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Vox sized up the dragon-headed overlord before him. In life, he’d had to be sneaky about offing his targets - lurking in alleys, springing traps, never just brawling in the street. But since arriving in Hell, being seen brutalizing a bigshot had gone from a problem to an asset.
The dragon-man stomped towards him, a snarl erupting from his mouth. Wires leapt forth from Vox’s arms, seizing the man’s lizard-like limbs, and he ducked to the right as heat burst towards him.
He wasn’t quick enough. His wires were fast, but his body was weighed down by the massive TV that now constituted his head. His left shoulder caught fire, and part of his face began to melt.
Vox let out another set of wires, seizing the overlord’s head and turning his fire breath away. A pair of rubber-neckers yelped as it streamed towards them, and one of them managed to get clear. Using his right hand to pat out the fire on his shoulder, Vox sent electricity coursing into the dragon, wracking his body with painful-looking spasms.
Electrocution is a rough way to die. Especially in front of people you’d been hoping to impress.
The flames from the overlord’s mouth died down, and then, so did the rest of him. He collapsed into a charred heap, matching the bystander he’d immolated.
Vox withdrew his wires from the man’s corpse and turned to survey his audience. “What a loser that guy turned out to be, huh? Don’t waste your time with that trash. Trust me with your future.”
Murmurs went through the gathered crowd. People were looking at him differently - the change that meant they’d gone from seeing a guy with a weird head to realizing what he was capable of.
“If you want in, make your way down to Vox Studio! See if you’ve got what it takes to be our next star.”
Without another word, he strolled away. Best to leave them hungry for more.
As he turned the corner, movement seized his attention. Was someone there? It didn’t look like anyone was around, except for… the shadows. Of course.
A tall figure rose out of the ground, clad in a bright red suit and an inhumanly wide grin. He twirled his staff and met Vox’s eyes.
“Quite the performance back there, Vincent!” Alastor’s voice echoed in stereo, joined by the scent of liquor. “You really are climbing that ladder!”
“Aha… thanks, Al.” Static tingled to the sides of Vox’s face. “You were watching that, huh?”
“Of course I was!” Alastor glided up to Vox. “It wouldn’t do for me to lose track of a promising new overlord, now would it? What if you grew to surpass me while my back was turned?”
A familiar giddy feeling spread through Vox’s stomach. He was nowhere near Alastor’s strength, and they both knew it - but few people got to hear the radio demon speak so highly of their potential.
Vox resumed his stroll, and Alastor kept pace to his right. “Good to see I’m keeping you on your toes, then. I promise, you won’t be disappointed.”
“Excellent. Speaking of which…” Alastor melted back into the shadows. A moment later, a finger ran along the melted part of Vox’s face, and Vox shivered with the tickling sensation. “How does that head of yours work, anyway?”
“I’m, uh… still figuring that out,” Vox admitted. “It doesn’t hurt, not this easily. But it should heal just fine! Always goes… back to normal.”
“You sound disappointed!” Alastor remarked. “And here I thought you enjoyed being part television!”
“I-I do!” It had been embarrassing, at first, having his new body shaped by such a stupid way to die. But that wasn’t a rare distinction - Alastor was in the same boat - and he did love television. “But… there are new TVs all the time, you know? And I’m… stuck with this one.”
His eyes fell on a storefront display. All sorts of gadgets - some of them TVs much more compact than his own.
Alastor followed his gaze. “I see! So you’d prefer one of those?”
Vox looked away, embarrassment flooding his body. “Y-Yeah. I, um, I guess.”
“Interesting. I wonder…”
Hands seized the back of Vox’s head, poking and prodding and tilting it, and he let out an instinctive yelp. “A-Al? What the hell are you doing?”
“Call it a hypothesis!” Alastor materialized in front of Vox, grin filling his vision. “Do follow along, would you?”
Alastor flung open the door and stepped inside. Vox processed the action just in time to catch the closing door, and let himself in as well.
Why were they here? Alastor didn’t use any of this stuff. He couldn’t just be trying to taunt Vox - could he?
“So many choices! Tell me, Vox. Which one is your favorite?”
“Um…” His eyes settled on one of the smaller models. From his memories of the show that had ended his life on Earth, he was pretty sure the design was similar to the one that had killed him. Even so... “That one?”
“Excellent!” Alastor turned towards the woman at the counter. “How much for this wonderful video screen?”
Vox stared blankly as Alastor paid for the TV, picked it up, and walked back to him. What the fuck was he playing at?
“There we go!” Alastor announced. “Now, to do this properly…”
Shadows leaped up around Vox. Before he could muster more than a yelp, the world was gone.
He stumbled out to a familiar sight. Alastor’s living room. The radio demon stood grinning before him, TV at his side.
“Did… did that seriously inspire you to get a TV?” Vox sputtered.
A long, distorted laugh erupted from Alastor. “Not at all! This is a gift, Vox. I hope it treats you well!”
Vox blinked. “But… then why are we here?”
“I just needed somewhere private and comfortable,” Alastor explained. “After all, the place I’m installing it is you.”
“Onto…” Vox’s hands went to his neck, to the base of his head. “You’re kidding. R-Right?”
“Didn’t you say you wanted a head like this?” Alastor reminded him. “As far as I can tell, your head is a television - one that’s simply animated by your soul. Have you ever tried taking it off?”
On instinct, Vox gave it a tug. “It’s… pretty tight on there, Al. I don’t think trying to remove it is… safe.”
“Oh, come on now, Vincent!” Alastor stepped closer, looming over him. “We’re demons, remember? We can heal from almost anything! A bit of decapitation poses no danger at all!”
“You’re… serious about this.” This was insane. Alastor was insane.
But… he trusted Alastor. More than anyone. And it was true - he’d seen people come back from worse. He’d seen people come back after he’d hurt them worse.
“Of course I’m serious! So, what do you say?”
Vox swallowed. “O-Okay. Um… go ahead.”
Alastor leaned in closer, his face filling Vox’s vision. Vox’s breath turned ragged - fuck this was embarrassing - and Alastor’s hands went to his shoulders. Then his left hand went to Vox’s chin.
“I assume this will hurt. I do apologize for that!”
Vox shut his eyes and tried to think about anything else. Then, in an agonizing instant-
A burning feeling danced along the torn wires that remained of his neck. And instead of what should have been below them… wait. What should have been below?
Vox forced his eyes open. The eyes that were still part of him, staring into Alastor’s face.
“…Al?” he gasped out. “I don’t… think it worked.”
“Ah, that is unfortunate,” Alastor admitted. “But we did learn things! Your soul resides in your head after all, and you’re still reasonably functional even without a body. So I’ll just have to figure out where your soul does live, and extract that!”
“This… really fucking hurts…” Vox groaned.
“You look like you’re in agony!” Alastor enthusiastically agreed. “Perhaps some whisky would take the edge off?”
Vox lowered his gaze as far as it would go. “Wouldn’t that… not work, when I’m just a head?”
“Most people couldn’t talk while just a head, either!” Alastor pointed out. “So I think it’s worth a try. Don’t go anywhere!”
Alastor sat Vox’s head down on the floor and melted into shadow. Don’t go anywhere, he says. He could… kind of move, a bit? It wouldn’t get him far.
Thankfully, before long, Alastor reappeared holding a bottle of whisky and a glass. He filled the glass, and poured it into Vox’s mouth. Then he filled it again and drank it himself.
Vox wasn’t sure what the alcohol was doing inside him, but something was happening. Gradually, he began to feel… blurrier. That was probably an improvement.
“Now, with that out of the way…”
Alastor took hold of Vox’s head from behind and rolled him onto his face. The sound of snapping plastic reverberated down into him, and sensations reached further below the surface.
“Um… Al?” Vox asked the floor. “Are you sure about this?”
“Positive!” Alastor promised. “This isn’t my first time removing a sinner’s brain!”
Vox was tempted to ask if any of the previous times had involved sinners the radio demon wasn’t trying to torture - or if he had ever been drunk while doing so - but decided he didn’t want to know. He just… needed to keep trusting Alastor.
The deeper Alastor got, the more… intimate it felt. The inner sections of Vox’s plastic skull seemed to be softer, more sensitive, more flesh-like. Each touch brought a stronger urge to twitch, to make… unseemly noises that he strove to hold back. If his body was attached, his heart would have been beating furiously, pumping blood towards… um, everywhere.
At last, Alastor’s fingertips reached… something else, and Vox’s brain turned to static. He must have made a new noise at that, because a moment later, Alastor’s hands fully retracted, granting a brief reprieve.
“I believe I’ve found it,” Alastor announced. “Once I extract your brain, I expect you won’t be able to see or hear or even speak until I’ve hooked it up to your new head. Shall I proceed?”
Was he ready? There was no such thing as ready for this. But… there wasn’t anything to gain by waiting, either.
“...Do it.”
If Alastor spoke a reply, it was drowned out by his touch. His grip surrounded Vox - it was impossible to believe anything else was him, now, beyond this tiny electrical box - and Alastor pulled, and the wires connecting Vox to his skull tore away.
All he could sense was Alastor's hands around him. He took control of the wires, directed them to reach for Alastor, to wrap around his wrist. He wasn't even sure which one.
As the wires seized Alastor, a burst of static pulsed through Vox. It wasn't from touch, Alastor wasn't holding him any differently - it felt like noise, but his ears were gone. Some kind of radio signal?
Alastor's other hand tried to peel the wires away, but Vox gripped tighter, and Alastor relented. He would be able to work faster by setting him down, Vox knew. But... being down on the floor, with no way to know when Alastor would pick him back up? No. No, he'd rather wait for Alastor to do this one-handed.
The movements were enough to show that Alastor was doing something, even if Vox couldn't keep track of what. It was taking so long, and Vox knew it was his fault, but... he couldn't let go. He kept his grip, and waited, and waited, and...
And Alastor was putting him inside something. Vox's wires felt outward, grasping for things to connect to, and - there!
Sensations began to flow into him. He released Alastor and fully anchored himself inside, taking in everything he could. The sight and sound signals felt jumbled, but he focused, looking for ways to reinterpret them. And his new head was adapting to him, becoming part of his body just like the old one, and he grappled for control of its muscles and speakers and...
"Hah!" Vox laughed. "It fucking WORKED!"
"You see?" Alastor's grinning face returned. "Just like I told you! What do you think?"
What does he think of... oh. Yeah. The whole point of this.
"It sure is lighter," Vox began. "And I think the connections are... smoother? I'll need more time to be sure. Could you help me get back to my body?"
"Your body?" Alastor blinked, then gave an odd look to the side. "Aren't you going to regrow it?"
"That's slow as hell," Vox pointed out. "I bet I can just wire myself back up, you know?"
"I suppose that's worth a try." Alastor's voice was oddly... reluctant, but he didn't argue. He picked up Vox and held his neck to that of his body, and Vox's wires took hold.
A barrage of sensations came flooding back. Heart springing back into action, limbs gradually losing their stiffness. And... soreness from his right hand?
He lifted his hand into view. His index and middle fingers were the sore ones - no, that wasn't it. His index and middle fingers were missing.
"Al? Where did my fingers go?"
Alastor let out a nervous giggle. "Like I said, I didn't think you'd be using this again. So I... may have helped myself a bit! Quite the blunder, a-ha-ha..."
Vox burst out laughing. "Al, you really are one of a kind. Well, whatever. Shouldn't take 'em long to grow back."
"Indeed. These bodies have so many convenient features!" Alastor's grin widened. "It's truly impressive how well yours fit back together. Even beyond my expectations!"
On instinct, Vox's left hand went to his neck, his fingers tracing the seam where the two sections met. "That was a hell of an idea. Can't say I would have thought to try it on my own."
"Most people wouldn't!" Alastor agreed. "But neither of us got to where we are by balking at a few risks, did we?"
"Haha, not at all." Vox's new eyes considered Alastor's face, trying to imagine his mentor's first life. "You've always stood out, huh? Not a lot of blacks have the ambition to-"
A static sound cut through the air. Alastor's face stretched as far as it would go.
"My, would you look at how late it is!" Alastor's eyes fixed on a spot behind Vox, but when Vox turned to look for a clock, he saw only a bare wall. "I'm sure you must be on your way. Wouldn't want you feeling unwell tomorrow!"
"Al, is... something wrong?" Vox asked. "You know that was a compliment, right?"
"A-ha-ha... Vincent, you truly are amusing. Bye now!"
Alastor's shadow swelled to fill the room, swallowing Vox into darkness. The world spun around him, then opened back out into his own home. The shadows deposited Vox onto his couch, then melted away, leaving him alone.
What was that about?
Eh, probably nothing. Al was just as eccentric as always. But they'd really started bonding, now. At this rate, they'd be ruling Hell together in no time!