Chapter Text
It hurts.
It hurts so damn much.
Vox was just a head at this moment. Loose cables were coming out of the place where his neck should have been. With only a little power left, he could only watch as the Overlords disarmed his weapon.
His masterwork!
He hated the people before him; shouted that they were all ruining everything. These dumbasses. How could the Vees betray him and, even worse, dismantle him? His own boyfriend—he could kind of call Valentino that—had ripped his head from his shoulders, and then they had tried to flee. But Valentino’s wings had been burnt at the end in a fight earlier, and so Vox was forced to see how all of them were ruining his work.
Everybody should just die… including himself, and especially the Radio Demon.
Alastor!
He could never win against the Radio Demon, and that had driven him so far that he had given up on himself. The dreadful feeling still stayed, even after all that. Even after he was just… a head.
He watched as their ridiculous power of friendship turned his angelic weapon into dust, and in that moment he realized it was over. He had lost.
His output didn’t allow him to let out the desperate shout that was building inside him at that moment.
His screen, however, glitched in desperation. Static images filled it, but the face that flickered between them looked utterly defeated. Never would he have thought he would lose. He was good, he was smart, and a fucking strong Overlord. But he felt nothing like that anymore.
So he chose to stay on the static instead of showing his vulnerable face in that moment. He thought Val and Vel would come pick him up immediately and he could fix this. Yes, he would find some way, and they would figure something out—he desperately clung to that thought.
You’re always clinging to others. You can’t do anything on your own.
That’s what Alastor had always said. And he was right…
…No.
No, it would get better. Soon he would get his body back, and then he would climb back to the top again. He was already calculating. The fact that he was alive was a good thing. He could try again, be in control. Yes, there would be some consequences here and there, some trust issues, but…
He. would. be. back.
The static stopped, and he could see the battlefield again. Most of them were still staring at the sky. Happy noises came from the people still standing in a circle. The other Overlords—Pritch, Hatched, and Zeezi—were the first to awkwardly leave, promising to never speak about this again.
His eyes searched for his partners.
There they were. Standing off to the side, of course, trying not to interfere with the happiness of the others. Naturally, the Vees were just trying to save their own asses, probably relieved to still be alive and needing a moment.
Vel was snickering about something to Valentino, which made Vox frown as they seemed to be discussing something. An uncomfortable thought crept into his mind.
What if they didn’t want him back?
He was just a head, unable to defend himself. Fear spiked through him. They weren’t talking about that… were they?
No, no. He was their partner after all. One of the powerful Vees. Surely they would take him with them. But nothing happened for far too long. His eyes stayed fixed on them as their discussion became more heated. He couldn’t hear them from where he was.
He asked himself if Valentino had had enough of him. Or Velvette. Which one of them wanted to get rid of him?
He couldn’t even really blame them if he looked at it from the outside. He had actually tried to kill them along with everyone else.
Couldn’t they just talk this out back at the Vee Tower? He was a good talker. He could get himself out of this mess. He just needed a chance.
They take him with them when they tried to fled earlier, so why hesitate now?
Maybe it wasn’t that long, but for Vox it felt like time was slowing down. He was so focused on the others’ actions that he almost didn’t notice the figure stepping in front of him.
Not until the person spoke in a familiar way.
Only then did Vox lift his gaze.
“What a pitiful sight, don’t you think, old pal?”
The Radio Demon—Alastor himself—stood before him.
Vox tried not to react, even though he would have gladly jumped down Alastor’s throat. The fucking prick was the cause of his downfall, after all. An angry expression formed on Vox’s screen, but he didn’t want to give Alastor the satisfaction of seeing him throw a pitiful tantrum in this state.
He tried to ignore him.
Not for the first time in his life, he failed miserably as the taller demon kept talking.
“You’re nothing now, Vincent.”
The Radio Demon had a talent for provoking him, belittling him by using his old name—from when they had been close. Vox regretted to this day ever giving Alastor his real name. Every time the other used it, it reminded him of his vulnerable, naive side—the one that had clung to Alastor and valued him more than himself.
The time when he had a crush on the Radio Demon.
He hated all of it now, and his screen twisted into a clear frown of discomfort.
“Ah, not much of a talker at the moment, I see. You love to talk all the time, so why keep your mouth shut now? Is it because you’re waiting for your little friends to pick you up?” Alastor pointed at them with his staff. “They’re thinking about you, Vincent. Discussing what to do with a useless picture box like you. Maybe they’ll leave you here.”
A pleased radio-static chuckle came from the demon as he loomed over the television.
“It suits you, having some random demons take over your stage. I’m excited to see what they’ll do with you. Just breaking the screen? Boring. I hope they tear you apart, little by little—ripping your cords out of your dumb frame. That would be delightful.”
Vox tried not to imagine it, but Alastor didn’t stop.
“But who knows. Maybe they’ll repair you and turn you into a little plaything. Hanging you on a wall as a trophy would be fitting.”
Irritated glitches rippled across Vox’s screen. The implications fed his deepest fears. Would he become someone’s toy?
No. Alastor was just trying to make him more miserable.
He had already done this before—when Vox had held him prisoner—constantly telling him he was nothing without others, belittling his colleagues, feeding his ego so he could be the one man at the top.
And it had led to his break.
To his failure.
He would rather have died in the weapon’s explosion than live with this.
“Fuck you, Alastor. They won’t leave me behind,” Vox snapped, even though he knew he wasn’t threatening like this. But he needed to say it, maybe more to reassure himself. Gave himself the hope with it, but it didn’t work so much as he has hoped.
“Sweet indeed. I always admired that little fantasy of yours.”
“What are you trying to say?” Vox demanded, pride still aching as he stared up at him.
“That you have friends, little Vince.”
The grin Alastor wore was more unnerving than usual, his radio static screeching into Vox’s inputs.
Vox just stared. Something inside him cracked further.
He needed to get away from this man—but it was useless. He could move a little, but it would be pathetic. And he was still too proud to show that in front of the demon who already thought him weak.
At least he would have backed away if he could.
Sharp claws traced his frame, holding him in place. Alastor crouched before him.
“I think I’ve had enough of you. Trying to overcome me. Trying to be better than me. That needs to stop.”
Vox glanced toward the Vee’s again, hoping—desperately—that they would see him. Help him. Do something.
His gaze snapped back to Alastor’s grin.
Green stitches stretched the smile past the eyes. The antlers grew slightly.
“What are you planning?” Vox heard himself ask.
His voice didn’t sound like the proud Overlord he was.
It sounded afraid.
And he was...for this moment...in his current form.
Alastor could kill him. Torture him. Mock him in front of all of Hell—just like Vox had done to him once.
He knew it wasn’t Alastor’s usual style to kill quickly. He liked it slow and painful. Mostly for his radio broadcast and Vox didn’t wanted to be part of it!
Alastor had killed some Overlords before. Strong ones.
Unlike Vox now.
He had almost nothing to defend himself with. Light glitches flickered across his screen every few seconds. Being separated from his body was… unusual. Painful. Not as bad as it would be for others, but all his power was inaccessible.
And that terrified him.
Hell wasn’t a place for the powerless.
Vox knew that.
“I think it would only be fair if I repaid you for the stunts you pulled when I was at your mercy,” Alastor said pleasantly. “But don’t worry—my style isn’t as flashy as your parades and little pitiful 'dates' you dragged me into. No, I prefer subtler methods. Much more fun. For me.”
Vox was lifted, long claws digging painfully into his frame as Alastor tucked him to his side.
Panic surged.
There had to be something he could do.
He could shout for the Vees. Surely they wouldn’t let one of their own be taken by their enemy. Their reputation alone—
Why wasn’t anyone looking at him?!
As humiliating as it would be, he decided it was better than letting Alastor win.
“Ah, ah. None of that,” Alastor interrupted calmly. “I can hear those little thoughts rattling around. I didn’t know you’d sunk so low as to cry for your partners… I do recall there being something to turn you off.”
Vox froze.
He was held up, face to face, before being flipped so his screen faced the ground. Alastor’s gaze traced the buttons on his back.
“DON’T YOU DARE!” Vox shouted, struggling in the grip. Being handled like a toy—especially like this—was not something he was used to.
“Ah. There it is.”
“STO—”
…
Then there was nothing.
Vox’s screen went black.
Why… why did he have that damn button?
He had tried to remove it once. But without it, he couldn’t sleep. Something was missing. He couldn’t let go of it.
So he reinstalled it.
A cruel necessity.
He made sure almost no one knew about it.
Almost.
Valentino didn’t know, even if he liked to toy with Vox’s ports when they slept together. Vox didn’t liked it. First he was sensitive there, second he was always a bit worried Val would found out and use that knowledge to his disadvantage.
But Alastor knew.
Because Vox had been naive when they were close.
He had tried to impress the stupid deer in the beginning, who had been curious about how he worked. Vox had shown off. Had talked too much.
And in one stupid, awkward moment, he had mentioned the button.
He had laughed it off afterward, realizing how dangerous it was—joking that he’d made it up in case Alastor ever tried to “shut him up.”
Alastor had always told him he talked too much.
And Vox had been naive enough to think he’d forgotten.
But Alastor remembered.