"Alastor…"
Clover's whisper was swallowed by the shadows, the familiar chill dancing around her fingertips as she reached out into the darkness. Her hand landed on something solid for a moment before it shifted out of her reach, a fleeting feeling of silk that lingered just long enough to convince her of what she already knew;
He was here.
The tears that formed were welcomed, her lungs finally feeling free from the toxicity that threatened to strangle her and it took everything she had not to swoon when the ground seemed to shift beneath her feet. Shadows hastened towards her, peeling away from the walls with a sound similar to the train-whistle rush of air that accompanied an oncoming tornado The piercing noise fading into an overbearing static, disjointed voices that fizzled and popped from every direction wrapping her a blanket of frequency. Wisps swirled around her ankles, twisting into almost recognizable shapes and sigils backlit by a flash of sickly green before sinking back into the blackened river beneath her. She turned to find where its end would be and found a single point of warm, golden light breaking through the darkness, a set of radio dials that turned to her for a moment before returning their attention to the voice that broke through the static.
"̴A̶l̷a̶s̴t̶o̶r̷!̵"̸
"Vox."
Everything went to dead air, an abrupt silence as darkness deafened the room, and then alongside the sound of warming radio tubing, he stepped out of the fading shadows. Alastor stood tall as the last bit of darkness cast itself across the floor behind him and sent her a wide smile. Clover couldn't help but smile back, watching as Alastor caught his cane with a twirl before it hit the floor with an echoing crack that sent cables scattering into the walls.
"You know, I was under the impression there was more, well- Finesse to filmmaking." Alastor sighed, turning his head to casually examine the room. "But it appears you run your business in the same manner you approach all things."
The smooth cadence of his voice, enhanced to its fullest by the microphone he held at his side, sent a shiver down her spine. She was in awe as she watched him, Alastor taking slow steps towards the towering display Vox was attempting to impose his image upon. It was then that she realized that up to this point, Clover had only experienced a fraction of what Alastor could be when he put his mind to it. She'd been faced with the demon's power before, a short burst of deal making here, some magic there, but those moments were nothing compared to the man that was currently standing in front of her.
Now it was far easier to see where the tales of the famed Radio Demon came from.
"Alastor, I'm so g̷l̵a̴d̷ to see you."
Vox had returned to the set, maintaining his dual broadcast and standing in front of the image of his own perfectly poised smile. He kept both sets of eyes trained on Alastor as the Radio Demon squared his shoulders and stood tall, Clover watching from behind as his neck twisted slightly to one side with a soft crack. He dropped his microphone, watching as it disappeared with a soft pop before he rocked backwards on his heels with a sharp intake of breath.
"I can't say I feel the same." The annoyed flick of Alastor's ear gave her an idea of his expression, but Clover couldn't resist her need to see more. Slowly, she sidestepped until his profile came into view, keeping an eye on the shattered demon that hovered at the set's edge. Alastor's lip curled, showing more of that deadly smile as he continued. "I often wondered why any demon with self respect would sign a contract with you and yours, but this experience has enlightened me! Abducting one's client certainly leaves little room for rejection, and endless pestering must have worked at some point for you to continue the practice."
Vox's smile widened, a spark jumping between his antennae.
"We were just talking."
"Well, from what I heard of that exchange, I am glad that we've never truly attempted conversation."
Clover tried to stifle her ungraceful snort, clasping a hand over her mouth. Another piece of the Alastor puzzle had clicked into place, fitting perfectly alongside the others she'd collected in her time knowing him. Whether he was playing his part as the bombastic Radio Demon that stalked through speakeasies and slaughtered sinners live on air, or the charming man that helped her down staircases and spoiled her without reason, Alastor's quick wit and charisma never failed to delight her.
Her outburst seemed to remind both men of her presence, the display behind Vox going dark with a snap of his fingers. The digital demon opened his arms wide, nodding to Alastor as his grin grew wider.
"Your move, ő̷͉l̴̯̾d̵͕̈́ ̵̟͝m̴̳͑ą̶̋n̸̫̍."
The squealing rise of static overtook Vox's taunt, the sick crunch that followed echoing through the room so violently she was unable to immediately locate the sound's source. Clover turned to Alastor in a panic, her heart leaping into her throat as a shadowed shape shot across her vision and collided with the shattered demon that had stepped towards her. The sickening crunch that followed churned her stomach, Clover pitching forwards as she stepped away from struggling shadows.
The Radio Demon stood unaffected, Alastor pulling the handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiping both hands with it before returning it to its place. Her fear shifted into interest as she followed his gaze, pausing briefly on the furious face of Vox before moving on to the chaos behind him.
A flickering red reflected off shattered crystal as runes faded into the shadows, Clover doing her best to remember their shapes for later investigation before moving onto the twisting darkness that demanded her attention. Inky vines twisted out from beneath the floorboards and curled around the remains of Vox's broken ego. The televisions sat in pieces, crushed beneath the weight of the tendrils of shadow, the still-flickering screens crumbling to the ground around the base of the single, massive tentacle. It impaled the vintage television that had sat at center stage, twisting around its wooden frame so tightly it began to splinter.
"I have no time for your games today, I'm afraid. Perhaps another time." Alastor said, turning sharply on his heel and moving swiftly towards her. His shadow swept around her still shocked form, dropping the bouquet of wires it held between its claws at her feet. Clover barely had time to take notice of the hole it had left in the chest of Vox's puppet before the shadow was taking her arm and leading her towards the door. "Now, whether you mind or not, I'll be escorting her home. In the future, I would suggest you refrain from contacting Miss Clover directly, as she has explicitly stated on multiple occasions that she has no interest in doing business with you."
She listened for Alastor behind her, his radio stations changing at a rapid pace as he followed at her heels. The shadow's grasp released as they neared the door, Clover now confidently keeping time with Alastor's quick pace, and rushed ahead of them to disappear beneath their exit.
Holding the door open for her, Alastor paused, his radio volume dropping to a soft hum as he turned and addressed Vox one final time.
"Oh, and do tell your business partner that if he values any of his extremities, that he should keep them away from what does not belong to him ."
Clover stumbled as his voice rolled over her, scratching against her insides as the normal transatlantic pleasantry became distorted, rough alongside the static that warped his words. The door opened, and she was suddenly hit with the light of Pentagram City's red sun, wincing as her eyes struggled to adjust after being subjected to the artificial blue light of Vox's studio for so long. She felt Alastor take her arm and she leaned into it, twisting her fingers into the fabric of his suit sleeve as she let him lead her away from the echoes of crumbling technology.
As her vision fully returned, she tried to get her bearings, turning to watch as concrete buildings blew past them. She had absolutely no idea where they were, the cold streets shifting from what felt like the outskirts of the city into more populated but unfamiliar territory. It was all too much; Jumptrons flashing with colorful advertisements, film studios with recognizable faces plastered across billboards with risque headlines. It made her stomach churn, and by the way Alastor barely lifted his head as he rushed them along, it seemed he wasn't too fond of it all either.
"Alastor-"
"We'll have much to talk about once we arrive at the hotel, are you able to walk?" Alastor's smile was still tight, his teeth grinding down on his words despite the gentleness that softened the edge in his voice.
Clover sighed, chewing at her lip for a moment. She had so many questions, but she knew better than to bother him with it now. Besides, just because Alastor seemed to be able to teleport, didn't mean that extended to her, right? There was something powerful about walking away from what just happened to her, and the longer she thought about it, it became clear that it was exactly what Alastor would do. A graceful exit from a burning building, walking away from an explosion, as if nothing had happened at all.
Ignoring the shakiness in her legs and running a hand across her hair to rid herself of the crackle of static it had collected, Clover tried her best to stand tall beside him.
"I'm okay to walk home."
"Good! I suggest we take the scenic route then."
For a while she distracted herself with his radio, listening to the overly cheery jazz music that dropped through the tension like a sledgehammer. When that became too much, she instead focused on trying to figure out where exactly they were, peering into the shop windows they passed for any sign of familiarity. A billowing pillar of smoke curling over the top of skyscrapers caught her attention, Clover's ears twitching forward as sounds of chatter rose over the staticed melody that surrounded her. Alastor's radio switched to the lively tempo of a parade march as they grew nearer, the demon evening his pace to fall in time with the music and adjusting her on his arm. His sudden change in mood confused her for a moment, and then they rounded the corner onto a familiar, seedy street.
"What happened?"
Clover felt like her voice was swallowed by the crowds that dotted the sidewalks of Valentino's strip of hell. Demons talked excitedly amongst themselves, gazing up at the crumbling mess that was the entrance to a familiar strip club, its velvet awning singed where it wasn't actively flickering with flames. News vans dotted the street, flashes of reporters' cameras bouncing off the cracked windows. Her heart leapt into her throat, ears twitching forward to listen for any sign of the rasping voice that was sure to haunt her nightmares. This was dangerous, Alastor had to know that. They were walking into exactly the place they knew Valentino, the man who had snatched her off the street and nearly assaulted in his backseat, had returned to. Why were they here? Was it a simple coincidence, or did Alastor have other motives? He was a show-off, that much she already knew, but she'd never thought much about how he approached the aftermath of his carnage, not in his life nor his death. Killers returned to the scene of the crime on occasion, and Alastor's narcissism could lead him to do the same, but this felt different.
This wasn't for him.
Leaning into her ear, Alastor pressed a palm into the small of her back and steered her away from the center of the chaos.
"Our first guess of where you'd been taken to. Your employer wrestled information about what had happened from someone in the area, I was told, and we wasted no time in following the lead. Once it became clear that you had been taken elsewhere, it was decided that perhaps distracting that petulant perversion would prove beneficial."
Distracted by the rubble that blocked traffic and the holes that threatened the building's infrastructure, Clover didn't think twice about most of his explanation. She'd already assumed that something had been done to draw him away from the phone call Valentino had received. Now she was more interested in who, or what, was able to cause a mess of this proportion. Seeing Alastor's power in person, even if it was only a fraction of it, had raised more questions than she thought she'd ever have the chance to ask, but she knew enough to tell that this was not his work alone. The pyrotechnics seemed out of character for him, and she was curious to know who else she'd made a good enough impression on that they'd join in on Alastor's carnage.
Before she was able to examine any further, Alastor was pulling her down a twisting alleyway as his radio began to shift again. Stations switched slowly at first, pausing here and there as he mulled over his choices, before it turned off entirely and returned to that soft fizzle of static that she'd grown so fond of. Finally after what felt like an eternity walking along backstreets with nothing but white noise, Alastor's steady pace slowed to a stroll.
"Clover, there is something I believe should be said before we arrive and you're swept up into the concerned masses that await us." His ears twitched, flicking back and forth in agitation as his smile tightened. "I shouldn't have left you alone, it was a misjudgment on my part, but I hadn't expected you to wander off by yourself. Why in the seven rings you thought to run off like that-"
"I just went to get some lunch. We thought everything was fine, I didn't think-"
"I am well aware that you've not felt you had reason to handle your life with care before, but I must implore you to find some self preservation now."
Clover stopped as her heart twisted into her throat.
"That's not fair."
She was almost surprised at the firmness of her own voice, unweaving herself from his arm so she could face him and speak properly. Alastor's gaze dropped to their feet, his brow furrowing.
"If I hadn't been able to reach you in time, if either Vox or Valentino had decided you were not worth the fight you gave them before I had been able to locate you, there is nothing that could be done to save you," His teeth grit together as he spoke, static rising behind his words as he bowled over her attempts to include herself in the conversation.
"Al-"
"Unlike Husker, you do not have the means to fully embrace your demonic form and are unfamiliar with the delicacies of our power structure despite your desire for understanding. These things only come with experience, and I do not think you understand the scale of what is happening here, Clover and if you had chosen to sign-"
"Alastor!"
He stopped with a record scratch, and she'd have found his startled expression endearing if not for the irritation that prickled beneath her skin. Clover waited until the echo of her outburst had disappeared down the alleyway before continuing, taking a deep breath and allowing her shoulders to slump with its release.
"Are we fighting?"
Alastor blinked, staring down at her for a moment as he took a breath to speak before seeming to think better of it and allowed his head to tilt in thought. When he answered, he spoke plainly, and she couldn't help the small flutter of annoyed affection his reply renewed in her.
"...I surely hope not."
"Are you angry with me?"
A simple shake of his head was given in lieu of his answer, but that was enough.
"Then would you please calm down? I know talking is your thing, but can I have a turn?" Clover made sure he wasn't going to reply before continuing, refusing to allow them to continue to steamroll over each other in what felt like an incredibly charged conversation. "I thought that I was safe, I was still near the Colony and I went to a place that I was familiar with. I thought it was over, and maybe that was a mistake, but they caught me off guard."
Alastor's silence was comforting, as odd as it was that the Radio Demon had nothing else to say on the matter, and Clover took it as a sign that it was safe to press forward. Extending a hand out to him, Clover watched as he seemed to work through all that she'd said, his ears pulled flat against his head and his eyes shifting rapidly between her outstretched palm and the expanse of the alleyway behind her.
His distress was almost painful to watch, and as much as she wanted to comfort him further, Clover desperately needed him to take this step himself; For Alastor to reciprocate. She'd been through so much in so little time, she felt as if every moment they grew closer sparked more adversity from outside the space they'd created for each other. Somewhere inside of the more tormented corners of her heart, she worried that she'd fallen into yet another trap, a pit of sharp wit and broken hearts that her skin may not be thick enough to handle, and she wanted nothing more in the world than for him to prove her wrong.
Finally, black claws reached out and their fingers intertwined. She pretended not to notice his stuttered breath, resisting the urge to tighten her grip and instead nudged him forward so that they could continue on home.
"Would it make you feel better to know the details?" Clover asked soon after they'd begun to walk again, Alastor's radio still struggling to find an appropriate tune for this odd occasion.
She looked up just in time to catch the curling of his lip, his voice lacing with static.
"With Valentino's involvement, all I ask is that you tell me how many lines were crossed. I mean no offense, but you reek of his debauchery."
"He didn't get the chance to, uh-" Clover wasn't sure whether to focus on the churning in her stomach as the phantom touches of Valentino resurfaced on her skin, or sudden squeal of feedback that came from the man beside her at the impliacations. "Do anything more than let his hands wander and abuse the shit out of his pheromones. I'm afraid these clothes will need to be burned; I don't think Niffty is going to be able to ever get them clean enough."
As much as she was trying to convince herself she was imagining the weight of Alastor's hand against her palm, she couldn't ignore the way his fingers tightened around hers as she explained.
"As for Vox? He didn't do much, I think he hadn't yet given up on being able to convince me until you came along."
Placing her hand back in its proper place on his arm, Alastor led her out of the faded brick alleyway, pausing to let her eyes adjust to the light as the rooftops opened up again and exposed them to the slowly sinking crimson sun. He seemed to relax as they stepped out onto open street again, Clover instantly recognizing the perfect replication of 1900's Americana that was the Cannibal Colony. Alastor's radio finally settled on a soft duet between trumpet and piano, its volume dropping just low enough to not inhibit their conversation as they continued down cobbled streets.
"I apologize I did not retrieve you sooner, I was- I was pleasantly surprised by how well you were handling yourself and was interested to see how the situation developed, only once I knew you were unharmed, of course. I shouldn't have let my curiosity delay me."
"You were coming, I knew that, and that was enough." The scratch of his radio skipping slightly turned her head, and Clover smiled at the interested quirk of his brow. "The shadows. Your tricks don't work as well on me anymore, Al. I've gotten too used to you."
"Well, we can't have that now can we? How else will I continue to keep you entertained?"
Clover snorted, wrinkling her nose that she'd let out such a noise in front of him, and she hoped keeping the conversation moving would distract him from it.
"Boring doesn't exist with you around, I wouldn't worry too much about that."
Flattery usually worked, but she received nothing more than a soft hum in response. Not ready to drop back into the silence, Clover ignored the embarrassed flush that painted her skin and instead decided to return to an earlier thought.
"Alastor? I have a question."
"I will endeavor to provide a satisfying answer."
"Did we walk this way because you wanted me to see that?"
She watched as his ears twitched, Alastor's radio stations beginning to impatiently switch once again.
"You'll have to be more specific, my dear."
"I just never would have expected you to willingly walk through the Red Light District. It's very out of character for you."
"It's good to know that this experience hasn't spoiled your curiosity."
"That's not an answer."
Alastor cleared his throat, pressing his lips into a tight, upturned line before jumping back into his normal, cheery expression.
"There is no quicker way to the hotel than-"
"The scenic route?"
Alastor's radio fizzled with feedback, and she knew she'd won. Clover couldn't stop the skip that lightened her step as they climbed the stairs that led out of the Cannibal Colony;
Being right did wonders for her confidence.
"You can say you like people knowing, it's okay, I doubted that your broadcast was just something you did to make people afraid of you. I would assume you like the theater of it, it's why you make a show out of who you kill, and-" Clover paused, watching as their reflection passed along the darkened windows of the coffee shop. The flash of red that danced across the glass was too familiar, the image of his coat fluttering behind him reminding her of the arching patterns splattered blood, and she decided that now was as good a time as any to tell him what she knew. "It's why you left behind the head of that demon, the one that grabbed me at work."
Alastor looked down at her, his smile softening as he chuckled to himself and gave a gentle pat to the back of her hand.
"I had been wondering when you would decide the time was right to approach that particular topic."
"The last time I mentioned it, you acted like you hadn't been there, so I wasn't sure if you wanted to talk about it.. But you were bold, you left behind evidence. It felt too direct to ignore."
"And has that changed anything? You've been very adamant that you do not fear me, little doe, but sometimes I wonder- Where is the line, and when will we cross it?"
There was a dip in his tone, something that felt almost like uncertainty when paired with the anxious flickering of his radio, and her heart skipped a beat or two in response. The thought of Alastor worrying himself over the circumstances of their relationship was almost foreign to her, because it meant he was as equally invested in maintaining it as she was, and she'd never learned how to come to terms with the fact that Alastor very well could feel the same for her as she did for him.
She knew she was stupid when it came to relationships, but it was almost comforting that he seemed just as unsure, if not entirely out of his element. It made it much easier to be painfully honest with him, even without the aid of alcohol.
"...I trust you to not think I've gone insane when I say it's oddly sweet, in a very macabre sort of way."
Maybe she really was losing her sense of morality, or maybe she just felt comfortable enough to admit to him the things she, while alive, kept confined to her late night deep dives into the world of fanfiction. Surely there was some sort of logical explanation for why she found his actions so incredibly charming, even when they came from a man she knew committed wicked acts in both life and death
Alastor had stopped halfway through stepping down off the curb as she spoke, his shoe hitting the asphalt below harder than he intended. His radio fizzled and popped, jumping back and forth between a trumpet and what sounded like an old air raid siren before it shut off entirely.
Clover watched fondly as he attempted to regain his composure. Getting that kind of reaction out of him made all of her wondering and worrying worth it, and she knew she'd never be able to give up on whatever was happening between them, no matter how much trouble it caused her.
Clearing his throat, Alastor took a moment to right his radio before replying
"I believe I am the last person anyone should ask to decide what can be defined as insanity."
She took the hand that was offered to her, letting him help her across the street while she stifled a smile. He'd earned the final word, Clover letting their conversation come to an end as the hotel grew nearer. Alastor dropped her arm as they stepped up to the awning, the muttered conversations that made their way through the doorway drawing her attention. Her ears twitched towards the sound, listening for any clues as to what she should expect moving forwards.
"Prepare yourself, dear. There's more lurking behind this door ready to pounce than you'd expect."
Alastor's voice came from closer than she expected, her head turning to look up at the man that was currently leaning around her shoulder. The comment would have felt far more menacing if it wasn't for the teasing twist of his smile, Alastor's lopsided grin calming the nerves that bubbled beneath her skin as he reached for the door. Dark claws hovered in front of the handle, Alastor watching her expectantly. Twisting her fingers into her skirt as she breathed deep, Clover looked to him one last time for strength and nodded her approval.
All sounds stopped as the door swung inward. The hallway was dim, and now that she had grown used to Hell's setting sun, it took her a moment to adjust to the darkness once she'd stepped inside. The lobby erupted into the sounds of chairs scraping against the floorboards and feet rushing in her direction the moment she crossed the threshold. She didn't know what was coming towards her, but she certainly hadn't expected to be swept up into an embrace, and especially not one given by the last person she'd guessed would be waiting for her.
"Cyrus?"
It was hard to miss the stuttered drop in frequency that came from the hallway behind her, but it was even harder to turn her head to check on what caused the change. Cyrus's hug was bone crushing, long arms winding around her shoulders and pressing her face into his chest so tightly she could hardly breathe. He pulled away a moment later and planted his hands firmly on her shoulders, yellow eyes glancing over her head before they leveled to hers.
"Don't ever fuckin' s-s-scare me like that again."
"I'm sorry, I didn't-"
"Promise me."
Clover had never heard Cyrus sound so stern, a jarring realization considering that he was her boss.
She nodded, giving his arm a gentle squeeze that she hoped came off as reassuring as she meant it to be. It seemed to be enough, Cyrus letting out a heavy sigh as he dropped his grip. She had no time to dwell on the interaction as he stepped aside, allowing Vaggie and Charlie to crowd her with concern. It was all too much, the weight of the day finally crashing down on her now that she was safely inside the hotel. She was overwhelmed, going numb to the world around her. Letting Vaggie drag her towards the bar as she was barraged with questions she wasn't ready to answer, Clover sought out Alastor among the growing crowd, searching for the lifeline he so often provided.
Clover found him beside Cyrus, the two men standing near the doorway, heads bowed in quiet conversation. Instantly she worried that they'd begin to argue, knowing that Cyrus did not trust nor approve of Alastor, but instead, he did the unexpected. Extending a hand towards the man she'd only ever seen him approach with adversity, Cyrus gave Alastor a firm but friendly handshake. A few more words were said between them, and she became incredibly annoyed that she wasn't able to pick up their conversation over the noise no matter how far her ears perked upward.
Luckily, her annoyed huff was the cry for help that some of them seemed to be waiting for.
"Ladies! Can we give the girl some fuckin' room? Talkin' can wait, let her at least get cleaned up and have a fuckin' drink before we start givin' the third degree." Husker's voice rose above it all, large wings barging their way through the crowd to provide Clover some cover and make room for the spider that was hot on his tail.
Angel Dust caught her hand, sharing a short nod with Alastor over the top of her head and pulling her away from the fray. They were up the staircase before she was aware of what was happening, too caught up in the realization of what was going on beneath the surface; That Alastor, Angel, and Husker had somehow found the time to plan a fail safe for her return. It hit her square in the chest, knocking her heart into her throat and breaking the brittle dam that had been holding back her oncoming breakdown. Her legs gave out under its weight, Clover gripping onto Angel as she stumbled. Through her shaking sobs and the rise of radio static that echoed up from below, she could hear his muttered motivation as long arms tucked beneath hers and lifted the burden from shaking knees.
"We got'cha suga', don't you worry 'bout it."
