Alastor had been struggling but masking it well. Thirty minutes of rest had done wonders in the short-term, but he couldn't keep it going forever. At least on set there was coffee.
All of the booze at the party was sure to knock him out flat after humiliating Vox.
As they stepped to the side, Alastor waited. Vox had been absolutely furious when he saw Alastor walk up. As tempting as it was, he didn't fall to his knees in front of his overlord. It'd deny Vox the pleasure of yanking his chain and only making him more angry.
Without any eyes on them, Vox gripped the chain, making it appear - but didn't yank, not yet. He's FURIOUS. He can't cause a scene. He wants to punch a hole in the wall.
"We are going to have a long conversation about work expectations and scheduling. I'm taking over your scheduling again, you clearly can't be trusted with it."
He stiffened to keep the shaking to a minimal. Vox was going to have his head on a platter. He hadn't seen Vox this angry directed at him in quite some time.
Had he been taking too many of the good roles that were meant for someone else as Alastor was to be phased out? VoxTek was always on the forefront of innovation. Vox had upgraded himself which helped reinforce that even if it wasn't the original intention.
Sooner or later, Vox was going to have someone else in his wake while Alastor would be sent to Valentino.
"You are going to explain yourself when we get the privacy to talk. So get your thoughts in order. Only fifteen minutes left," Vox warned, letting go of the chain and letting it disappear again. Fifteen minutes before things end and Vox can leave his employees to close out the venue.
Without a further word, Vox turned and returned to the party room to finish things out.
The fifteen minutes comes and goes, Vox bids a personal farewell to the Overlords and other high-ranking guests before taking his leave. With Alastor perfectly a step behind him, Vox marched further and further away from the venue. Vox's arms were folded behind his back, and the chain manifested in his hands even as they went further and further from where anyone would catch sight or sound of the impending scene.
Alastor followed. Even without the chain manifesting, he would've followed Vox anywhere.
That didn't mean the sight of it didn't fill him with dread.
Still, Vox had made him perfect. These little instructional sessions would only further refine that perfection into whatever it was the Media Overlord needed from him in the future. The fact Vox was taking his time to do this was a blessing in and of itself.
Or it could be that he was about to get completely beaten down into his base components for his disobedience. Then, after Zeezi had gotten what she wanted, it'd be off to Valentino's porn factory.
Once he found a suitable room far and away from anyone and anything else, Vox entered it, not bothering to turn on the lights. With a heavy click of the door closing behind Alastor, Vox yanked on the electric blue chain to force his contractee to heel.
Alastor was yanked to the ground, his knees striking solidly against the floor.
He bowed his head, not bothering to get up. In a twisted sort of way, it reminded him of kneeling in church as he prayed to God for mercy on those people who'd been friends and family of his victims that had had no idea of their loved one's dark deeds.
It made sense. After all, down here, Vox was his god.
"Keep up? With what, that 'Starblaine' guy? Do you think I give a shit about that?" Vox laughed, though it was strained and angry. "Or do you mean with me? My schedule isn't FUCKED like yours was! I fucking SLEEP. What was that supposed to accomplish? No wonder a little bump got you so fucked up!"
"With you, sir." He made eye contact with nothing but the floor. "I can't be upgraded."
He was so limited while Vox...Vox could be so much more. Look at what he'd already started accomplishing with that new flatscreen of his! He was so interconnected with his network that his productivity had jumped significantly.
Alastor was an old radio that was existing in his grace on borrowed time. He'd learned new tricks with FM, XM, and other bands of satellite radio, but he was ultimately limited.
Sooner or later, Vox would want something shiny and new beside him. Someone that could keep up the hectic pace.
The audio distortion from Vox only amplified, and the electricity dancing between them lit the room but casted harsh, pitch black shadows. There was so much wrong with those two simple sentences that Vox wasn't even sure where to start.
"You don't n̷͓̅ė̸̫e̶̦̾d̴̛͖ to upgrade. You-- you are the base element-- l̶̛̰̩͇͖͛̍͊̐̾̍͘ơ̸̯͈͖̬̪͙̐̈́͗͌o̶̩̥̓͌͌̿͑͗̀k̸̳͊͝ ̵͈̺͚̯̲̟͔̅̈̊̌͛͌̀͌͌a̶̢͓̪͒͂ṯ̵̬̯̫̙̒͆̔̄̾͘͘͝͠ ̸̪̭͓̲̠͇̞̙̈́́m̴̨̧̧̟͈̦͓͈̳̊́̀̈́̍̈́͝e̸͎͌̆̕͠. YOU are the radio waves, that which makes all wireless communication possible. You are the platform on which everything else is b̵̧̌ǔ̵̼i̸͎̕l̵̥̈́ť̴̖."
Vox's claws screeched as they pulled tighter on the chains.
"You don't need to upgrade. You need to keep growing. Grow your signal bigger, stronger-- and right now, your signal is WEAK. Because you're running yourself into the ground! Unacceptable. Have I not treated you well this whole time? Have I not shown you just how precious you are to me? And then you turn around and do this to yourself?"
The pull of the chain jerked Alastor's head up. He coughed involuntarily as he was momentarily choked.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he pleaded. "You've treated me so well! I just wanted to make all your hard work worth it! I didn't want you to throw me away!"
His signal briefly flashed with a memory of going to the garbage where Vox's old head had been, retrieving it, and putting it in a place of honor in his room. Carefully cleaning it as if it were an idol on an altar. Cracked and irreparable as it was, it was irreplaceable to Alastor. Both a coveted keepsake and an important reminder:
It was there that the signal hit his receivers, and a wave of revulsion hit him. His old head. His horrible, ugly old head, it triggers the forever associated memory of the last thing he saw when he was alive, which was one of those fucking things about to crush his skull.
Fuck.
Vox dropped the chain entirely, throwing them both into darkness save for the faint glow of Vox's screen. Fuck... he wanted to vomit. But at the same time, his heart was hammering with... happiness? Flattery? Love? At realizing that he was so precious to Alastor. That he would keep something close, clean it so lovingly, keep it for nostalgia. For devotion.
"...I am not. Going to throw you away. I will die before you're ever leaving me."
He could feel that wave of revulsion from Vox though he had no idea what the source was.
He wanted to comfort his overlord but remained rooted to the spot. The tangled mess of his thoughts and feelings reflected his exhaustion and his eagerness to please Vox. Not entirely out of fear though there was plenty of that.
Ugh... the mixed feelings about Alastor keeping the old head...
"...If you keep the old head, just-- keep it out of my sight. Damn thing makes me feel sick to look at. But. I am not throwing you away. I am never throwing you away."
Taking a breath to restabilize himself, he turned around again, leaning down and grabbing Alastor's arms, pulling him to his feet. "We're going home and you're taking the week off. Catch up on rest. Treat yourself like the treasure that you are."
Alastor rose to his feet and leaned into Vox, closing his eyes as his signal calmed down at Vox's presence. In the back of his head, he was already thinking about where to put the old head so Vox wouldn't accidentally stumble upon it while still treating it with respect.
Perhaps he could turn it into something that would show respect while making it something beautiful. Then if Vox chose to see it, he'd see it and by extension himself the way Alastor's saw him. Perhaps a planter? Or maybe a fish tank with a little pet shark? Vox would probably like that.
Vox relaxed with the feeling of Alastor against him, and took the time to wrap his arms around the radio in a hug. He hated seeing Alastor as run down and miserable as he'd been when they first met... it felt like a grotesque failure to not have him thriving, happy and healthy.
The head thing had seriously traumatized Alastor. He would still do it all again, but fucking hell, he did not like how much it was haunting his contractee.
"You're mine. My treasure, my most precious find. I will never stop building you up. I will never toss you aside. You're mine. No one else could ever appreciate you the way I do. No one else can see what I see. You're mine..."
God. He loved Alastor so much. It burned him to think of him working under anyone else. Or surrendering under the blade of an Exorcist. No... this deer belonged here, in his grasp, until they both died.
"I could never be anyone but yours," Alastor told him softly.
His signal was tired, weak, but still hummed with affection. Was it toxic and unhealthy? Absolutely.
Somehow, Alastor never wanted it any other way.
He hugged Vox back, relaxing against him. He felt warm and safe right here with the Media Overlord. Probably not something anyone would have ever anticipated.
Though he'd never admit it, Vox needed the break as well... needed the comfort and restabilizing. He pet at Alastor's hair, mostly to fidget, mostly to keep his hand busy.
After he felt more grounded, he gave Alastor a soft pat on the back.
"We're going home. You're making yourself a meal, eating, and getting sleep."
Alastor was also more relaxed now that the fear had been alleviated. Honestly, he wasn't one for microwave meals, but he was so tired he was almost considering it. Good thing he did meal prep when he could.
"I'll get the valet. Don't scare me like that again, got it?" Vox scolded, though the heat was all completely gone - he'd gotten out his anger and made himself clear, after all. Wrapping his arm around Alastor's shoulder, Vox walked them out.
With all his angry energy expended and relief settling in, it's a quiet ride to Alastor's apartment and a no frills dinner. Vox makes sure Alastor's eating and will join only if it prompts Al to actually settle down - then it's after dinner, and time to usher the deer to bed.
It's times like these that Vox wonders what... exactly their bond really is. No one demanded obedience from someone they loved, right? At least, his parents weren't really that way - they'd had a much better marriage than his sad attempt. He couldn't say either of his parents acted like they were consumed with the thought of one another, though... and that's often where Vox found himself, with Alastor. Preoccupied, consumed, obsessive.
He's lost in thought about that, still sitting in the kitchen and drinking water - he'd had to turn down coffee since he suspected Alastor might've nabbed a cup, and he would've absolutely just had a harder time falling asleep. This wasn't a simple Deal relationship... he owned Alastor's soul, but the trust was freely given most of the time. And other contractees? Vox had no qualms about completely ruining their lives. But Alastor...
To make things a bit easier to go to sleep, Alastor stepped into the shower. The hot water would work wonders to help ease the tension that had been building up. Not to mention soothe away the last of the cocaine's effects.
His understanding of love was warped beyond all belief. Loving someone was painful and obsessive in his experience. It's how he'd loved his mother, seeing her as a saint even as he knew they were doing terrible things because she was doing what she had to to get by with the child she'd been saddled with. He'd felt similarly with his friend Mimzy...
...well, they'd stayed friends up until she realized he wasn't the least bit useful to her down here. Then she'd had his "freeloading ass" hit the road.
As blasphemous as it was to think, Vox wasn't perfect. If he was, he wouldn't be here in Hell. However, Alastor adored him all the same. If that was painful and obsessive, well, that was simply love.
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All of the booze at the party was sure to knock him out flat after humiliating Vox.
As they stepped to the side, Alastor waited. Vox had been absolutely furious when he saw Alastor walk up. As tempting as it was, he didn't fall to his knees in front of his overlord. It'd deny Vox the pleasure of yanking his chain and only making him more angry.
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"We are going to have a long conversation about work expectations and scheduling. I'm taking over your scheduling again, you clearly can't be trusted with it."
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He stiffened to keep the shaking to a minimal. Vox was going to have his head on a platter. He hadn't seen Vox this angry directed at him in quite some time.
Had he been taking too many of the good roles that were meant for someone else as Alastor was to be phased out? VoxTek was always on the forefront of innovation. Vox had upgraded himself which helped reinforce that even if it wasn't the original intention.
Sooner or later, Vox was going to have someone else in his wake while Alastor would be sent to Valentino.
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Without a further word, Vox turned and returned to the party room to finish things out.
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At VoxTek, perfection is our brand. Trust us.
Making a scene at the party would not do the brand any favors. He could manage another fifteen minutes.
He stood silently beside Vox, smiling pleasantly and only speaking when addressed.
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That didn't mean the sight of it didn't fill him with dread.
Still, Vox had made him perfect. These little instructional sessions would only further refine that perfection into whatever it was the Media Overlord needed from him in the future. The fact Vox was taking his time to do this was a blessing in and of itself.
Or it could be that he was about to get completely beaten down into his base components for his disobedience. Then, after Zeezi had gotten what she wanted, it'd be off to Valentino's porn factory.
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"SO! My deer. You have some explaining to do!"
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He bowed his head, not bothering to get up. In a twisted sort of way, it reminded him of kneeling in church as he prayed to God for mercy on those people who'd been friends and family of his victims that had had no idea of their loved one's dark deeds.
It made sense. After all, down here, Vox was his god.
"I needed to keep up."
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He was so limited while Vox...Vox could be so much more. Look at what he'd already started accomplishing with that new flatscreen of his! He was so interconnected with his network that his productivity had jumped significantly.
Alastor was an old radio that was existing in his grace on borrowed time. He'd learned new tricks with FM, XM, and other bands of satellite radio, but he was ultimately limited.
Sooner or later, Vox would want something shiny and new beside him. Someone that could keep up the hectic pace.
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"You don't n̷͓̅ė̸̫e̶̦̾d̴̛͖ to upgrade. You-- you are the base element-- l̶̛̰̩͇͖͛̍͊̐̾̍͘ơ̸̯͈͖̬̪͙̐̈́͗͌o̶̩̥̓͌͌̿͑͗̀k̸̳͊͝ ̵͈̺͚̯̲̟͔̅̈̊̌͛͌̀͌͌a̶̢͓̪͒͂ṯ̵̬̯̫̙̒͆̔̄̾͘͘͝͠ ̸̪̭͓̲̠͇̞̙̈́́m̴̨̧̧̟͈̦͓͈̳̊́̀̈́̍̈́͝e̸͎͌̆̕͠. YOU are the radio waves, that which makes all wireless communication possible. You are the platform on which everything else is b̵̧̌ǔ̵̼i̸͎̕l̵̥̈́ť̴̖."
Vox's claws screeched as they pulled tighter on the chains.
"You don't need to upgrade. You need to keep growing. Grow your signal bigger, stronger-- and right now, your signal is WEAK. Because you're running yourself into the ground! Unacceptable. Have I not treated you well this whole time? Have I not shown you just how precious you are to me? And then you turn around and do this to yourself?"
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"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he pleaded. "You've treated me so well! I just wanted to make all your hard work worth it! I didn't want you to throw me away!"
His signal briefly flashed with a memory of going to the garbage where Vox's old head had been, retrieving it, and putting it in a place of honor in his room. Carefully cleaning it as if it were an idol on an altar. Cracked and irreparable as it was, it was irreplaceable to Alastor. Both a coveted keepsake and an important reminder:
Old technology went in the wastebin.
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It was there that the signal hit his receivers, and a wave of revulsion hit him. His old head. His horrible, ugly old head, it triggers the forever associated memory of the last thing he saw when he was alive, which was one of those fucking things about to crush his skull.
Fuck.
Vox dropped the chain entirely, throwing them both into darkness save for the faint glow of Vox's screen. Fuck... he wanted to vomit. But at the same time, his heart was hammering with... happiness? Flattery? Love? At realizing that he was so precious to Alastor. That he would keep something close, clean it so lovingly, keep it for nostalgia. For devotion.
"...I am not. Going to throw you away. I will die before you're ever leaving me."
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He could feel that wave of revulsion from Vox though he had no idea what the source was.
He wanted to comfort his overlord but remained rooted to the spot. The tangled mess of his thoughts and feelings reflected his exhaustion and his eagerness to please Vox. Not entirely out of fear though there was plenty of that.
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"...If you keep the old head, just-- keep it out of my sight. Damn thing makes me feel sick to look at. But. I am not throwing you away. I am never throwing you away."
Taking a breath to restabilize himself, he turned around again, leaning down and grabbing Alastor's arms, pulling him to his feet. "We're going home and you're taking the week off. Catch up on rest. Treat yourself like the treasure that you are."
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Alastor rose to his feet and leaned into Vox, closing his eyes as his signal calmed down at Vox's presence. In the back of his head, he was already thinking about where to put the old head so Vox wouldn't accidentally stumble upon it while still treating it with respect.
Perhaps he could turn it into something that would show respect while making it something beautiful. Then if Vox chose to see it, he'd see it and by extension himself the way Alastor's saw him. Perhaps a planter? Or maybe a fish tank with a little pet shark? Vox would probably like that.
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The head thing had seriously traumatized Alastor. He would still do it all again, but fucking hell, he did not like how much it was haunting his contractee.
"You're mine. My treasure, my most precious find. I will never stop building you up. I will never toss you aside. You're mine. No one else could ever appreciate you the way I do. No one else can see what I see. You're mine..."
God. He loved Alastor so much. It burned him to think of him working under anyone else. Or surrendering under the blade of an Exorcist. No... this deer belonged here, in his grasp, until they both died.
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His signal was tired, weak, but still hummed with affection. Was it toxic and unhealthy? Absolutely.
Somehow, Alastor never wanted it any other way.
He hugged Vox back, relaxing against him. He felt warm and safe right here with the Media Overlord. Probably not something anyone would have ever anticipated.
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After he felt more grounded, he gave Alastor a soft pat on the back.
"We're going home. You're making yourself a meal, eating, and getting sleep."
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Alastor was also more relaxed now that the fear had been alleviated. Honestly, he wasn't one for microwave meals, but he was so tired he was almost considering it. Good thing he did meal prep when he could.
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He couldn't guarantee that others wouldn't put him into such a position, but if it was within his power, he'd make sure to keep Vox's mind at ease.
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It's times like these that Vox wonders what... exactly their bond really is. No one demanded obedience from someone they loved, right? At least, his parents weren't really that way - they'd had a much better marriage than his sad attempt. He couldn't say either of his parents acted like they were consumed with the thought of one another, though... and that's often where Vox found himself, with Alastor. Preoccupied, consumed, obsessive.
He's lost in thought about that, still sitting in the kitchen and drinking water - he'd had to turn down coffee since he suspected Alastor might've nabbed a cup, and he would've absolutely just had a harder time falling asleep. This wasn't a simple Deal relationship... he owned Alastor's soul, but the trust was freely given most of the time. And other contractees? Vox had no qualms about completely ruining their lives. But Alastor...
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His understanding of love was warped beyond all belief. Loving someone was painful and obsessive in his experience. It's how he'd loved his mother, seeing her as a saint even as he knew they were doing terrible things because she was doing what she had to to get by with the child she'd been saddled with. He'd felt similarly with his friend Mimzy...
...well, they'd stayed friends up until she realized he wasn't the least bit useful to her down here. Then she'd had his "freeloading ass" hit the road.
As blasphemous as it was to think, Vox wasn't perfect. If he was, he wouldn't be here in Hell. However, Alastor adored him all the same. If that was painful and obsessive, well, that was simply love.
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