Chapter Text
When Vox arrived in Hell, it would be an understatement to say he was furious. He was enraged as fuck to begin from less than zero. But fortunately, he didn't have to! He thought he found the one thing he never experienced on earth: a person equal to him, a friend. Someone not to overcome, but to cooperate and eschew in a new era of entertainment with. But as in life, so in death Vox sometimes forgot how he could be himself; how he could lose himself in his passion a bit too much and let tunnel vision take over in his pursuit of greatness. Maybe it was karma that tripped him up in the end. Or just his own stupidity that, in his momentary lapse of judgement, made him do things such as these.
‘There are no friends in hell, Vincent!’
Vox didn’t have to say that he left soon enough after that fiasco – the bar they visited being just a literal afterthought as it burned bright against his retreating back. And for the record: no, he didn’t flee, he wasn’t a coward, he ran just because being near that red bastard’s frequency made his guts churn viscerally. Leaving the entertainment district behind was easy, stepping outside Pentagram City less so, but who cares at that point? Vox didn’t give a crap if he had to painfully die regenerate because he got trapped in quicksand in the middle of the fucking desert surrounding the first circle of Pride. Or worse.
Despite karma usually being a pain in the ass on the worst days and a tolerant bitch on the good ones, today it appeared to have punished him enough. Nothing stopped him in his trespassing nor in his ire since he decided that he couldn’t breathe the same air as that tacky piece of–
Vox’s next step was only met with air. He might have spoken too soon, this obnoxious tunnel vision again! He could have cursed himself to purgatory and back, if the sudden decline hadn’t robbed him of his balance, and took him down its steep hill.
Luckily, his graceless tumble ended as fast as it began, cushioned by a surprisingly soft underground that saved him from anything fatal. It was a miracle that his head remained undamaged, but CRTs are more sturdy than people tend to give them credit for. Nevertheless, the crash left him as a crumbled pile of limbs and antennas, his big head now more of a struggle than help. As Vox untangled himself, still lying prone, he brought back his eyes that went out as the vertigo set in during the fall. With his sight restored, he was able to assess his situation.
“What in…?” his speakers hissed in protest.
His claws probed the pliable ground underneath him, the brittle and wilted grashalms feeling like rot against his fingertips.
“Grass...?” Or the hell’s equivalent at least: a sickly looking and contorted weed that looked more black than red. As if it had soaked up too much blood by now. Disturbed, his gaze shot up as if to really confirm in what literal Hellscape he landed in.
Vox’s screen almost short-circuited as he took in the garden that unfolded in front of him on a massive scale he hadn’t seen in Hell before. Yet, those weren’t those picture-perfect grounds you would see in advertisements, not even close. Even those small plots he saw in cities were less bleak than this abomination. This place reeked of death and desolation – under the red sky of Pride, infernal plants grew to terrifying heights, bushes with thorns as thick as his claws, and literal vultures looked down on him from their branches up their dead and barren trees. One might find such flora and fauna fitting for a place like Hell. But even for Hell’s standards, Vox thought this was a touch too much. Whoever planted this either had a more than questionable taste or a less than stellar green thumb.
In the corner of his eyes, one enormous shape stood out to him in its brightness. In the distance, an enormous tree rose above the rest of the garden, elevated by a small hill. It didn’t look wilted like the other bunch of sad sacks; its roots even visible at the edge of the garden. An ancient tree, whose shadow draped the pond beneath the hill in a muddy brown. Because the foliage wasn’t of the same black, red or brown shade than every other pitiful plant here, but of a dull green that looked like poison personified it stood in stark contrast to Hell itself.
A shiver ran down Vox’s body. This place gave him the creeps.
But even such a strange landscape didn’t help settling the fury still pounding through his wires. Vox shook his head to regain his focus – he had to plan his vengeance. A simple anomaly wouldn’t deter him from his path.
Sitting up, he ignored the abnormal nature around him and decided to move on, storming past unsuspicious plants and the faint rustle of animals, that his abrupt landing hopefully scared off for good. His feet ironically took him towards the centre of the garden, to that creepy tree and the shallow pond that seems to attract as much as disgust him. Vox stopped before the water’s shore, his face a grimace of anxiety and fury in the red surface. That won’t do it. Turning around abruptly, his voice exploded, letting his anger run free.
“How could he?! I planned everything to be perfect, planned everything ahead for the biggest collaboration of all time and plane! And what do I get?!” Vox’s hands got hold of his head’s frame, tearing.
“NOTHINnggG!” bellowed his voice, hitting its limit.
“How dare he reject this partn-, this offer, as if it meant nothing!”
As if they meant nothing.
“Why would he- he had no fucking reason to decline this! No other reason than annoying the hell out of me ag-again! That cowardly bastard wouldn’t know a great de-deal even if it would punch him straight in the face! Stupid radio! Nothing but a relict of old-”
A sudden thought struck him. A brilliant one… a shark-like grin widened on his screen as his hands released his head. Vox pointed a finger up into the sky as if to challenge, posing confidently.
“Do you hear, you stuck-up bastard, your medium will be nothing but obsolete! A relict that people will walk past with a turned up nose soon! I will show you what you missed out on, how your pride will cost you every last drop of popularity and power!”
A laughter bubbled up his throat that sounded more crazy than sane.
“I will make him regret this so much and shove that stupid laughter of his so deep in his damn throat that he can suffocate on it all he wants. There will be nothing left…” he seethed under his breath, before straightening himself and turning back around.
“And one day they will all regret denying me! And they will come back crawling to my feet like the faithless morons they are! That fucking bami and all those over-rated-lords will shed their disbelieve in face of my ascension to mother-fucking godhood! You hear me up there, old man? I am coming for you and I will be the one they all trust and worship, not some lousy and sleazy geezer that is too much of a pussy to–”
A heartfelt laugh disrupted his speech. Vox’s screen glitched for a second, before settling on a vexed expression as his head swivelled around the garden. He hadn’t expected anyone else to be here, to witness this. His mouth turned into a heavy scroll as he spotted the culprit of his mockery on that hill. A short silhouette sat underneath the same horrendously contorted tree he previously dismissed. Now standing nearer, he saw it definitely clearer – the wilting grass surrounding the tree and a nearby stream leading downhill into the pond – it looked like an apple tree from a glance at its blood-red fruits, standing in stark contrast with its leaves to the bleak landscape.
But honestly, the whole thing gave him graveyard vibes, and the stranger shrouded in shadows didn’t elevate them one bit. But Vox didn’t care about the sharp edge in his (?) laugh, when he was the one being laughed at, and rather would like to throw some cables and fists, already fuming with unconcealed furore at the insolen–
“Alright there, demon,” the stranger said leisurely,” don’t get your antennas in a twist there and let me tell ya.” The short freak leaned forward, as if to scold him. The brim of a white tall top hat peaked through the shadows. “You reaaaaally don’t wanna end up on god’s bad side – or seeing we are in hell – on his badder side. Like it’s really not – definitely not worth the whole investment and stuff!
Oh, how he didn’t need another person making fun of him tonight!
Vox promptly wanted to make this idiot regret his comment and came to a stand at the foot of the hill to politely tell him where he could stick his opinion. Yet, Vox couldn’t make out the face underneath the head. He hated to not be able to read people. But not nearly as much as standing beneath them.
“And, pray tell me, what makes you think I care about the words of a random nobody, short freak? Are you, perchance, a fan of stalking people or just the CEO of VoxTek enterprises?” Vox taunted, adding a truly mocking laugh, and stalked closer to the unfortunate demon-scum that decided to interrupt him.
Yet, instead of fear or a sudden escape, all he gained as a response was the tilt of their head, the rest of the body still lying in shadows. It reminded Vox of a dog who is curious what new treat it got. His antennas betrayed him – again, this stupid head – as they sent a visible spark of discomfort through his limbs.
“The better question is: are you, perchance, new in hell?” replied the shadow nonchalant.
“Eh? What are you insinuating, short bitch?” Only a raised brown called him out, challenging him. And Vox never backed out of one.
“Yeah, I concede, my arrival in hell maybe wasn’t that long ago. Yet, you see, I gained a foothold in Hell and its media industry far sooner than other less ambitious and weak-minded sinners! You have heard of me, surely – or must have seen me! Vin– Vox! That’s right, the CEO of VoxTek himself and your most trusted news broadcaster!”
He waited for a reaction he wouldn’t receive. His expression shifted with an angry glitch of his screen from charming to enraged as his already short fuse became non-existent. He tried to cover it with a sharp chuckle.
“You know, in life, nobody had such a promising career as I! They once called me a god, you get it, you deaf imbecile? A god! And I am still at the top of my game – even in hell! I always knew that my afterlife wouldn’t be pretty, even if–,” his breath got caught in his throat, “…considering my deeds, but that’s show-business for you!”
He spread his arms out, gesticulating passionately. “And luckily, hell’s not that different from earth – it makes you question if hell isn’t just the wet dream of people like me, does it?” he laughs haughtily.
“Even in life, I eventually got everything I strived for. Alone. And besides, I didn’t need those idiot producers, they needed me! And now that red bastard–”, another sharp inhale, “I don’t need them to become god, they can eat my dust, when I get what I deserve! I don’t–”
“Well, not to interrupt your tragic backstory or to steal your thunder, but you are perhaps overlooking an itsy-bitsy part there…” That nuisance leaned further out of the shade of the tree. A gloved, white hand reached out and almost squeezed together its index finger and thumb to underline his point.
That fucker, how dare he!?
Vox stomped closer and stopped merely an arm-length away from him, yet he could barely make out the rest of the stranger’s attire – a white tailcoat with red piping and a striped waistcoat beneath was all his screen’s light revealed. A ringmaster outfit – how fitting for a weird freak playing the fool as if he was in a circus.
And he is also short as hell, he thought, as his prior assumption proved right. He easily loomed over that irksome pest. A wide grin itched itself on his screen as he leaned down menacingly.
“And what would that be?”
Suddenly, the figure raised his head, revealing a too-pale face, showing off a too-wide grin that must have been as terrifying as his own, if not more only because of the crimson circles framing it. But the real horror lied in those eyes, because the stranger also had a red sclera that seemed much more unsettling on a real face, and their iris and pupils were molten together into one amber burning flame. Those otherworldly eyes pierced right through him, not exactly seeing him, but his sins and through every mask he ever wore – a gaze that knew him better than he himself ever would. His carefully stitched together facade of calm and charisma broke down in mere seconds as his eyes widened in alarm.
With a fearful yelp, Vox scrambled back, falling on his ass like a pathetic new-arrival, who got spooked by their reflection or own shadow. Only Vox had already seen some shit in hell, yet this wasn’t on his bingo card this month. He wouldn’t even be in this situation to begin with, if Al–
“No one defies God and emerges unscathed.”
The words rang in his head like church bells. Only that he stood directly under them, so they echoed back and forth in his systems, nearly causing an input overload as he sat there paralysed. What more threw him off the rails was the meaning behind the words. They struck him with a bitter, revolting taste, throwing him back to the reality – a reality where he is a nobody again. A nobody with a fragile as fuck head and useless grills and–
He stumbled to his knees a moment later with his screen turned off, collecting himself.
He couldn’t have another breakdown.
This is hell, there is no weakness allowed.
Yet, he couldn’t help hearing the words and how fitting they were. Alastor would pay for sure for rejecting Vox as if he were a mere sinner.
Taking a risky look up, Vox’s expression went from disquieted to bewildered in a second. He reset his eyes in case his crash did some lasting damage – but, nope, the stranger still sat there, leaning against the bark as if nothing happened. He didn’t even acknowledge Vox and instead stared at the bloody waters in front of them.
Either this freak is a complete obvious idiot or a powerful enough demon to just dismiss him like that, Vox thought. Unsure how to proceed nor ready to admit defeat, Vox remained dumbfounded in his kneeling position, growing more nervous the longer the other didn’t say something.
“Ehm…no need for that…” the figure eventually said into the awkward silence and vaguely waved in his direction and then pointed back to his side. Vox could merely blink owlishly at the sudden offer. As if reading his thoughts – he wasn’t a telepath, was he? – the demon said: “Move over, I won’t bite…yet.”
Not trusting the extended olive branch one bit, Vox scooched over, with a good distance still between them.
“So… want a duck?”
The tonal whiplash hit him harder than his previous words had any right to.
Before he could find words, a tiny duck was held before his face.
“What the…? A fucking rubber duck?” And then dropped into his hands that fumbled to catch the little toy. Looking up from the yellow, cute bird, he sees the other planting those ducks – where the hell did they even come from? – in the red waters at their feet.
“You said, earth and hell were similar, yeah? I knew a time, where this was the furthest from the truth. Indeed, not even–”
“Oh hell, don’t you just argue that because humans did the nuclear weapons thingy, Hell suddenly became such a better place since we lack the materials down here?” Vox bit back, his mouth faster than his mind. But as before, the stranger remained indifferent to his snarky attitude.
“Eh, not quite so recently, no…? My point is… just because you come down to Hell, thinking you won the jackpot of the afterlife ‘cause you can continue your sinful life as before without consequence, you are wrong. You may not see it at first, but you will experience how the same satisfaction of a deed won’t find you anymore. It became a shallow reflection now, mimicking what you once had – this is the punishment of those who sin.”
Is he really lecturing Vox now, that fuck?
“What the hell are you on about? Tell me something I didn’t know already, if you want to berate me, half-pint.”
And why is he playing along with it??
"Mhm. Did you notice how similar this garden looks to those on earth?”
Vox then decided to take a real look around the place – not because the pip-squeak said so, but since last time, he stormed through it like a headless chicken. Maybe it had its benefits to be called out by a rando. Besides, he had nowhere better to be nor nothing else to think (do not think–) about for now.
“I only notice how those ugly as sin trees look like something straight out of a horror film set.” His comment drew a lighthearted chuckle from the stranger.
“You are not far off, Box-Head. Despite similar systems as on Earth, Hell deliberately differs just in enough details that it makes your hair – orrrrr antennas stand on end. Because as with people, it took Earth's animals, plants and everythings only to reveal it's darkest sides.”
Vox also definitely let the nickname slide since he was above such pettiness and not because he was called names worse than that since he landed in hell, television being a nearly unknown concept as of now thanks to a certain media's dominance. So when the stranger threw out his arm and pointed towards the little pond down below, where already some of his rubber ducks drifted to, he followed the gesture without complain.
Both their eyes caught sight of two familiar-looking creatures swimming through the maze of yellow ducks. Their bird-like form looked deformed and unproportional as if somebody had put them through a meat grinder and then sicced a kid to clumsily put the pieces back together like clay. The creatures’ dark red and brown feathers stood out against the fakers’ shrill yellow that you only would see a tad of resemblance between them if you squinted your eyes extra hard.
The stranger's explanation shed some light into the foreign workings of Hell, because all Vox knew was that animals in hell were rare. And when he saw them in the windows of pet stores or seldomly outside the city in the barren lands, they tended to take strange, nearly otherworldly, forms which he hadn't questioned before. In the everyday struggle, it seems so easy to overlook the fact that those animals once were like their earth’s counterparts, now moulded by the harsh climate of hell into something grotesque – or you just spent so long in Hell that you eventually forgot what they even looked like up there…
He was kinda glad that Hell's sharks still resembled the sharks he knew.
“You see, Boxy,” – “Hey! That one definitely goes too far!” –, “nothing grows down here as it should. At least, not like fath– God had planned. Because it is a symbol for what happens to those who have the audacity to go against God themselves – a reminder of the pride that lets them think they can go against His rule. It’s Hell’s venom that twists your physical form further into a mere shell of what you once were – and mentally gnaws at you – until you are not even realizing that you are bent over backwards in a constant struggle to regain what was taken from you. That’s the price of the sin of hubris,” finished the stranger sombrely.
And all that came into Vox's thoughts was that he didn’t believe in God anymore.
But come to think of – had Vincent once done so? Would he be the one questioning: what is the chance that when Vincent could end up in hell, God would also be behind all of this? God bring the one ruling heaven and judging mortal souls if they are worthy of his realm? Or had he already prepared his list for such occasion? Would Vincent question humanity and those powers above them.
Vox's thoughts also supplied how he didn’t do doubt anymore.
“This is the closest one gets to being up there,” the stranger continued, tearing Vox out of his strange thoughts. Now holding up a rubber duck between them, specifically the one Vox had in his hands a moment ago, he looked at Vox with a pensive look. His now inverted eye colours — had that before been his demon form? How lame — contained a tad of pathetic sadness in them. Such a display of vulnerability felt simply wrong, mainly since it was the thing leading to one's downfall faster than starting a turf war against an Overlord. Vox of all sinners should know by now. And for this stranger to just expose himself like that felt more like Vox was the one intruding and not the other way around.
Although he maybe was right-
“You want to create something that resembles how it used to be – something you hold dear – but it will never be the same, y’know? Those rubber duckies are the furthest I’ll get, but I’ll never see a living and quaking duck again that doesn’t sound like souls being tormented. Wanna hear the infernal mimicry?” Trying to ignore the fool's lecture the best Vox could, a huff of disbelief left his speakers at the last part. Vox's attention only turned back as the demon threw a stone into the waters below that agitated the two oblivious animals in the pond.
Suddenly, cries of pure agony resonated in the garden. A cacophony of whimpers, screams, groans and sobs assaulted Vox’ systems from seemingly everywhere with the intensity of an earthquake. Startled, he threw up his hands reflectively, only to drop them in vain and instead turned down his audio input like the TV he was. The stranger next to him didn’t move a muscle, standing there with eyes cast down in a contemplative stare. If Vox weren’t sure that he was in Hell yet, this craziness would prove everything and more. Those blood-curling screams would haunt his systems for days, he was sure.
Only as silence finally returned, did Vox fully comprehend that the noise came from the ducks that sulkily waddled away after leaving the pond behind. Short cries, that would be a complaintive quark if they were normal ducks, followed them as they vanished into the depths of the garden.
“Paradoxically, striving for something that’s unattainable – it’s the closest to feeling alive again.”
Now it was that bitch’s turn to laugh unhinged into his metaphorical face.
A sudden nausea befell Vox. The sickening feeling stemmed certainly only from those abhorrent screams.
“What the hell?” complained Vox instead, standing up to face him head on.
“Do you like, have a death wish or something??” said he all so eloquently.
Vox thought he was having one at that point, certain that the stranger had enough of his attitude by now. Yet, the short figure remained unimpressed by his threats, leaning on that bark like he owned this garden and even let out an amused scoff.
That teasing indifference, it drove Vox crazy like hell, his antennas emitting a dangerous spark.
Why doesn’t he become angry? Why doesn’t he lash out?
Why does he waste his time on him?
Why does he?
“Says the sinner wanting to take on God themselves,” was the cheeky remark, a smirk plastered on the stranger's face. Before Vox could come up with a greater comeback, the stranger cut the chase as he continued in a startling seriousness.
“Sinner, only as a reminder: you spoke about matters beyond your already limited scope.”
His claws fidgeted uneasily at the tone, cringing a few steps back.
But damn, a few rhetorical classes would be good for the little freak – and a few more social skills. It was something Vox could relate with outside his media persona, nevertheless it was all too jarring in person. Not that he would tell him that to his face.
"Har- har! You se- serious there?" came his less than steady reply.
“About things that are certainly out of your hand and above your being.” The stranger stepped completely out of the shade, wearing a solemn expression.
At least he knew where it hurt the most, that bastard.
“Now, hold on!” his anger grew back, no longer buried beneath pleasantries. Yet, his feet stayed rooted.
“You strive for things long gone.”
Vincent could have had it all. And Vox will have. He knew it! He couldn't fail again...
“Things even, or maybe especially, Hell can’t give you.” He stood right before Vox, head craned up in a leisurely manner. Crimson eyes met his red ones.
What right does this nobody have to doubt him? To mock Vox like he did?
“Well, that's were you are wrong! Hell will be my stepping stone to a higher plane!”
“Hell is merely the one-way-street to your ruin. You’re just not capable of seeing it. By Satan, even I needed some beating to get some sense into me!” a humorless laugh followed. “A mere sinner like you? This circle isn’t yours to break!”
“I am no MERE sinner!” static interlaced with his voice and filled the air, yet the demon continued undisturbed.
“Tell me something I hadn’t heard before, Boxy. Are your ears busted or didn’t you hear me before? You shouldn’t cling to–”
“I DON’T CLING TO–”
His claws surged forward, meeting only air. He blinked slowly, a moment shattering his reality. Did he just–?
A voice behind him snapped him out of his trace, startling him to turn around.
“Ha– you sure there, sinner? I think you don’t even know why you are making these claims yourself.”
There he stood. Mockingly.
Fuckin' teleporting, he should have seen that coming.
“I–I–I’m no–not–!”
Black smoke rose from his vents. Not now. He wasn't done yet!
Yet, his technical parts didn't agree with Vox. The feeling of overheating circuits and spasming nerves had him hunched over with pain. Yet, he wouldn't let himself become prey so easily, his eyes fixed on the demon opposite to him.
Miraculously, instead of kicking him while he was on his metaphorical knees, the stranger just... stared. Just stood there with an unblinking, haunted look that belied the intricate emotions Vox couldn't decipher welling up inside his eyes. He wanted to tear his gaze away, but something held him captivated.
“Just know that Heaven will show no mercy,” was the whispered promise, his forlorn gaze boring through Vox – this time looking past him at horrors beyond Vox's understanding.
And in a blink of an eye, he vanished without further ado. Vox stumbled back at the suddenness as if burned out by the absences of the intense stare alone. His head swung in every direction, yet he couldn’t catch a glimpse of a white coat sticking out.
Looking back down to where the stranger stood, only a lone rubber duck sat in the grass, its owner nowhere to be found.
Vox was alone, left in the lurch again. But this time, he felt nothing but tired.
At least, until his usual anger and frustration set in mere seconds after the humiliation had sunken in.
To Hell with it all! Fuck this day, this week – my whole fucking afterlife at this point!
Lurching to his feet with more force than necessary, his legs were more than ready to take him home, if he hadn’t made the mistake to look back. Locking eyes with that thing. It was kinda absurd, but what wasn’t today?
And the yellow rubber duck with its beady eyes was the least bizarre thing on his long list of today’s events – it did nothing but sit there innocently, unaware of all worldly woes. Like a warning wished Vox to think, but it rather screamed like a peace offering. The best way to deal with it would be to outright ignore it and go on his merry way, yet his gaze simply couldn't tear itself off of that toy…
Until one of his cables finally decided for him as it freed itself from his back, meandering its way through the wilting grass and wrapped itself around the unsuspected duck like a snake. His eyes not leaving the thing until his cable dragged the toy back and placed it in his claws.
Before he shoved the thing into his pocket like some illicit drug, Vox squeezed the rubber duck, feeling the material — definitely vinyl — flex underneath his grip, which earned him a joyful quark. A sound reminding him of the toys he would gave his pet. A memory that elicited a small smile on his face and made the day's troubles and bottled-up emotions seem all too distant. Maybe for today, they could be future Vox's problems. With a content hum, his feet headed back the way Vox came with a new toy for a certain shark in tow.
And if somebody asked about the duck – his appendages just tend to act on their own will.
Just like Alastor’s.