Chapter Text
The story so far:
Vox and Valentino are the Pride Ring’s most infamous power couple—and its most volatile. Fortunes have been made and lost betting on when they’ll break up or get back together after their latest very public, very online spat. Lately, though, Vox has seemed tired and strained; a little jumpy, more than a little short-tempered (well, more short-tempered than he usually is). Not enough that anyone would notice—unless Valentino was ranting about it to them. And Angel Dust is getting tired of listening to Val ranting about how his boyfriend “isn’t fun anymore.”
If he had his way, Angel would stay out of it. Vox isn’t his concern, and he couldn’t give a damn about whatever stupid self-inflicted psychodrama Vox is going through. But when Vox is acting weird, Val’s unhappy. And when Val’s unhappy, Val’s employees are even unhappier. And unless Angel gets to the bottom of just what’s eating at Vox, Val’s going to start making Angel’s life, specifically, even unhappier than it already is.
But Vox is an unusually busy man, meaning there’s only one place you can be sure to find him: his dressing room at Vox Multimedia Tower, shortly before his nightly broadcast.
Angel is only headed there today to head off a potential disaster. Not because he’s worried.
Don’t be stupid. Why would he be worried about someone as fucked-up as the TV Demon?
You’re being ridiculous.
~*~
[A TV studio: bustling techs, moving equipment, chatter (both distinct and indistinct) about preparations for tonight’s show.]
[The click-click-click of Angel’s high-heeled boots becomes more distinct as he makes his way across the smooth floor.]
Floor Manager: Hey, you can’t be back here!
Angel: Aw, keep yer pants on, Dave. See these roses? [They rustle as he gives them a light shake.] Special delivery for Mistah Vox from Mistah Valentino.
Floor Manager: I wasn’t informed about this.
Angel: Yeah, well, that’s Val for ya. Sooner ya let me deliver this shit, sooner I’m outta your hair. Capisce?
Floor Manager: [a heavy sigh, but he really doesn’t have time for this] Fine. But hurry up. Mr. Vox is on in twenty.
Angel: Yeah, I’ll be quick.
[Angel’s footsteps start up again. The bustle fades out until it’s barely a whisper behind the clicking of his heels.]
[It vanishes completely as he knocks on a metal door.]
Vox: [muffled, from inside] I know what time it is, Dave! Now fuck off and go make yourself usef—
Angel: It’s me, Vox.
[a short pause]
Vox: [softer, surprised] Angel?
Angel: Yup.
Vox: [all-business] What do you want?
Angel: How about you open the door and find out?
Vox: I do not have time for your antics now.
Angel: Well, I don’t got time for you bein’ a moody bastard now, either, so I guess we’re even.
[A pause. Distant sounds of the studio’s goings-on.]
Vox: [sigh] Fine.
[Muffled footsteps. The door swings open.]
Vox: Yes? [oozing sarcasm] Ooh. Roses. How lovely. [all-business again] If this is how your boss thinks he can buy back my affection—
Angel: They ain’t from Val.
Vox: So who raided the last-chance section at V-Mart for them?
Angel: Wasn’t like I could make a fuckin’ appointment with your receptionist.
Vox: I cannot believe this.
[The door swings shut. It hits against something.]
Vox: [voice cracking into the staticky, oscillating tones of the TV Demon] Don’t think I won’t crush your goddamn kinky-booted foot—
Angel: Look. Just—five minutes. Five minutes. Then I’m gone.
Vox: [his voice is back to normal now] And you’ll stay that way?
Angel: You think I wanna spend my day off in some noisy studio gettin’ my foot smashed inna door? At least when I’m on the clock I get paid for shit like that.
[That gets a begrudging snort of laughter from Vox.]
Vox: Fine. Five minutes. That’s all the time I have to spare.
[The door swings open again. Angel’s footsteps enter. The door closes behind him.]
Vox: Clock’s ticking, Angel.
Angel: [A huff of breath] So, I know how this is gonna sound, but…are you okay?
Vox: [snorts] Am I okay.
Angel: I’m not asking for— It’s not what you think. When you an’ Val are on the outs—
Vox: Yeah. He’s impossible to deal with. I know. Better than anyone, I know.
Angel: It’s just that you’re lookin’ kinda nervous lately and—
Vox: Why would I be nervous? The company’s fine. The city’s fine. Hell’s fine. Val’s fine. Vel’s fine. Everything’s fine.
[Glitching, crackling.]
Angel: Your screen’s doing the, uh—
Vox: I’m the strong one. I’m not burdened.
I’m as sharp as the jolt of a current.
[High, loud voltage.]
Angel: …okay?
Vox: I am grounded, I don’t flounder.
And I love when I hear the sweet sound of—
[Canned applause and laughter, loud enough as to be obvious that they’re emanating from Vox himself.]
Angel: I mean, yeah, who doesn’t li—
Vox: I drive commerce, every service.
And I know how to flow and observe this.
My money and power, it grows by the hour,
I run this whole show from my throne in my tower—
But!
Under my flatscreen,
I feel unclean as a bum in a slum behind the chic mean scene.
Under my circuits,
Was an inverter ever like, no, I don’t wanna convert this.
Under my wires, I’m pretty sure I’m tired,
I’m pretty sure I’m mired.
A chip or a crack,
It’s not white or black.
What strains the cable’s slack
What strains the cable’s slack is
Pressure like a zap zap zap and it never stops, woah.
Pressure like a snap snap snap 'til you just shut off, woah-oh-oh-oh.
Give it all to Voxxy ’cause Voxxy’s strong,
He can run on ohms and joules all day long.
Who am I if I can’t handle it all?
If I fall to
Pressure like a crack, crack, crack, and it never slows, woah.
Pressure like a slap, slap, slap and it never shows, woah-oh-oh-oh.
Give it all to Voxxy ’cause he works hard
And doesn’t ever flinch or show his cards.
Who am I if I can’t catch every ball?
If I falter
Behind my servers, I try to serve
And I worry something will get too close and hurt us.
Behind my servers,
The stocks never swerve ’cause I know how sharp the quarter’s curve is.
Under my servers, I know I must preserve this.
Can I somehow divert this?
Line up the cams and drones
Against the sticks and stones.
You try to see it coming
But on and on it goes.
But wait,
If I could break this crushing weight of machinations….
Would that free me up for some joy,
Some self-reflection, simple affection?
Instead I measure, this deep displeasure.
It’s growing, and owning
’Cause all I know is
Pressure like a zap zap zap that’ll never stop, woah.
Pressure like a snap snap snap 'til you just shut off, woah-oh-oh-oh
Throw your rage at Voxxy, it doesn't hurt him.
Make him handle every single goddamned burden.
Watch as he bows and he scrapes but never breaks.
[Loud crackle of electricity. Glass shattering. The shrill of a TV going off air.]
Angel: Oh shit. Vox?
[His heels click as he takes a step forward.]
Vox: I WON’T BREAK.
From pressure like a like a snap, snap, snap and it never slows, woah.
Pressure like a slap, slap, slap and it never shows, woah-oh-oh-oh.
Give it all to Voxxy and never wonder
If the same pressure would tear you asunder.
Who am I if I make one mistake?
Not. One. Re. Take.
No retakes.
No pressure.
[Silence. Only heavy breathing from Vox. He sounds pained. Staticky.]
Angel: Um….
Vox: So there it is. It’s all under control. [Softer, maybe to himself.] Because it has to be.
Angel: I, uh. I see. Oh. Uh.
[Sounds of a large glass shard being picked up from a hard floor: a piece of Vox’s screen.]
Angel: This fell out of your. Um. Here. Better let me—
Vox: I’m perfectly able to—
Angel: No. Here. [softer] Let me do it.
[Vox just sighs, resigned. Or is that just a little bit of relief?]
[The glass snaps back into place. Soft sounds like a wound knitting back together.]
Angel: There. All better.
Vox: Yeah.
[Silence.]
[A knock on the door.]
Floor Manager: [muffled] Five minutes, Mr. Vox.
Vox: Thank you, Dave. I’ll be right there.
[retreating footsteps]
Angel: Vox, I just w—
Vox: We didn’t have this conversation, Angel. Do not make me repeat myself.
[Footsteps moving away.]
Angel: Wait.
[Vox stops walking.]
Angel: It wasn’t the last-chance section.
[a brief pause]
Vox: Ask Dave to take you to Props, after the show starts. They’ll give you a vase.
[his footsteps retreat down the hall.]
[Angel sighs.]
Angel: What if I told ya you didn’t haveta do this alone?