Chapter Text
In the nature of hell, no day is supposed to be particularly good. The sun will not be shining, the birds will not be chirping, nor will the grass be green. But for Alastor, the screaming of souls and bleak landscape of hell brought him just as much joy. Except today.
Today was not a good day for Alastor at all. It started with him spilling coffee over his jacket and ended with him being run over. But we’ll start in the middle of his day, when he was about to dine on some fresh venison he’d gotten from the farmer’s market.
That sleazy butcher gave him meat with silver skin – what a disgrace. Alastor groaned and threw the whole steak at the wall, staining his wallpaper with blood. He didn’t really care, however, and decided to take a stroll in cannibal town to take his mind off things.
On his way, he passed a street where televisions were displayed in the windows.
“Jackets, coats, accessories and everything more at Hellish Clothing! Trust us…with your fashion sense!” The man on the black and white television – ironically a television himself – said, bringing a hypnotic eye up to the screen, every sinner standing in the street drawn to his glare.
Alastor hummed, not paying any attention to the hypnosis and simply went on his merry way – his spare shirt clinging a little too tight to his body.
“Alastor!” The cannibal girls exclaimed upon seeing their favorite radio show host sauntering into Cannibal Town.
“Girls! How lovely to see you! Doing well, ladies?” Alastor asked, the signature smile never leaving his face.
“Oh yes we are!” They chorused, in the middle of sharing the bones of a decomposing carcass between each other.
“Lovely,” Alastor beamed and continued humming as he walked along.
Upon walking inside Franklin and Rosie’s Emporium, a bell rang over Alastor’s head.
“I’m done arguing, dear!” Rosie exclaimed, turning her back to her business partner, whom she had a very complicated relationship with. Alastor chose not to get involved with it at all.
“You can be a really stingy bitch, Rosie!” Franklin exclaimed in her raspy smoked out voice, folding her arms over her chest.
“Don’t you dare–” Rosie started to get angry, turning back around, noticing Alastor standing by the doorway, “Alastor!”
“Oh great, he’s here,” Franklin complained, walking behind the counter as Rosie ran towards him, kissing his cheeks.
“Don’t be rude, Lin, say hello to Alastor,” Rosie reprimanded, standing next to Alastor protectively.
“It’s alright, my dear, I’m not going to take much of your time,” Alastor assured, placing a hand on Rosie’s arm.
“Such a gentleman! You could learn a thing or two, Franklin,” Rosie remarked cheekily, Franklin just scoffed at her.
“I’d like to purchase some neck meat off of you,” Alastor expressed, deciding to go for a delicacy since he was having such a horrid day.
“Purchase?! No, no, no, dear, I don’t want to hear that nonsense! Anything you like, Alastor, you receive for free!” Rosie exclaimed, rushing to her supply.
“That is not how we run a business, Ro,” Franklin said, rolling her eyes.
“It’s Alastor!” Rosie retorted and Alastor chuckled softly under his breath. Rosie wrapped up the meat and handed it to Alastor.
“Many thanks, Rosie,” Alastor said, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her hand.
“It’s no problem at all! You must come around more often, I haven’t seen you in forever!” Rosie beamed, pulling him into a hug.
Laughing, Alastor remarked, “It hasn’t even been a week, my dear.”
“And I must see your lively presence here more often!” Rosie exclaimed, leaning in closer and putting a hand to the side of her mouth to whisper, “Franklin’s been driving me crazy.”
“I can hear you, you know,” Franklin remarked, arms folded and eyes narrowed at Alastor, who paid her no mind.
“Alright, well, I’ll be on my way then! I hope things work out for both of you and don't end in an overlord duel! Ha-ha!” Alastor chuckled, but neither Franklin nor Rosie found this particularly funny, giving each other nervous glances.
“I'll see you soon, Alastor!” Rosie smiled, waving him off.
“Bye-bye!” Alastor replied, waving back and leaving the store, the bell jingling above him.
Now, things seemed to be looking up for Alastor, he went to the liquor store to grab a bottle of whiskey and enjoyed a pleasant meal at home, listened to some jazz, and decided to go for an evening stroll around the neighborhood.
The problem was that after a whole bottle of whiskey and an extraordinary cut of neck, Alastor wasn’t in the right state of mind to be looking after himself. He never usually faced any problems strolling in the evening after becoming an overlord — no one bothered him, in fact, he was usually the bother to other overlords who may have felt safe walking alone at night.
And up until this point, Alastor didn’t consider his deer anatomy a weakness. Naturally, he disliked it and was inconvenienced by the fact that he had the visual color spectrum of a deer. Alastor could not even see the color red — though Rosie insisted he suited it very well.
Alastor suited red when he was alive and stuck with it but he’d always loved the color blue. Any shade of the color always struck a chord with Alastor, whether he was transported to his childhood spending time in the swamps of Louisiana, or remembering looking up at the sky and seeing blue instead of red. Hell was so incredibly red and therefore grayish brown to Alastor.
Consequently, when Alastor was crossing the road and he caught sight of a gorgeous cyan car (modern at the time, retro now) with the brightest headlights Alastor had ever seen — he froze in place.
His mind screamed at him to move but when the rest of the world was yellow, as well as black, gray and white just like the television was when he was alive, Alastor was captivated by the sight of the prettiest cyan he’d seen in a very long time.
Alastor didn’t even realize he was quite literally a deer in headlights, he was just so enamored with the vehicle that he ignored the multiple honks from the driver and in a matter of seconds, the beautiful car slammed into Alastor, throwing him a few feet backwards before finally coming to a stop.
Vision blurred, Alastor tried to get up and not make a fool of himself but the whiskey made it hard for him to use his powers. Alastor’s ears twitched when the car door slammed and a man stepped out, rushing towards Alastor.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He exclaimed before kneeling down and lifting Alastor’s head, making the deer look him in the eyes.
Oh, wow. It was the man on the TV. But he was not in black and white as Alastor had seen him; he was dressed in the most gorgeous blues and one of his eyes glowed cyan, like his car. After Alastor stopped fawning over the blue television, he immediately thought the man was a pretentious prick — just like Alastor himself.
A cyan car to match his cyan eye, navy blazer to match his TV screen and a black tophat to match his black box exterior? Who did this guy think he was? Alastor finally understood how sick people must have felt while looking at Alastor’s outfit.
“Are you okay?” The TV Man asked, clicking his bright turquoise fingers in front of Alastor’s face.
“Yes!” Alastor replied immediately, “Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure!” he exclaimed, clearing his throat, scrambling out of the TV man’s arms and shakily standing using his microphone to help him, reaching his hand out for the man to shake.
The TV demon hesitated for a second, slowly standing up as well — he was the same height as Alastor which both angered Alastor and made him respect this man even more. Because seriously, who did this guy think he was?
“Vox,” The TV responded calmly, shaking Alastor’s hand, “Is this a hobby of yours, getting hit by people’s cars?”
“Ha! Not really. You see, I’ve not encountered such a brightly colored machine in a very long time and I was just admiring it, don’t you worry, no harm done!” Alastor explained, trying not to sound too impressed. He noticed a few scratches on the hood of the car and made a mental note to fix them as soon as Vox got back into his car.
A small smirk appeared on Vox’s screen, “Deer in headlights, huh?” he grinned and Alastor immediately narrowed his eyes.
It was an embarrassing situation to be in, for sure, and the fact that Alastor couldn’t take his eyes off of Vox’s stylish, pretentious navy jacket wasn’t helping.
“Well, you know how it is!” Alastor chuckled back, spinning his microphone in his hand before leaning on it, “Say, where’d you get such a sweet ride?”
“Oh, it’s custom made,” Vox replied coolly, mirroring Alastor’s position by leaning on his car, dusting off a few scratches that Alastor’s antlers left on the car. He fixed them as quickly as Alastor could have without even mentioning it, which was unlike any other sinner Alastor encountered. All sinners loved to make a fuss. Alastor had always hated that about hell, all the people slowly turned into the same sinner.
The ones who didn’t, Alastor collected like baseball cards, making sure to keep them close in his collection, so to speak.
“Interesting! I, unfortunately, cannot drive,” Alastor grinned, tossing his microphone from one hand to the other and trying to check for any damage to his clothing when he noticed the elbow of his overcoat was completely ripped, and luckily it was his spare shirt but it was still upsetting. “Oh, bother!” Alastor exclaimed.
“You’re bleeding there, deer,” Vox remarked, still smirking. “Need a lift to your place?”
“That would be…kind, thank you,” Alastor replied, not expecting that. It was an unexpectedly good thing for a sinner to do. Especially for someone like the Radio Demon himself.
“Hop on in, then,” Vox nodded, walking over to open the passenger seat for Alastor, who graciously took it. And the car was just as sleek on the inside, leather seats with a beautiful smooth finish to the details, which were white and dark blue.
“Where to?” Vox asked upon sitting down in the driver’s seat.
“Not far, Satan’s Dick Street,” Alastor said, pointing vaguely to the direction of his apartment. Vox snorted, shaking his head. “What? Don’t be immature, Mr Vox.”
“I apologize, Mr Alastor,” Vox grinned, putting his eyes on the road and starting the car, continuing to drive forward, “If I may ask…do you happen to be the Radio Demon?”
“Why, yes, I do!” Alastor grinned which prompted Vox to hit his picture box with the palm of his clawed hand.
“I knew it!” Vox exclaimed, throwing his hand up. “I wasn’t sure if it was really you but trust me, Mr Alastor, I’ve been a big fan of yours since I was alive.” His eyes kept landing on Alastor, more than they were on the road.
“Is that so?” Alastor asked, quirking an eyebrow.
“Oh yes, I was always interested in the morbid. When it all came out about your crimes I spent years trying to collect any records of your radio show. Unfortunately I was too young to have listened to you in your hay day – but it was always a dream of mine to meet you, of course, I was convinced I never would, but here I am!” Vox started explaining, Alastor looked him up and down a little, noting that Vox didn’t take a single pause in his explanation nor did he show any kind of insecurity in his speech, as if he was speaking for television.
Alastor would often tell his colleagues and apprentices to never leave dead air, and Vox didn’t even leave a second for breathing. But Alastor wasn’t bored or uninterested in what Vox was saying, because he was very clear and to the point. Alastor instantly found a liking for the television.
“When I died and started hearing about your radio broadcasts, I was so happy I’d gotten a ticket to hell!” Vox chuckled and Alastor joined him. “My, it really is a pleasure to meet you. Albeit, it’s not how I imagined it.”
“No, no, my fans tend not to run me over!” Alastor added with a slightly hysterical cackle – which seemed to entertain the TV host, who started laughing. But not his polite, practiced chuckle; a real laugh that made his pixelated eyes scrunch up, his smile wide, showing off his cyan teeth.
“I’ve spent hours in my bedroom imagining interviewing you,” Vox remarked offhandedly with a slight grin, eyes on the road before he seemed to blush and he looked back at Alastor with slightly widened eyes. “Not like…not like that,” He chuckled.
“Like what?” Alastor asked, genuinely a little confused. He was enjoying getting his ego stroked by this young man who was clearly a big fan of him – nothing sexual about it. In fact, Alastor hadn’t been particularly exposed to sexuality, Rosie even made a point of not speaking to him about it.
When Alastor was young, his mother was alone and being a strange child, Alastor didn’t have many friends. For Alastor, it was the norm to not be attracted to anyone and anyone who was in a relationship was simply going through a phase. He didn’t think about what happened behind closed doors, either. To him, babies were made through a process similar to cooking or cleaning – a mundane task.
“Nothing, Mr Alastor. Oh, boy, I’m not usually this nervous,” Vox chuckled, looking at Alastor as a soft whirring started emitting from him, clearly some kind of cooling system since Alastor could feel the heat radiating off of him.
“Don’t be nervous, Mr Vox. Unless you’re scared I’ll eat you,” Alastor joked, grinning widely and only making Vox giggle.
He looked simply delicious.
Any sick pervert may think Alastor wanted to have intercourse with Vox or was finally fixed from his lack of sexual attraction all thanks to Vox’s beautiful cyan eyes and teeth but anyone who knew Alastor a little better would understand that all he wanted to do was sink his teeth into that long neck and taste the blood rushing through Vox’s strange looking mechanical body.
But Alastor had a moral code and didn’t kill on a whim with no provocation, especially not a man who was so adoring of him.
“Is this it?” Vox asked with a small smile, turning his head a bit to look through the windshield.
“Oh, yes. Thank you so much,” Alastor smiled back but didn’t get out of the car.
They made eye contact. They kept looking at each other, for different reasons. Alastor wasn’t ready to go back to his gray apartment and Vox was completely mesmerized, overjoyed to meet his idol.
“Would you–”
“Could I–”
They both started at the same time and started chuckling. Alastor tapped his fingers on his microphone as Vox questioned, “What were you going to say?”
“Why, I was just wondering if you’d like a cup of tea,” Alastor remarked, unusually bashful, looking out the window.
Vox lit up – literally. His screen started glowing so bright that Alastor turned around to look at him. He took a deep breath before reeling himself back in, lowering his brightness and putting on a grin. This was a man for Alastor’s taste.
“Mr Alastor, this is how half of your murder cases start,” Vox remarked, which prompted Alastor to cackle along to a laugh track, waving his hand in the air.
“Oh, you humor me, dear!” Alastor exclaimed, “If I wanted to murder you…” The car interior went dark and green symbols lit up around Alastor’s head, his eyes going black and his teeth getting sharper, “I would have done so already.”
Unlike any other sinner, who was scared of Alastor even if they didn’t show it, Vox stared at Alastor in complete awe. His eyes were wide and his lips were slightly parted, watching Alastor as if he was hypnotized.
Then, Alastor snapped back to normal, grinning wider than usual. “So…tea?”
“Yes, please,” Vox croaked, looking positively obsessed.
They left the car, Alastor still feeling a little shaky from both the alcohol and getting hit. He used his microphone as a cane as his heels clicked on the stairs to his apartment complex, Vox’s following close behind. Humming a little tune, Alastor let Vox inside and led him to the ancient, golden elevator.
Standing side by side, Alastor could feel Vox’s glances towards him. When Alastor turned to make eye contact, Vox quickly turned and pretended he was never looking, which made Alastor chuckle under his breath.
They walked out into a long, eerie hallway that Alastor called home, unlocking his apartment only to find it trashed from his earlier distress.
“Oh, what a mess! I do apologize, I was not expecting guests,” Alastor remarked, walking over to the fireplace.
He reached into the fire, which made Vox raise an eyebrow, and pulled out his little helper, Niffty. “Mr Vox, I’d like you to meet Niffty, she’ll do a little cleaning while we get settled. Isn’t that right, Niffty?”
Niffty dusted herself off and jumped out of Alastor’s hand, beaming up at Vox. “Of course! So nice to finally meet a man, Alastor doesn’t have any man friends!”
“Now, now, Niffty,” Alastor scolded playfully, she giggled and ran off to clean up the venison.
Vox watched as she dashed around the room. He stood at the entrance politely with his hands behind his back – how Alastor loved people with manners.
“Come on in, pal!” Alastor beamed, waving Vox inside with his microphone.
“Is Niffty…an assistant of yours?” Vox questioned curiously, giving Alastor a smile.
With a short laugh, Alastor replied, “No.” And left it at that, not revealing anything personal just yet. “Tea? Or shall I tempt you to some rye?”
“Oh, I shouldn’t. I’m driving. Unless you kill me!” Vox joked, grinning very wide. Alastor giggled a little manically, putting his hand on Vox’s shoulder.
“You are hilarious!” He remarked, which made Vox almost lose his cool.
“If my twenty-year-old self heard that the Radio Demon himself called me hilarious, I would’ve said that’s the greatest achievement of my life,” Vox chuckled, practically buzzing from the compliment.
“Well I’m flattered. Let me make you some herbal tea. Make yourself at home!” Alastor said, patting Vox’s shoulder and going to the kitchen to put the kettle on the stove, humming a little tune.
Upon his return with two teas in hand, he saw Vox on the couch, happily conversing with Niffty. Now, Alastor didn’t introduce all of his acquaintances to Niffty, but those who he did never interacted with her in such a pleasant way.
“My, a bug collection? That’s wonderful, dear. I have a few different collections myself,” Vox smiled softly.
“Oh, that’s great,” Niffty beamed, “I like him, Alastor,” She grinned before running off to hunt some more bugs.
“Wonderful,” Alastor said, handing Vox the tea and sitting down next to him. “It’s a little too quiet, don’t you think?” He remarked before snapping his fingers, making soft jazz play though his gramophone.
“Tell me, Mr Alastor, how does such a powerful overlord live in such a humble apartment?” Vox asked, leaning back and sipping on his tea.
Alastor smiled wider, acting humble, “You know how it is in a creative field. I don’t accept sponsorships, nor do I oblige my listeners to give me money. Everything I own is gifted to me,” He explained and Vox raised his eyebrows.
“I could pull some strings at The Company, we’d be glad to sponsor you–”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary, dear,” Alastor shook his head and raised a hand, to which Vox chuckled politely but dejectedly.
“So it’s an ethical issue for you?” Vox questioned, resting his arm on the back of the couch and leaning his boxy head on his palm.
“I suppose so. Though my ethics are not ordinary,” Alastor grinned, looking at Vox through half-lidded, half-drunk eyes.
“To each their own. My ethics got me murdered,” Vox remarked with a smile, though his tone was a little strained.
Oh, Alastor offhandedly wished he’d been the one to murder Vox instead of whoever did. Perhaps then Vox would be fondly recalling the memory instead of sitting there with a pained expression.
“What do you stand for, Mr Vox?” Alastor asked.
“My, you ask bold questions. And I’m still sober,” Vox teased, a grin spreading over his entire screen.
“Would you prefer me to get you canned first, sweetheart?” Alastor smirked back and Vox chuckled nervously.
He hesitated before answering, “I stand against authority. When I was alive, mostly the police. Now, I stand against the overlords you so graciously kill.”
“And yet I’m an overlord you admire, what’s with the hypocrisy? If all coppers are bastards, why not all overlords?” Alastor posed and Vox looked very intrigued.
“Cops all worked for one system. Overlords work alone. That’s why I’m planning to become one. Rid hell of the bad ones,” Vox explained, waving his clawed hand around a bit. Oh, how cyan and bright his claws were. “Up there, I was an activist. Fought against oppression, threw rocks at the cops. Some didn’t like that. Shot me on national television.”
“Hence the head?” Alastor beamed, raising his eyebrows. Vox laughed bitterly and nodded.
“Hence the head,” Vox agreed. “And what about yourself, Mr Alastor? What do you stand for?”
“Entertainment,” Alastor replied easily, waving a hand, “Suffering is only acceptable when it’s entertaining.”
“Where does one draw that line?” Vox questioned, drawing a line with his claw on the back of the couch and he seemed to lean closer to Alastor, who remained sitting with his back straight.
“Where does one draw any line, Mr Vox?” Alastor shrugged, sipping on his tea.
With a dark expression of hunger, Vox glared at Alastor: head slightly tilted down, toothy grin over his monitor.
“Touchè,” Vox murmured, sliding his hand slowly over the back of the couch, behind Alastor, who glanced down at Vox’s hand before looking back at him.
“You’re not afraid of me, are you, Mr Vox?” Alastor remarked, “You’d do anything for your idol. Even risk being murdered.”
Vox’s eyes narrowed as he laughed, “Does this mean you’ll murder me now?”
“Your death would be no fun,” Alastor remarked, dragging a finger down Vox’s screen, making him blush – albeit Alastor could not tell.
“Then tell me what would be fun, I’ll do it,” Vox whispered, he looked downright desperate. Slightly pathetic, a little too pathetic for Alastor’s liking but beggars cannot be choosers.
Any rational person would assume Alastor would solicit some sexual act – any rational person being Vox, who hadn’t been getting much action since cheating on his girlfriend at The Company. Who was not a rational person, however, was Alastor, who’d been having much darker, much more sinful thoughts.
What’s more sinful: lust or cannibalism?
“Let me taste you,” Alastor whispered, his voice dark and silky smooth. Of course, Vox interpreted this very wrong and raised his eyebrows.
“Oh, well,” Vox said, acting coy, “If you insist–”
Vox barely managed to get the words out before Alastor leaned forward and sunk his teeth into the side of Vox’s neck – which made Vox hiss and grab onto the back of Alastor’s head.
Metallic tasting blood spilled into Alastor’s mouth, his tongue darting over the bite mark and sucking into Vox’s torn flesh, which must have been extremely painful. Now, blood was usually irony, but Vox’s was especially so, his blood having an electrical zing to it that made Alastor’s tongue itch, similar to eating pineapple – just as sweet and sour, too.
But before Vox started screaming, he laughed, “I must say, I should’ve known this was what you meant by tasting me.”
“What else would you assume?” Alastor grinned, looking up at Vox as he let some blood flow onto his fingers, licking them off afterwards.
“Nothing, n-nothing, Mr Alastor,” Vox chuckled breathlessly, wincing slightly, “Bad time to say I get a little queasy at the sight of blood?”
“Not at all, why don’t you close your eyes, have a taste?” Alastor grinned and Vox raised his eyebrows.
“S-sure,” He nodded hastily, closing his eyes and opening his mouth, Alastor placed his finger on Vox’s tongue and slowly dragged it down to wipe all of the blood on it. Vox tasted it and opened his eyes, looking at Alastor’s crimson colored lips. “That sure tastes like blood,” Vox remarked.
“Oh, it’s unlike anything I’ve tasted before. A real delicacy, Mr Vox,” Alastor murmured and leaned back down to suck the blood from Vox’s neck.
Vox chuckled breathlessly, “No one in this position usually calls me Mr Vox.”
“No?” Alastor grinned, looking up at Vox as his fingers tightened on Vox’s screen, “What do they usually call you?”
“Oh, it’s a variety of things,” Vox whispered, “Baby, sweetie, sugar–”
“No dead air on your watch, right, Vox?” Alastor beamed, actually quite impressed with how Vox could keep talking and talking.
Vox chuckled, “Right.” He lifted a hand up to his neck, probably to check the damage but Alastor grabbed his wrist, pinning it to the back of the couch and climbing over him. Downright astonished, Vox allowed Alastor to straddle him and kept his hands away.
“Allow me,” Alastor muttered, leaning in and gently beginning to lick and suck.
“Oh, Alastor,” Vox whispered, letting his head rest on the backrest and giving Alastor more space on his neck. Alastor made small nips and couldn’t help but tear off a little flesh, which made Vox jump and moan softly.
Now, despite being a prolific cannibal for half a century now, Alastor had not had such an encounter where not only did the person he was eating derive such pleasure from the experience, but so did he. Of course there were the occasional freaks who thought they were in for a treat before realizing Alastor was going to murder them – they’d quickly start screaming after that.
But Alastor didn’t kill for the person, no, he did it for the craft. He liked inflicting pain on those who deserved it but it was never them who he liked. It was the blood, the flesh, the pain. Never the human behind the skin.
“Alastor,” Vox’s soft whisper snapped the demon out of his thoughts and made him look up with a bloody grin. “You look great with my blood on your lips.”
“Good,” Alastor replied, reaching up to the top of Vox’s head and pulling on one of the antennas sticking out of his tophat.
Vox glitched and moaned. “Those are sensitive!” He complained and Alastor laughed since he sounded like an annoyed toddler.
“Well, I’m sorry,” Alastor chuckled, pulling on one again, making Vox glitch once more.
“Oh, you’re ruining me,” Vox murmured, sinking into the couch and slipping his hands down to rest on Alastor’s waist. The deer smacked Vox’s hands away.
“Let me patch you up and I suppose you’d better get going, hmm?” Alastor asked, looming over Vox ominously.
“Kicking me out so soon?” Vox asked, his eyes droopy and his voice a little glitchy.
“Oh, trust me, my dear, I’ll be seeing a lot of you very soon,” Alastor grinned darkly.
He did end up seeing a lot of Vox, nearly every single day, whether it was just for a walk, or for a coffee at a cafè, a drink at the bar with a night of dancing, or dancing in Alastor’s apartment late at night. They became best friends – truly made for one another.