A/N: this is only a preview of the story, more on my AO3 under the same name.
1960
Vox has been in Hell for a decade already and is slowly building up the Television industry, but it wasn't gaining notoriety as quickly as he thought it would get after so many years. He barely had any idea of how he could build it up faster. He knew how to run news programs well from his work up top as a news anchor. However, still, he needed something else, something more interesting to draw in the attention of the Sinner populous since the basic news stories weren't cutting it, especially with the Overlord that ran the radio waves down here, who was broadcasting his own form of entertainment for the citizens of Hell in the form of carnage and screams. A couple of years after his death, Vox became acquainted with said demon, who went by the title of the Radio Demon but was formally known as Alastor, which Vox quickly learned was his idol in life as he grew up listening to his radio broadcasts in his younger years until Alastor disappeared from the radio waves. Although he slowly becomes friends with the Radio Demon, he isn't very helpful in assisting him in building his empire, especially with the demon's preference for radio, while making it clear that he disliked any technology that came after his death in the early 1930s.
Vox had made several passes at the Radio Demon in the time he had known him but did not result in as much success as he would have thought it would, but it did help an alliance to develop between the men due to their mutual craving for some form of entertainment and power. There were the rare times at the end of an evening out at a jazz club that they would end up back at the Radio tower or Vox's studio, both way too drunk to discuss any form of business, but if anything happened between them in those times, it was a secret that Vox kept in his own memory to keep from enraging the other demon and causing either his second death or an end to any chances of a companionship to form. There were times when those memories were what comforted him on lonely nights in his studio.
One evening, Vox decided to give himself a well-deserved break from planning the next day's news stories for the third time in the last hour and working on ideas for his side technology company projects. He knew he had been overworking himself a lot lately and needed to unwind and rest his box TV head before he blew another fuse this week; he has learned quickly that it is pretty difficult to change something when it is literally a part of your own head and trying to repair the problem yourself could result in your eyesight being turned off, making repairs almost impossible. He wanted to finally impress his friend with his ability to provide splendid entertainment and draw in an audience, but he still hadn't succeeded as of yet; he remained determined to do so but needed something more than what he had to get the viewership numbers up but still unsure what kind of things would get him to achieve his goal.
Vox sighs as he gets up from his office chair and stretches out his stiff back, which causes the wires to creak and crackle in his back. Over the decade, he has learned about some of the changes that came with his death other than his head now being a television set, such as a lot of his body was made up of wiring instead of veins and arteries. He also learned he had the ability to have wires coming out of his back and use them as he saw fit; he could also transform himself into electricity and go into the set cameras or television screens to move around the city as needed. However, he only really uses that to move around the studio when he is too tired to walk, also due to the fact he doesn't know where he would end up going if he moved around the Pentagram, especially outside of the district he lived in, where he didn't know all the places that had some of his technology for him to jump in and out of. He knew there had to be more things he could do with this body, and he craved that knowledge to increase his power but knew he would have to continue experimenting with his new body to achieve it.
He heads up to his private apartment above the station via the monitors in the studio, stepping out seconds later from the television set in his bedroom in a spark of electricity, deciding he should change into something more casual outfit for his outing. He had decided he would go to one of the few speakeasies Alastor had informed him about at their last meeting a few weeks ago when he inquired about some good places in the Pentagram for social interaction.
Vox walks to his closet, removes his suit as he opens the door, and places it in the hamper to dry clean it the following day. He changes into a more comfortable pair of navy blue pants and a yellow ribbed turtleneck and pairs the outfit with a black jacket and his usual black dress shoes. Once satisfied with his outfit choice, he moves out of his bedroom and heads out into the living room area to the front door, almost forgetting to grab his top hat from the coatrack and place it on his head, only adjusting it enough to allow his antennas to feed through the openings in the top as a spark of electricity bounces between them.
Leaving his apartment, Vox chooses to walk down the couple flights of stairs in the back stairwell that lead from his apartment to the ground floor of the news studio he called home, with the option of exiting into the studio or into a side alleyway instead of using electrokinetic transformation with the wiring to get himself downstairs faster. He sometimes enjoys walking around, but tonight, he needed it to clear his head from everything he needed to accomplish.
He exits the stairwell into the alleyway, locking the back door behind him with a finger that sends a spark of electricity into the locking mechanisms of the door; he looks up above the door at the weird-looking contraption that looks like a lens from a camera was attached to a metallic box. In the last two years, Vox had begun tinkering with materials he found in Hell to create security objects or any other electronic devices that would never be invented on Earth, at least not for another couple of years or decades. His abilities with electricity and tinkering with things in life were beneficial in creating the locks and security cameras he had all over his studio; if he wanted to become an Overlord, he had to have some form of security methods already in place. Although he was making devices for his side company, they were all just prototypes for his use until he felt that they would work adequately enough to sell to the Citizens of Hell as another way to gain influence and power.
Vox makes his way out of the alleyway, hands in his jacket pockets as he turns onto the sidewalk, avoiding the pools of blood or Sinner corpses from recent disagreements as he went, not wanting to dirty his nice shoes. The speakeasy wasn't that far from where he resided, still within the limits of the Entertainment District that he secretly claimed as his turf, knowing that none of the Overlords had tried to claim this area yet; he was initially surprised that Alastor didn't claim it due to his love for entertainment, but it seemed another district suited his fancy more. Without the looming threat of losing the territory to the Radio Demon, it just gave Vox more determination to grow his power and claim Overlord status to take the district officially.
It didn't take long for Vox to arrive at this small brick building that looked more like an office complex than a building that had housed a club inside; there was no noise or even lights to hint at what this place was, and the only indication that there could possibly be something more going on inside was the tall muscular Hellhound standing in front of the metal door; guarding it. As Vox approached the Hound, he was fully ready to speak his name and try to prove to the Hound that he was of some higher social status, although he was still just a lowly Sinner. Vox is hopeful that this night out might help him find something to give him an idea of how to increase his viewership around Pride and further increase his status.
The Hound looked at Vox from square head to toe before moving aside, pushing the door open, grunting, and tilting his head towards the inside, granting him access to the speakeasy inside.
Vox smirked as he entered the establishment, the door slamming closed behind him a second later. He liked this feeling of being recognized, most likely from the news he broadcasts daily, even if they weren't that popular, at least from what his reports say. It was a compelling feeling; he wanted that attention and recognition to become more consistent, especially outside of this District.
He continues down the long hallway, following the sounds of music playing while admiring the memorabilia from the past half-century of performers littering the hallway walls. He recognized many of the images of the actors, actresses and singers from his time, and seeing this gave him an idea.
"That is a wonderful idea… maybe if I can get some decent demons to work for me to make motion pictures and sing, then I can improve my presence in Hell and finally get the appreciation and recognition I deserve." Vox thought as he walked into the large open area of the club from the open door at the end of the hall.
Vox looked around the speakeasy when he stopped a couple of feet from the doorway so as not to obstruct anyone else coming in behind him. He noticed that the interior was much larger than it appeared from the exterior of the building. He sees crowds of Sinners seated at the many tables around the room, and those who couldn't get a table were sitting at one of the two bars or leaning against the bar top. The aesthetic of this place reminded him of the 1920s and early 1930s, which explained why Alastor spoke so highly of this place. The entertainment was mainly a band playing onstage with an occasional singer; the current singer on the stage was one he knew only because his friend had pointed her out to him before, saying it was someone he knew personally from his time on earth.
Vox sat on a stool at the far end of the bar and ordered himself a whiskey to enjoy while listening to the band playing a calm melody after the singer ended her song. He needed to think if there was anyone he knew in Hell that could fit the bill to be a part of his plan, but every demon he'd met thus far didn't fit in any of the criteria he had in mind for any in front of the camera performances either in motion pictures or singing even the singer that just left the stage, due to not wanting to mix a friend of Alastor's into his plan; there was a too high of a chance that if he did that it would backfire on him. He looks around at all the demons in the bustling club, but without hearing them speak or act, there is no way to get any insight into how they would fit apart from appearances.
"Fuck… this is harder than I thought. I can't just go by looks alone for this; if I pick the wrong people, I will never reach my goal and become a laughingstock of Hell in the process…I'd be just begging for my second death at that point." Looking down at his half-drunk whiskey, Vox began to think when a sweet, angelic sound reached his speaker-like ears.
Vox looks up from his drink and over to the stage to see a tall, beautiful creature standing in front of the microphone, wearing a pink and black flapper dress and heels while swaying their hips to the music; if he didn't know any better, he would have thought from the voice alone that it was a real angel on the stage singing, but the lack of wings and halo plus the apparent fact that they were both in Hell proved that it was a Sinner.
The Spider was singing like a siren at sea, hypnotizing their prey to their death just by the sound of their voice; Vox was looking at the Spider but was also listening in on the loud conversation between two male Imps in the seats beside him, captivated by the Spider Sinner as well.
"Angel is so hot, I wouldn't mind getting my hands on him for a night. I wonder if he would be an angel or a devil in the sheets." The one Imp purred, practically drooling, looking at the stage.
The other Imp laughed, rolling his eyes at the other one, "You really think that hot piece of Spider ass will ever want to touch you. He's perfection, and you are garbage in comparison."
Both Imps begin to laugh before taking a swig of their drinks; what they failed to see was Vox's one hand lowering from the bar countertop to his metal chair, sending a current of electricity from his clawed fingertips down to the floor and making contact with both of the Imp's swinging tails.
Both Imps quickly jump up from their seats, screaming from the shock shooting up their small bodies, which draws the attention of one of the large Hellhounds that acted as security, who, after hearing the commotion, decided to approach and grab both Imps by their horns to drag them out of the way he came in.
Vox had turned his head to watch the scene play out with a smirk behind the glass of whiskey he was drinking, now able to enjoy it without hearing others being disrespectful about someone he might have under his employment shortly. His undivided attention returned to the stage right when the music ended, hopeful he could catch the Spider Sinner before he left.
"Angel was the name those imps said when talking about that Spider, a fitting name for such a beautiful being both in appearance and voice." Vox thought to himself, admitting the Spider's beauty while he was still on stage.
To Vox's surprise, after Angel finishes his song and enjoys the applause from the patrons, instead of going backstage as all the other performers did, he goes to the stairs at the edge of the stage and down onto the club floor, looking from side to side. He interacts with a few of the Sinners, who approach him to say a few words before Angel waves them off with a smile. He continues on his way after the interactions, heading towards the bar. It appears that he is looking for someone in specific but can't seem to locate them.
Vox watched as Angel approached the bar and sat beside him in the seat that the annoying Imp recently vacated as the bartender slid an old fashion into one of Angel's awaiting hands. Vox caught the bartender mumbling 'not tonight' to the Spider, who only sighed and nodded in response before taking a sip of his drink.
Angel puts his glass down and turns his head towards Vox, smiling sweetly since he noticed the television sinner has been following him with his eyes since he left the stage. "You new around here, sugar? I haven't seen you around the Pentagram."
Vox felt his screen heating up and knew it wasn't from the alcohol running through him but from the attractiveness of the Spider beside him and being caught staring, "No, I've been here for a decade already. I just needed a night out without dealing with the stress of my business. also, a friend recommended this place." Vox tried not to glitch out his words but suddenly felt stupid when he realized he didn't mention his name to the other demon; his embarrassment showed on his screen in the form of glitchy red spots where his cheeks would be, "I'm Vox, by the way."
Angel chuckles from the blush-like redness on Vox's screen, "It's nice to meet you, Vox; I'm Angel Dust."
Vox smiled as the redness subsided slightly, "The pleasure is all mine, Angel; you sing very beautifully, if I might add."
"Thank you. I've been at this speakeasy for quite a long time, so I have to be good at something to be here still." Angel chuckles before taking a sip of his drink.
Vox raises a pixelated eyebrow, "What do you mean? If I may ask, when did you fall?"
Looking down at his cup on the counter, Angel sighed, one question he didn't like to answer due to regretting his death that led him here. "I fell in 1947 after a PCP overdose. It was tainted with other drugs that didn't react well together, which also made it more lethal, even in small doses. What about you, Vox?" Angel asked quickly to turn it back on Vox without looking up from the cup.
Vox looked at Angel, shocked that the Spider had only fallen three years before him. He felt envious and angry towards this demon. Although Angel fell only three years prior, he still attracted more attention and quickly became known by the citizens of Hell, Sinner, and Hellborn, unlike him. He could feel his electricity sparking, especially between his antennas; he didn't want to hurt anyone, so he tried to calm down enough before someone got injured by the stray sparks, which would tarnish his already low reputation.
Once he calmed enough, he answered the question Angel was patiently waiting for, "I didn't fall much after you; I fell in 1950 by a freak electrical accident."
Angel looks at him sympathetically, "That's horrible, Vox. Anything I can do to help you feel better about being in Hell?"
Vox smiles more genuinely at the beautiful Spider, having the warm feeling resurfacing from the emotion in Angel's eyes and offering to help, but this time, it was more in his chest than his TV head. He could tell that Angel would be perfect to help him achieve his vision of building his entertainment empire with motion pictures and adding musical accompaniment to Vox's news broadcasts.
"Well, maybe you could help; how would you feel about acting and singing for me? I run VoxTek studios in the Entertainment District and need a beautiful face and voice for some motion pictures. I think you would be perfect," Vox asked nervously, offering his hand to shake.
Angel pushes Vox's hand away with the back of one of his upper hands before speaking to the shorter demon, "I greatly appreciate the offer, Vox and would like to accept your offer, but I don't shake hands. Shaking hands in Hell can be dangerous."
Vox was confused about Angel's comment, as it was evident on his television screen when pixel question marks came to the screen, "Why is that? What's so dangerous about a handshake?"
Angel smiles and takes the last sip of his drink before answering, "I learned from someone I know that shaking hands down here tends to mean making a deal with an Overlord where they help you get what you desire, but you lose your soul, and you're on their beck and call for all eternity until your second death or theirs. That is how Overlords grow in power. It's all about how many souls they hold."
Vox is intrigued by this new information and how this will help him get the power he wants, but he has to continue hiding what his true intentions are, at least for now; once he's better known in Hell and gains Overlord status, then he can inform his newly formed muse.
"That is very interesting, Angel; I will keep that in mind so I don't fall into someone's trick," Vox said, although he planned to do the opposite by getting others to fall into a deal with him.
Angel nods as he gets up, "Well, Vox, it was nice, but I need to get back to doing my work; I will come back down when I can to continue our conversation and get everything arranged."
Vox nods as Angel walks away to talk with other patrons and performers in the club before returning backstage to prepare himself for his next song.
"This is quite interesting; Angel is more than just a pretty face, he also has the brains. Maybe he can help me with everything in both parts of Voxtek, even the technology side." Vox thought to himself as he flagged down the bartender for another whiskey and continued to watch his new muse and possible business partner.
For the remainder of the evening, every time Angel had a chance in between getting the signal to get back on stage for his songs, he would come out and sit at the edge of the bar talking with Vox. They would talk about different things as they got to know each other more and talk about what Vox had in mind for the productions, but they also kept some information about their lives topside and plans in Hell secret from the other to prevent ruining anything before it could even begin.
Unfortunately, when the evening came to an end, and the speakeasy was closing up, Vox had this weird feeling inside him growing more than before, and he did not want the night to end even if they would be working together. He invited Angel back to his apartment above his production studio using the excuse that they would need to start production the following morning. After returning to the studio and more alcohol was consumed by the two of them, things escalated into something of a more sexual and passionate nature where they both fell asleep in Vox's bed, fully naked and wrapped in a blanket while Vox was holding Angel to his side in his sleep.
This was the beginning of a bright future they both envisioned, although the futures they both saw for themselves were vastly different. But only time will tell what will happen since, in Hell, not everything is what it seems.