One step forward, two steps back.
That was exactly what Clover took as they rounded the corner on the way back to the hotel, and were met with the vibrant visage projected across a collection of television screens.
After an extended stay at the cafe that bled into the early hours of the afternoon, one consisting of multiple refills, two more pastries, and an extended retelling of how exactly Alastor joined the forces with the Princess of Hell to rehabilitate sainthood-bound sinners, Clover had reawoken her resting legs at Alastor's request. They'd wandered along the edge of the Colony until it reached its end, and from there had made a sharp turn into the more 21st-century center of Pentagram City with their sights set on returning home to the hotel. Clover had fully settled into the sunny sentimentality their morning together had set over her, her steps had regained some of their bounce as Alastor further lightened the mood with a lively swing, when a familiar flash of teal sank sickness into the pit of her stomach and took her good mood with it.
This was becoming a painful pattern whose parameters grew smaller with each passing day.
Alastor ran into Clover with a record scratch, the demon having taken to walking at her heels once they'd entered more modern territory. For a foolish moment she thought she'd misjudged, watching as the television screen cut to what was obviously a commercial for the latest technological advancements of Voxtech, but as the camera cut back to the preening collection of pixels that threatened to burn himself into her mind forever, Vox's eyes met hers. If she hadn't known any better she would have called it chance, luck of angles, but there was no mistaking the pointed glance to Alastor behind her as Vox singled her out in the crowd.
The televisions flickered, one by one turning from the infomercial they'd been broadcasting until a dozen sets of eyes stared back at her.
"Alastor-" Clover reached back for him, unable to break away from the dizzying technicolor that had begun to swirl at the corners of her vision, but the high-pitched buzzing from her bag had her digging through it for her cell phone before she could think twice about it.
It nearly fell from her fingers once she had it, the rapid vibration she'd set as her ringtone nearly doubled in strength as notifications flashed across the screen; Sinstagram, Vogitek, text messages, Voxflix, anything and everything that could send her a push notification coming together in a constant barrage of social outreach. This time putting her phone in airplane mode did little to halt the attack, her frantic pressing of the icon only succeeded in opening her messaging app and revealing exactly what she was being spammed with.
Every single message contained a picture of her.
All it took was one look at what seemed to be an image of this exact moment for her to tumble into panic, Clover's hands beginning to shake as her screen turned black with the threat of an incoming call.
V̴̛͓͍̀̽ȯ̵̘x̸̯̩̍
It was then that she became aware of the rising static that was radiating from the demon behind her, sinking into her spine where they remained connected from her collapse into him. Clover turned upward, her head tilting back painfully when her legs refused to function long enough to allow her to face him and found Alastor's smile sharper than she'd ever seen it before.
"Alastor?"
The Radio Demon's head snapped towards her with an audible click, the scrubbing static of his radio shattering with a screech of feedback as Alastor bounced back into step beside her, his voice amplified above the bustling of the world around them.
"No time for dilly-dallying! I've a meeting to attend, surely you understand, don't you dear?"
"Wha-" Clover's question died on her lips as she was swept forward again, Alastor's arm linking with hers in an iron chain that tugged her tripping feet along the sidewalk.
The overly-peppy melody that started up as they continued down the busy city street was almost painful to her hypervigilant ears, pushing them back flat against her skull with its toxic, nearly radioactive, positivity. They'd barely made it down the block before the expanse of the sidewalk before them disappeared with a sweeping of shadows, and the floor fell out from under her with a whistle that rattled the rabbit to the bone. If she'd blinked she would have missed the twisting smile of the shadow that blew past them through the darkness before she was blinded by the flash of sunlight as they were deposited onto cold concrete once again.
Alastor was inside the hotel before she'd even fully realized their new location, calling out into the nearly empty lobby as Clover stumbled over the threshold behind him.
"Husker my good man! Is our dear Angel Dust upstairs?"
Sending Clover a confused glance over the Radio Demon's shoulder, and huffing heavily when all she could provide in return was a shaking shrug, Husker paused his cleaning of the bar's glassware long enough to answer Alastor's question.
"Uh-Yeah, he got home 'round six, why?"
"No reason."
Alastor rapped his microphone on the countertop, the sound echoing through the lobby with aid of its amplification before it was overtaken by the sound of a body tumbling to the floor.
"Jesus fuckin' Chri-"
"Well, it's a little late for us to call on his help, now isn't it."
Ignoring Alastor's aside, Angel Dust scrambled to his feet, kicking himself free from a fuzzy pink blanket as he shouted.
"Dammit Al! Ya' just can't voodoo bullshit a guy outta' his own bed! What if I was jerkin'-?"
The spider demon's tirade halted as Angel turned on Alastor, long fingers freezing in their accusing path toward him as the two men locked eyes. With the last remnants of a shadowed portal lined with twisting tendrils of darkness faded into the ceiling above them, Clover tried to figure out what exactly it was about Alastor's tight smile that had been enough to sober the ever-hot-headed Angel Dust, but The Radio Demon was speaking again as soon as he'd grabbed attention.
"Angel, would you mind keeping our resident rabbit company for the time being?"
"Uh-" Angel turned to Clover with a question narrowing all eight eyes. "Sure?"
"Good, then I'll leave her in your capable hands, I have business to attend to."
Turning sharply on his heel, The Radio Demon attempted to make his exit, but Clover wasn't in the mood for his dramatics today; Not anymore.
"Wait- Alastor," Her feet carried her faster than she expected, the heels of her shoes bunching up the carpet behind her as she dashed in front of him. Alastor startled slightly, his eyes widening as they stared down at her while his ears twitched wildly, and she was sure he would have laughed fondly at her feeble attempt to blockade him under other circumstances. "What's happening? Why are you leaving?"
There was a flash of something softer in his eyes before he hardened again, Alastor's jaw tightening with a stubborn grinding of teeth. That moment of tenderness shifted into the facade she'd first encountered in this very room as he cocked his head to one side, his radio shifting into oppressive static as he tutted her. With a soft "pop" Alastor disappeared from his spot looming over her, and Clover spun around to find him standing just outside the open door.
"I'm sorry darling, I must 'take it on the heel and toe' as they say. Your questions will have to wait until I return." Claws twisted around the doorknob as he bent to lean around her, locking eyes with Angel Dust over her shoulder. "I would advise you not to leave the hotel, do you understand?"
"Whateva' you say Smiles."
Alastor hummed in approval, his smile stretching to the limiting parameters of his face as a lively march swelled into life. A final glance was spared for her before he turned, shoulders first, and disappeared from her view in a flutter of coattails.
Stunned and stuck to her spot on the floor, Clover blinked at the space he'd occupied only moments before. An itching irritation was making its way up her spine, twisting around her lungs in a vice that was quickening her breath with every inhale. Something was wrong, obviously, but what bothered her more was that Alastor wasn't letting her in on whatever he was planning, as entirely in his character for the demon as the aggravating turn of events was.
It was a painful subversion of the closeness they'd shared that morning, and Clover couldn't stand it.
"Alastor! Wai-" Her agitated stomping was cut short by a hand on her arm, pulling her back from the open doorway with a grunt.
"Don't worry kid, I've got 'em." Husker placed a heavy hand on her head as he moved past, rolling his shoulders with an audible crack. "Stay put, we'll be back, promise."
With that Husker left her behind with a rustle of feathers, and despite Angel Dust's gentle hands prying for her attention, Clover felt that familiar, agonizing pang of abandonment sink into her chest for the first time since she'd fallen.
"...Uh, toots, what the fuck is goin' on?"
The Radio Demon had, to put it frankly, had enough.
Normally, politics were nothing more than a form of entertainment for a man like Alastor. Overlords came and went, new demons rose to power while others fell further into the so-called fiery pit of failure that was anonymity; The Radio Demon was a constant. While the artificial aristocracy of Pentagram City's sinners played a mere game of checkers with their power, Alastor analyzed the board for the day a worthy opponent would offer a game of higher quality.
That was until that fateful day when things had begun to change. It had been a pleasant surprise when that opponent appeared in the form of friend, rather than foe; A woman of modern sensibilities was the last demon Alastor had ever expected to meet his match in, and yet there she was. A brilliant conversationalist, boldly curious and with an unearthly talent for knowledge that certainly couldn't solely be attributed to the powerful properties of the afterlife, only she offered the form of entertainment that soothed the monotony of Memoriam. It was a greater crime than any other that she'd also dared to be as pretty as the pictures she produced.
Satan, please save him, for Alastor had reached a new level of eternal torment, one he'd not yet learned the name of.
Even so, it was a rare occasion that the Radio Demon stooped to the level of lesser demons, much to the dismay of those of them who dared to demand his attention; Rarer indeed that Alastor took notice of their attempts to persuade him to play. But this time, the error in Vox's code was too dire for even the Radio Demon to ignore. So now he was here, swiftly making his exit from what was turning out to be an enlightening morning to clean up the mess she'd stumbled into before it further soiled the tenderness of her heart.
The Devil be damned, there were darker forces at work with how easily he'd fallen under her spell.
The second set of steps behind him drew his attention to the unlikely form that had decided to shadow him, the feline falling into line as they made their way to the city's center for technological innovation.
"Well now, I don't remember calling for your aid just yet, Husker." Alastor chided, eyes still set straight ahead as his target began to loom over the skyline.
"Cut the crap, Al, I can smell the blood on her. What the fuck happened, ya' didn't hur-"
Husker's accusation was silenced with a screech of tires, the modern automobile's flimsy endoskeleton twisting around the pillar of darkness that had been thrust from the earth between them. Alastor barely missed a step, his neck twisting to stare down the feline.
"I would think about the next word that comes out of that mouth of yours my friend, before the cat no longer has a tongue. Understand?"
With a flicker of green fire, they were off again in static silence, parting the demons that gathered themselves across filthy sidewalks.
"So, which one was it this time?" Husker grumbled beside him as he sped to Alastor's swift pace, standing shoulder to shoulder as the two stopped before a grand skyscraper of glass.
"Velvette, but while she is the cause of this particular incident, even she is not so deranged to go against me of her own accord. I believe it is wise to cut the snake off at the head." The Radio Demon hummed. His head craned back to look up at the excessive displays that spoiled the city's skyline; Grand flickering pictures obscuring the red glow of the setting sun, a mess of overstimulating nonsense to keep the sinners in the city streets at their knees. "You'll keep an eye out, won't you friend?"
With a rustle, Husker spread his rarely-used wings and took to the sky.
There was no time for upholding the proper manner of things, and even if Alastor had cared to follow the average avenues, the man he wanted to see hardly deserved the thought. Alastor nodded kindly to the desk clerk, ignoring her lack of greeting while she scrambled to her feet, before stepping forward into his swarm of shadows. He reappeared thirteen floors up with a soft pop that went entirely unnoticed by the demon whose office he'd so ungraciously entered.
The office of said charlatan was the image of clean-cut, sterile modernity, the furnishings clearly showing off wealth if not taste. The Overlord himself was seated behind a veritable wall of monitors which crowded his glass-top desk, twisting himself idly behind the wide back of a leather chair to look over each one of them. The demon took no notice of the intrusion, too focused on an invasion of another kind as he scrolled through passcodes, profiles, and personal information with a lazy flick of his wrist, all the while humming an incredibly off-tune rendition of the latest chart-topping, mind glazing electronic bastardization of a song the modern world called music.
Unable to stop the twitch that pulled at his eye or the irritated flicking of his ears, The Radio Demon straightened his lapel before announcing himself with a sharp clearing of his throat.
Vox's fidgeting stopped with a squeak of a metal frame, the demon leaning forward in his chair to squint at the red reflection catching in a darkened screen before swinging around to face him with a Cheshire grin.
" r̶̖͠a̶͑͜r̶̡̃ḛ̶̉
pleasure!"
"Rare indeed, but sometimes, one must do what one must."
Alastor sighed static as his microphone returned to the shadows, folding his now free hands behind his back as he began to wander through the corporate wasteland. In a moment of fondness, he wondered how a certain peculiar young woman would describe such a place; Perhaps she'd make some charming film reference and then attempt to explain the visuals, or maybe she'd draw on a fresh portion of knowledge, like architecture or literature, to make sense of it all. The thought was quickly brushed away, Alastor assuring himself that she would never have the chance to view this room through her fragile lens, no matter how amusing it may be to watch her trade verbal blows with his so-called rival once again, and returned to the issue at hand.
"I've come here to discuss the actions of those under your jurisdiction. I shall cut to the chase to keep this short; Velvette has decided to wander dangerously close to the Colony, and has taken it upon herself to invade the privacy of my acquaintances."
"I have no control over Velvette-"
"Nonsense! We all hold some influence over those we are involved with, you certainly had some influence over Valentino when you asked him to kidnap a woman off the street and deliver her to you. Though, with how hair-brained that scheme was, I wouldn't be surprised to find that the idea wasn't yours in entirety." Claws scraped against the top of Vox's desk, leaving deep scars in the glass as he went before grinding the grit of the dust his gloves had collected between his fingers with a curl of his lip. "This conversation will be easier on us both when you stop pretending you do not know why I am here."
The salesman's smile Vox so often wore faded for a moment, almost too fast for any demon without Alastor's keen eye to catch, before it widened once again.
"So, she's still a̵l̷i̸v̷e̵ then?"
The Radio cracked too quickly for Alastor to catch, but he was quick to continue the conversation to cover the lapse in composure.
"Tell me, what was the desired outcome of this particular plan of yours? I can't quite wrap my head around it." The world outside seemed to swim beneath them as Alastor stepped to the window, squinting at his own reflection in the darkened glass. "I may be behind the times, but I doubt a victim would take kindly to the orchestrator of their murder, even by the standards of today's society."
Vox's mechanical laugh turned Alastor's head just enough to catch the flash of blue light in the window as the other Overlord stood, pulling a mechanical cigarette from his jacket pocket. After a long inhale and puff of foul-scented smoke, Vox spoke once again.
"What are you doing here, R̶a̸d̴i̷o̴? You never come to this part of the ring."
"Yes, but that was before you decided to stick your nose where it does not belong."
"All I did was offer the girl a bargain, one she was too stubborn to accept."
Another puff, this time blown in Alastor's direction.
"And you continue to push when she wants nothing to do with you." The Radio Demon hissed, casting aside the smog with a flick of his wrist.
Silence spoke a thousand words, especially where the Radio Demon was concerned, and as the two demons stared each other down across the brutalist battlefield between them, Alastor came to terms that their problems were far from over. Vox's screen flickered and glitched for a moment, a flash of static before the picture returned to reveal that sardonic smile.
"And what does she want to do with you, A̵l̴a̴s̷t̵o̸r̶? Because I could have given her everything in exchange for just a photo or two, and what are you giving her?" Electricity sparked between antennas while he spoke, spiraling off in all directions as he began to pace the length of his desk. "Unless she didn't accept because of y̸o̴u̵.̶"
A squeal of radio feedback echoed off high walls as Alastor barked a laugh, impatient shoes tapping a nonsense rhythm to pass the time as The Radio Demon grew tired of Vox's monologuing.
"Hah! I would enjoy nothing more than watching you struggle to win her over, but she's made her decision on the matter very clear. The girl does not think like other demons, just because you've nothing of note to offer her, that does not imply anything about the relation between us."
Vox paused, his display flickered, and then he turned slowly on his heels while his smile grew at the same painful, pointed bitrate.
"Relationship, you mean? Or- Oh, I see."
With a wave of his palm, the frames that dotted Vox's desk swiveled to face Alastor. Their pictures of black and blue numbers and lines shifted together with a whir before the images changed to something far more sinister.
Her.
As Vox finally stepped out from behind the feigned safety of his desk, Alastor saw a shade of red he'd never quite known what to call. It was a swirling mess of scarlet bloodshed, the blush of a rose in bloom, the last breath of a sunset on the horizon blended into that damned color that had begun to bleed into every aspect of his afterlife. That color now cast a tint of something he'd dare to call rage over her visage as Vox pinched at one of the looping zoetrope images, pulling in closer on an eagle-eyed view of an encounter that he'd further be damned if he'd ever forget.
It was easy to place this moment in the timeline of her afterlife. They'd only just begun to speak, thus the space kept between the two of them was notable, to say the least. This had been his first misstep in allowing himself to become preoccupied with her, but to say he regretted it would be untrue. What else was he to do when speaking to her felt like the first sip of cold water on a summer's day? Her curiosity was intoxicating among the prohibition of entertainment, and Hell's well had gone dry long ago. And now he'd become a poet, apparently, with no doubt of equal thanks to her contagious romanticism and to his own way with words. She'd seemed to have grown incredibly attached to his half-hearted gift by this time, as it was in its near-permanent home on her person. If she hadn't been wearing it, one could have seen the slashes in her blouse made by a recently departed demon, marking the first instance in which she'd proved her tenacity. In this particular still, he stood halfway in the road waiting for her to take his arm. It was the only proper way to escort a lady across a roadway, after all.
It was odd to see himself beside her, and as furious he was that someone such as Vox had easy access to images such as these, it was to be expected of a demon of his caliber. He'd pondered their combined likeness before when she'd made that charming sleight of hand to place the photograph Angel Dust had taken of them into his possession, but seeing it now only made what he'd already gleaned more glaring.
They were utterly opposite, yet complimentary, entirely different shapes cut from the same cloth; A maddening paradox, in his own opinion.
"I can't win her favor, because the one thing she wants is the one thing even I don't have the power to give her." Vox drew his fingers across the screen, leaving behind the crude shape of a heart around the pair of them. "And that's you, Alastor."
"This is ridiculous."
"Is it? Look at her, the little rabbit has a c̶r̷u̷s̸h̴." Vox laughed, pushing in further on her flushing image with a quick pinch. "C'mon o̴l̴d̵ ̸t̴i̴m̴e̵r̷, you're not so behind the times that you can't see that."
Another screen, another image that Vox pushed into intimately, framing another moment between them with an open palm. The sharp heat of discomfort spread across Alastor's stomach, his teeth grinding as he fought to hold back the heat that rose in his throat as he watched his likeness turn to stare down at her as she began to laugh. Another wave of emotion, barely held back by the sharpness of teeth, rose static into his breath and weighed it down into his lungs. She'd looked nearly the same this very morning, a smiling vision of joy sprawled across his lap as if she belonged there; A stark contrast to the wide-eyed panic that Vox caused.
It was pointless to continue dwelling on such things, what had already been done could not be undone now. Besides, he didn't need to recount the pictures of the past, for you've seen this all before; Haven't you, dear listeners?
His fingers tightened around nothing, his claws pressing dangerously close to the breaking point as he fought back the unyielding urge to smite the bastard where he stood. Instead, he focused on whatever ridiculous diatribe Vox was currently attempting to set upon him.
"She c̷a̴r̷e̷s̶ for you, and you care for her, otherwise why would you be here? You've never intervened before, you're not in a contract with her, so why? What is it about this demon, t̸h̸i̸s̷ ̷g̸i̷r̷l̶, that keeps you coming back?"
It was becoming increasingly difficult to control the frequency of his own radio as Alastor watched the past repeat itself, feeling it fight against his will as the image pulled out just enough to show the both of them, to catch the slow turn of her eyes up to him and to allow him to read the words from her lips.
"We are still friends, aren't we?"
And when she looked at him with a softness he'd once thought he would never see such a genuine display of again, all was lost.
The Radio squealed a noise almost human, a blending of altered frequency and music that scrambled the input of Vox's computing devices. The demon himself became frazzled, the flat planes of his face dissolving into scattered fractals, but the effect was sadly short-lived.
"Is T̶h̵e̶ ̴R̴a̵d̷i̸o̸ ̴D̸e̴m̷o̸n̸ in l̸o̷v̵e̵, after all this time?" Vox stepped further away from the sanctuary of his desk, his brow twisted in a shallow interest that only refined Alastor's rage. "Perhaps we can find a b̶e̶t̴t̶e̸r̶ ̵u̶s̶e̴ for her after all."
Alastor's eye twitched, and his already thinning facade shattered. A particularly painful high-pitched peal of feedback erupted from his microphone as it reappeared between bloodied palms, sending spiraling spiderwebs of hairline fissures across the walls fortifying Vox's glass castle.
Surveying the damage, the Overlord's screen split into a smug smile.
"Hit a n̸e̶r̶v̵e̸ there, didn't I?"
The Radio Demon laughed, tapping the floor with his microphone as he turned away from the conversation with a wide sweeping of his arms.
"Please, the only thing you're capable of hitting is new lows." It was difficult to keep the tenor of his voice level, amplifying it to its extent in an attempt to veil the crackling creole that was attempting to come through. "This conversation has gone off the tracks, and in an attempt to avoid the trainwreck that is sure to come if you maintain control, I will say only this on the matter; You will leave her alone."
"My my, it seems this tin man does have a heart, ̸h̷o̶w̷ ̴q̶u̶a̴i̷n̷t̶!"
Vox let out another billow of smoke, tucking the device back into his breast pocket before he began a slow, measured stroll towards The Radio Demon. The demon stopped his peacocking when they became parallel, Vox's antenna sparking energetically as he leaned in close, too close, into Alastor's side.
"She's changed you A̸l̶a̶s̵t̷o̶r̵,̵ as all good women do." Vox cuffed him on the shoulder, too hard to be friendly. The sharp downtown of his projected smile when The Radio remained unmoved was almost enough to end the itching of Alastor's skin beneath his clothing until the scoundrel further pushed his luck by leaning into Alastors face. "I wonder what you'd become without her."
Speakers sputtered and wheezed as Vox was snatched by the throat, The Radio Demon dragging him closer until his nose pressed against buzzing glass. His voice doubled, each slowly spoken syllable vibrating into the depths of wires and waves that held them together with its static growl.
Alastor spoke slowly, for he wanted his intentions to be utterly clear.
"Touch her again, and I shall stomp you out like the cockroach you are."
All was still for a moment aside from the steady rise and fall of Alastor's chest, each hard breath casting a fog across Vox's frozen frame. Red flashed white as Vox's eyes refocused in their proximity, disappearing with a blink to stare down at the arm Alastor had put between them before returning them to The Radio Demon's own.
"Oh, will you now?" Vox's speech was garbled, cut by the hedonistic smile he wore. A spark of electricity snapped between them as Alastor cast him aside, the burn of skin a welcomed distraction from the sick twist of hunger that was sending spirals across Vox's screen. "I would love to see you try, A̸l̶a̶s̵t̷o̶r̵,̵ so go ahead and b̸r̶e̵a̴k̵ ̴me, I can handle you in a way that frail little thing nev-"
Alastor dropped Vox like the live wire he was, his claws dancing with electricity. The sparking small screen cackled a metallic laugh that glitched like the grinding of metal as he fell back into his desk, his tie askew across his heaving chest.
"I've waited for the day that you finally decide to meet your match." Deft claws curled beneath the desk with the soft click of a button and if Alastor had the mind to he would have rolled an eye at the cry for help.
"The only match for you resides in a box."
"You know this would not end well for you, right R̴a̷d̴i̸o̸? Now, in a one-on-one fight, perhaps you could take me out. You are powerful, I won't deny that. But you're alone, Alastor - always too proud to ally, and look where it's left you. Now all you have are some wayward stray souls you string along, none of which are a match for me, and I have two other Overlords backing me."
"Has the little incident at your paramour's filthy club not taught you not to underestimate my associates, or hers for that matter? She has forged more truly fortified alliances in her short time here than that overheated circuit board of yours could ever fathom, and underestimating her would be a grave error indeed. Besides, if it comes to it, I can and will destroy everything you've built, brick," A shattering of glass punctuated each syllable as Alastor twisted his claws into his palm, summoning forth dark tendrils that twisted around the technicolor windows scattered across Vox's altar of technology. "By brick."
Darkness fell upon them both as shadows cast themselves across the room, consuming its halogen bulbs with a gnashing of teeth and painting the cracking windows with a thick wash of ink. The flickering remains of Vox's computers gave little light to the room, only succeeding in adding the shadows of their corpses to the fray. Reflected in the blue glow of Vox's television screen, The Radio Demon saw his own inner light wavering like a flame. With a sickening crack of bone, he felt himself begin to grow and twist into his true demonic form, bending himself over the glitching demon before him.
"̵D̷o̵ ̴y̵o̶u ̶u̷n̶d̷e̷rs̵t̷an̴d̷?̶"̶
Vox's flat screen betrayed him for a moment, a flash of genuine fear crossing his features before his expression quickly shifted into what Alastor recognized with a sickened grimace as desire. The channel changed to a breaking signal, the bars and codes molding themselves into shapes beyond human recognition before settling on their new numerical caricature composition of the media demon's face. An eerie crackling emitted from the demon as his body too began to shift, muscle and cables alike writhing underneath carbon-fiber skin as Vox shed his comical display-like form for something more monstrous. The voice that came from the growing mass of fiber optics revealed the true nature of Vox's form, the broken and slurring taunt vacant of the showmanship he so often pretended to possess.
"̷̢̢̪̥̜͕̙̐̐̑Õ̶̢̟͎̪̹̓͛̅͝h̶̰̽͑́̓,̴̘̳̈́̑̓̾ ̶̨̥̒̋̉š̶̢̡̨̪̦́̐͠o̸͚͖̩͎͚̔̾͜ͅ ̴͎̮͚̲̤͛̇̑i̴̳̺͕͓͍̐͋͒ͅt̷̩͇͕͎̆͝'̷̛̮̯͉̹̪̝̻͛͛̇̋s̷͇͔̄̈́̔ ̷̡̗͇̣̳͠p̵̡̛͈̖͐ḷ̵̯̯̦̬̥̫̒̂̌͑a̴̱̽̒̍y̵̡͚̝̖͈͈̣͐͐͌̈̀͗̐ţ̵̰͍̭̙̾̓i̵̦̫̠̬̇͂͑̚m̶͈͋́̑ȅ̵̹̼̦ ̷̺̟̿̔͆̈́͊n̸̥̙͌͝ó̴̧̢̜͚̘͓̈́́͊̾w̵̞̓̋,̸̱͖̹͔̭̘̮̀ ̶̢́̌̓͊̊̀͆h̷͉̪̮͚̺̮̉̓̉̇̂̃͐ǔ̵̥̭͘h̶̰̦̝̗̍̀̉̉͠?̷̨̨̘̣͔́̈̑̇͑̀ ̶͈̣̪̹͈̪̂̋G̶̲͌͐̎̊͝o̴͖̯̱̳͗͛̔́͜ ̷̫̲̞̼̇̀͑͠à̷̺͕̘̦̟̻͂͝ͅḦ̵̳̦́ẻ̷̢̛̦̜̤̖͌̐̈́͠Ä̶̘͎̩͔͚́̀̽̉͝ḑ̴̝̣̩̙͇͓͑͠!̸͙͙͎̎̈́̅͜"̵͚̐͌ͅ
A snapping of wire against stone cut through the dial tones that followed, The Radio Demon deftly dodging the whip that sought to bind him. Vox rose above him, lifted by the thick set of cables that sprung from his spine, and his fallen silver screens rose up in kind. Noise filled the air, the hot wavering of Radio energy colliding with a buzzing snowfall to create a hissing mist of distortion that stood out against wavering shadows. One of the many makeshift marionettes Vox created from broken computer screens lunged at the Radio Demon with a mechanical screech, a move which would otherwise be regarded as child play by a demon such as Alastor, but the projection playing on its broken plasma caught him by surprise. Frayed wires caught the sleeve of his coat, sparking flame against the fabric and snapping him back into line.
Her image flickered and died as Alastor crushed the puppet beneath his heel, and he nearly swooned at the flicker of electric fury that danced along his spine.
Another extension of Vox's cords came at him, lunging for the throat with outstretched claws of broken glass; This time The Radio Demon had been ready for it. His microphone met the flimsy plastic backing of its screen with a resounding thud, sending the beast into the pools of shadows beyond the liminal space between audio and visual.
"̷A̷l̶ll ̸thi̷s̴ talk ̵o̷f̷ ̵t̴a̵k̴i̸n̶g̵ ̶m̶e̴ ̵o̷n̸ ̷y̸o̴urself ̷a̶n̴d̶ ̵y̵o̶u̶'̵v̶e̴ ̵r̷e̵s̴ultt̴e̴d̷ ̵t̶o̴ ̷p̵ush̶i̴n̸g̴ ̷p̷awns̵,̴" The Radio Demon hissed as his smile grew wider, stretching his skin so taut it began to weep in protest."Ho̵w̷ ̷e̶m̵b̵a̶rassi̶n̸g̵.̶"̶
The vibrations of Alastor's amplification further fractured their surroundings, but the shattering of glass came from another. A flurry of fur and feather barreled into the next opponent Vox had risen against them with a yowl, a near-shapeless mass of media that groaned weakly as it bashed into the floor. Distracted by the arrival of another of Alastor's allies, Vox moved too slowly to avoid The Radio Demon as he charged. Twisting bone collided with metal as the two Overlords combined and combust, setting the room alight with the spark they created. In the flashing lights of their grabbling, Alastor caught a glimpse of Husker at his side, his spine twisted and hunched as he tore through yet another straw doll of synthetics that had attempted to interfere.
Cold metal met the bare skin of Alastor's arms with a flash of electricity that rattled the Radio's frequency, and through gnashing teeth came the warning bellow of another bayou beast before Vox was torn from his port. The Radio Demon reared back, tossing the metal man over his shoulder with a shake of his head before twisting on his heels to face him. A new flash of disgust churned his stomach when he found the other demon in pieces, cackling a corrupted laugh as he staggered to his feet.
"̴D̴o̶e̷s̶ ̴s̵h̴e̷ ̶k̵n̷o̵w̴ ̷t̵h̶e̶ ̸r̶e̷a̴l̶ ̶y̸o̴u̴?̷ ̴̡̋H̸̻̕ ̷H̶a̵s̵ ̸s̴h̷e̵ ̴s̷e̴e̶n̶ ̷t̵h̸i̶s̸ ̸s̶i̴d̵e̷ ̵o̸f̸ ̶y̵o̵u̵,̸ ̶A̴l̴a̷s̴t̷o̵r̷?̸ D̸̼́ȍ̸̦e̵͉̔s̷͇̒ ̴̹̕s̵͉̅h̶͈͌e̸̾ͅ ̴̛̱c̷̮͗r̸̜̀ȧ̴̜v̶̥͗e̴̻͑ ̶͖͂ǐ̸̜t̶͎̑ ̶͓̔t̶̞͂ḥ̸͑é̵͎ ̸͇̋w̴̧̉a̸͖͗y̷̙̽ ̷̟̂Ĭ̴ͅ ̷͈̕d̴͎̐ơ̵̞?̷̭̊"̵̑͜ Vox wheezed, twisting a length of wire around his wrist with a wry smile. "̷S̷h̸e̵ ̶w̶i̵l̸l̷ ̴n̴e̷v̸e̶r̸ ̴s̸e̸e̷ ̷t̶h̴e̴ ̴r̶e̸a̷l̷ ̷y̶o̴u̶ ̶t̷h̶e̶ ̶w̵a̸y̷ ̷I̶ ̷d̷o̷.̵"̸
Teeth met the soft skin of Alastor's wrist, tearing into the vein and bringing forth a new light into the darkness. Red sigils flickered with the growing power of magic beyond the realm of demonic beings, dancing among the shadows that surged forward with renewed vigor, making way for the hissing form of Husker as the demon gave room for what he knew was to come;
Through a mouthful of blackened blood, Alastor laughed.
"Run."
Hello readers, I have decided to continue posting on this platform, I will just have to weight my options with posting certain scenes due to the guidelines of . I know some people like this platform, and since I was asked to continue posting here, and have received notifications that people are following this story, I have decided to continue. I am far more active on AO3(corruptedteacups), and reply to every comment, as well as have art, give links the Discord, and to this Fanfiction's Spotify playlists
Thank you to everyone who has followed and leaves reviews, they are super appreciated and they do loads to keep me posting on this platform.