox could lie and say he cared about his company now — but he didn’t. Not even close. The funny thing was how easy it had become not to care. There wasn’t a single scrap of meaning left in the empire he’d built. He’d lost everything. Maybe he had lost it the moment he shook hands with that damned deer.
Everything had been going so smoothly. His plan was airtight — a little wordplay, influence, fake news, and the Princess would’ve been in his pocket. He could’ve pretended he wanted Valentino to “redeem himself.” With all the chaos in that girl’s head, she might’ve even believed it. The plan was perfect.
Until the deal happened.
Until Vox ruined it.
Until Vox got egocentric.
Ambitious. Arrogant. Miserable. Cowardly. Stupid. Disgusting. Despicable. Sick. Alone.
It was pathetic how easily he forgot everything around him just to fill a void that was never going to heal. The wound of rejection. Vox had never handled rejection well — but in Hell, a sinner couldn’t just kill anyone they wanted. He couldn’t kill the Radio Demon without help. And he had succeeded.
But for some reason, he’d thought having a deal with Alastor was the same as winning. As killing him. As having him.
So why didn’t the wound close?
Why did it only hurt more now that Alastor was gone?
Maybe it was never about Alastor.
Maybe the problem had always been Vox.
Vox, who couldn’t be a good friend.
Vox, who couldn’t be a good boss.
Vox, who failed as a CEO, an Overlord, a lover, a companion — a pathetic excuse for a partner.
His screen glitched again. He barely reacted to it anymore. The pain was still unbearable, but he drowned it in alcohol whenever he could — numbing the glitches, numbing the thoughts.
Thoughts that circled his mind every single day.
He hadn’t seen Velvette or Valentino in a while. Shame kept him in his room — the thought of bumping into employees who had watched him get his ass handed to him, of facing teammates furious with him, of seeing Angel Dust prancing through his halls. The anxiety consumed him until leaving the room felt impossible.
Sometimes Ethan showed up with food. Ethan was a good secretary. Vox never knew if it was out of concern or orders from someone else — but deep down, he hoped at least one person still cared.
Not that he believed he deserved any kindness after everything.
He remembered the words he’d thrown at his friends.
Where’s my approval?
Maybe he really was a bitch who would always crave validation. Always searching for Velvette’s laughter and teasing. Valentino’s love and lust. Alastor’s attention. Ethan’s diligence. Shok.wav’s affection.
That was all he needed — them. He never needed Heaven or Hell or fucking Alastor.
Vox needed them.
He lit a cigarette and stared out the window. Rain blurred the glass; the day felt heavy and melancholic. It was infuriating, being this sentimental. This vulnerable. This alone.
But maybe this was exactly what he deserved — his punishment. And when they were finally ready to talk to him, the first thing Vox would do was apologize. And pray it wasn’t too late.
Because he didn’t know how to live through eternity without his family.