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The Contract	By : Turkaholic Category: -Misc Cartoons > Slash - Male/Male Views: 262 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hazbin Hotel or Helluva Boss. I do not make any money from this story

Chapter List
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Note: Another prod to remind you that a quick review would be great. Again, I'm out of practice so be gentle, but I think I'm at least doing a decent job with character voices. Hearing back from readers would help with my confidence
And yes, you're going to recognise some of these chapter titles.
Chapter One ~ Let’s Begin…

The silence that followed seemed to extend outwards into an eternity. Vox continued to stare at the now closed doorway for a few seconds longer, hoping for some sort of reprieve – perhaps Val or Velvette would take exception to being told what to do by a bitch like Carmilla Carmine, but he had the nagging feeling that she hadn’t been lying about their annoyance at his actions.
Eventually, reluctantly, he came to the conclusion that no escape from the situation was coming, and locked eyes with the demon sitting primly in the leather-backed chair on the other side of his desk.
Alastor was smiling – as always. As fucking always. His pointed teeth on display as he stared into Vox’s soul, unblinking, ears now perched far forward with the vaguest hint of threat. Vox refused to look away, he merely glared, the silence beyond uncomfortable and deafeningly loud.
He wasn’t sure how long they’d been sitting like that – minutes or hours, possibly – but suddenly, Alastor sat back and looked casually down at the red tips of his fingers.
“I want my territory on the edge of Cannibal Town back.” he said, conversationally.
The inside of Vox’s head nearly short circuited.
“You want – Cannibal town – but that’s…” He spluttered vehemently. “You’re fucking joking.”
“Not at all, my good man.” replied Alastor, sweetly. “The only reason you and your bottom feeders got your grubby little hands on it in the first place is because I wasn’t here to stop you.” He looked briefly back up into Vox’s eyes. “I am now.”
“There is no way – no fucking way I’m giving you that. We just finished building a Voxtek warehouse down there.”
“Unfortunately for you, I don’t care!” replied the redhead brightly. “That territory includes my favourite restaurant. Their canapés are to die for – and they make the most glorious finger food.”
Vox raised his hands back to his head, resting his elbows on the desk and massaging his forehead furiously with his fingertips. “How…” he growled from between gritted teeth “...the hell do they expect me to make a deal when you’re so fucking unreasonable?”
“Now now, I hardly think it’s unreasonable to ask you to return what’s rightfully mine.” Alastor walked his fingers idly up the side of his cane. “It’s not my fault you and your petty little circus up there assumed I was gone for good.”
Vox peered out at the Radio Demon from behind his hands. Alastor was sitting, seemingly relaxed in his chair, smiling serenely with his head tilted just slightly, taking in the sight of Vox’s frustration as though drinking it in, like a delicious cocktail. He could see the enjoyment in those stupid, smug red eyes. Vox could feel the irritation beginning to grow inside him again like an electrical charge, humming through his torso, making his spine prickle. The asshole was enjoying this. If it weren’t for Zestial outside the door…
“You are not getting that territory back.” He muttered, angry static adding percussion to his words.
“Then I’m afraid we’re going to be here quite a while.” Sighed the Radio Demon in mock-sadness.
There was a long pause, silence stretching out into infinity once more. Alastor closed his eyes and began to hum to himself contentedly.
“You don’t want it back.” Vox said quietly.
“Oh ho! I’m afraid I do.”
“No Al,” it had been a long time since he’d used the other demon’s shortened name. It felt strange, almost painful as it spilled from his mouth, but it did have the effect he’d been hoping for. Alastor’s long closed eyes shot open in response, staring straight into his own. Vox’s eyes opened wide, his voice became low and distorted, one pupil spiralling hypnotically, “You don’t.”
For a moment - one joyful moment - he thought he’d finally, finally won. The redhead’s smile drooped into something strangely vacant, uncharacteristicly soft; Vox could see his own screen of a face reflected in the dilated pupils. He felt a thrill of sudden, unexpected excitement swelling in his chest as Alastor’s fingers slackened their grip on the cane. It fell to the floor with a resonant clatter.
A disbelieving smile tugged itself across Vox’s stunned face. No more than a few heartbeats passed, however, before the Radio Demon squeezed his eyes tightly shut, his teeth reverting to a snarl and shaking himself free.
“Nice try.” Alastor’s voice was no longer light and relaxed. It was tight, irritated, dangerous, and momentarily unmasked by static. He leaned down and swept his cane back from the floor and came back up with his eyes narrowed malevolently. “Did you really think you could manipulate me the same way you do your fatuous viewers? Surprisingly, I thought you were smarter than that.”
Vox felt the bubble of triumph deflate in his chest – but not entirely. He noted, somewhere beyond the frustration and the rapidly growing stress headache that Alastor had succumbed, if only briefly, to hypnosis. He had actually hypnotised the fucking Radio Demon. He had never been even remotely successful before. Perhaps Alastor was out of practice after so long? He filed it away, he could reflect on that at a later time.
Right now, however, Alastor’s whole demeanour had changed alarmingly. Whereas a few moments ago, he had been happily sitting back in the chair, humming sedately, clearly enjoying the frustration he was instilling in the other demon, now the very air around him seemed to crackle with energy. His ears were tilted back dangerously far, the grin was now a snarl, and the shadowy antlers that normally lay hidden had started to creep menacingly into view. Vox couldn’t help but push his back up against the chair a little, subconsciously putting a little more room between them. Even with Zestial standing guard outside, Vox knew enough about the deer-wannabe prick to know that a truly angry Alastor was not likely to care. Irritated, frustrated, completely bewildered by the situation he'd been forced into, he nonetheless decided to try a different approach.
“Hah…” he tried to give a convincing laugh. He took a deep breath and spread his hands out placatingly, trying to smooth out his voice into it's normal news-anchor like charm. “Can’t blame a guy for trying. But Alastor… Alastor… come on,” he crooned, full of fake friendliness. “be reasonable – you’re stuck in here with me, I’m stuck in here with you. That bitch Carmine won’t let us go ‘til we settle this. How about we make a deal and we can both get the hell out of here?”
Alastor took a moment to look over the other demon’s face. The antlers receded; the snarl gone. He let out a deep sigh and slowly leaned forward, the leather of the chair creaking in the stillness. Vox stared dubiously, uncertainly, every nerve on edge.
Alastor said just two words.
“...Cannibal Town.”
“OH YOU FUCKING PIECE OF –“ Vox bit his tongue just a little too late. The lights above their heads flickered momentarily, the screens on the rear wall crackled, and for a fraction of a second the only illumination in the room came from Vox’s face and Alastor’s burning red eyes. When they finally stabilised, Vox was standing once more, sparks once again gathering at his agitated fingertips. He stared down at the paperwork-littered surface below him until the rage subsided. "How is that even a deal? You just want me to hand over a chunk of land like that?"
"A small price to pay for peace, dear Vox." Alastor shrugged, relaxing back into his chair, at ease again now that the other demon had lost composure. "After all, I'm not the one who started this."
The words had a peculiar effect on the still standing Vox. He continued to stare down at the desk, teeth gritted, eyes wide, frozen. He silently dug his fingertips into the wood, splintering the surface.
Alastor was silent for a moment. He was looking at Vox with a strange, knowing glint in his eyes. “I’m not the one who can’t take…” Alastor’s voice lowered an octave, the radio static in his voice reaching a peak, “...rejection.”
Vox’s fingertips dug harder into the desk, half an inch of wood splintering under his sharp, claw-like hands.
A moment passed. Alastor continued to watch Vox with vague amusement. Finally, Vox seemed to gather himself. He released his grip on the desk and sank back into the chair behind him. There was a slightly forced smirk on his face. He propped his legs up on the desk and relaxed, as though nothing peculiar had happened.
“Heh come on… I just offered to show you a good time.” He said breezily.
“And I said no, and you took it rather... poorly.”
“Fuck. You.”
Alastor’s eye twitched. “Some of us,” he added waspishly, “don’t need to resort to such tawdry misadventures to find ‘a good time’.”
Vox raised an eyebrow in genuine surprise. “So you still haven’t…?”
“That’s absolutely none of your business, my dear Vox.” Said Alastor, a finality in his tone. He looked down and began smoothing out his suit as though he found the whole turn in the conversation a little boring.
Vox scoffed. “Oh you have no fucking idea what you’re missing out on!”
“Clearly, you’re going to tell me.” Alastor sighed. “Since I’m stuck here with you. I'm sure it will be riveting.”
“Look, I know what it’s like-” He spread his palms out in a gesture of confidence and understanding, “– having to put on a public face, making sure people know not to fuck with you, making sure every word, every step, every blink you take in public is absolutely perfect.”
“Hmm…” sighed the Radio Demon again, “There are those of us who don’t need to ‘make sure’, we simply ‘are’.”
“You are not fucking perfect, you egocentric prick!”
Alastor smiled wider, another malevolent flicker of joy dancing in his eyes at Vox’s frustration. Vox bit his lip, regained his composure and continued in the same, smooth tone.
“Anyway... letting yourself enjoy something – or someone – letting go of that perfect persona, letting yourself get lost in pleasure... even for a moment… its good. There's a reason Val makes so much money, you know. People down here... they need people like him to help them blow off steam. Everybody does. Even you.”
Alastor's fingers curled almost imperceptibly around his cane at the mention of Valentino. Vox continued to smile, ignorant of the change.
"I have far more interesting ways of blowing off steam, Vox. For example - " Alastor stood from the chair again, his face darkening, the smile now ghoulish and unnervingly wide. "Taking ownership of your soul..." He extended his fingers as though grabbing hold of an invisible chain in the air, "tearing it slowly apart, piece by measly piece and broadcasting the screams to every sinner in Hell, letting them all hear the price of betrayal..." Alastor's shadow grew. It seemed to creep up the wall behind him, malevolent and forboding. Vox gritted his teeth, but otherwise tried to hold his nerve. Suddenly the Radio Demon snapped a finger and the shadow disappeared. His face brightened back into a smile. "Now that's my idea of entertainment."
Vox snorted and leaned forward across the desk glaring up at the other demon. "Not going to happen."
Alastor slowly leaned in closer. "But thinking about that is so much more appealing than anything you have ever had to offer."
Vox’s face dropped, his mouth thinning to an annoyed, pixellated line. Alastor turned, heading to the door with uncharacteristic speed.
“Wha-? Where d’you think you’re going?”
“Why, my fine fellow, I’m leaving. I can’t sit around here and listen to your purile drivel. Good day, ta ta!”
Alastor threw open the office door with a swift, regal wave and stepped out into the dark cavernous space that served as Vox’s outer office – a circular wall of hanging screens, currently blue and devoid of any picture save the Voxtek logo, enclosed a single swivelling chair. Cables dangled haphazardly from the ceiling, swaying snake-like in the cold, lightly shifting air. Alastor took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and began moving around the outer walkway, towards where he remembered the lift stood.
“Alastor.”
The Radio Demon’s ears flicked back against his head once more, his eyes widening slightly. In his hurry to escape the conversation, he’d completely forgotten about the situation he was in; about Zestial.
He spun on the spot, a wide smile on his face. The ancient demon was sitting on a small couch, apparently supplied for those waiting for a meeting with Vox. His massive, slender figure hunched like an overlarge spider. He looked almost comically too large for the seat. Almost.
“Zestial!” He said brightly, smiling wider as he made his way breezily back towards the door. “How are you?”
The other Demon’s eyes flickered bright and yellow in the half light. He raised a teacup to his lips from where it sat in a saucer on his lap, and looked Alastor over before he answered. “Alas, old friend. The troubles betwixt thee and thy nemesis in turn trouble us all.”
Alastor waved a dismissive hand "Ah, I know, I know… sometimes I get a little -” He let out a slightly deranged laugh, “-carried away.”
“Indeed. Thy passion for thy craft is a wonder to behold. But mayhaps thy emergence from this place brings with it glad tidings?”
Zestial’s eyes glinted. Alastor was sure he already knew the answer.
“I’m afraid not – not yet, at least. We’re simply working out the finer details, I’m sure we won’t need to keep you much longer. I just stepped out - you know - for a moment of fresh air.”
“This is glad news indeed.” Replied the ancient demon with a courteous nod, his voice rasping and filling the wide room with whispers. Alastor nodded back. “It would grieve me greatly were thou to… fall out of favour so soon after thy return.”
Alastor’s smile remained fixed and charming. Only the very corners of his eyes narrowed at the veiled threat.
“Oh, I’m sure it won’t come to that.” He said mildly. He began heading nonchalantly back towards the office door, as though that had been his intention all along. “Why, I’m sure before long I and the Vees will be the greatest of friends.”
Zestial did not speak again, but Alastor could feel all four of the glimmering eyes follow his every move until he stepped back in to the sterile light of the office and closed the door behind him.
Vox was still sitting in the same position, his highly polished shoes perched on the splintered desk, the same, thin-lipped scowl on his screen. Alastor adjusted his suit, smoothed his lapel and sat primly back in the chair, the smile now vaguely annoyed.
“You idiot.” sniped Vox, waspishly.
They fell into another bout of silence. Alastor seemed to be becoming less and less amused at the scenario as the minutes ticked away. He was starting to tap the leather arm rest under his fingers so ferociously that the upholstery was flaking away. Vox’s eye twitched. He was going to have to buy a new chair.
In Alastor's brief absence, though, he'd had a moment to regain his composure a little. He'd been thrown by the sudden invasion of a party of Overlords into his control centre, and the presence of this... fucker. But now, a plan was forming in his mind.
Alastor was stuck here, they couldn't fight. They were having the closest thing to a conversation they'd had in nearly a decade. Maybe... there was a chance he could finally...
“… So,” He began smoothly, as though beginning an idle conversation. “You’re... still not interested?”
Alastor didn’t need to ask what Vox was talking about. One of his ears twitched in annoyance. Without skipping a beat he answered.
“Not in the slightest.”
Vox hesitated, registering Alastor for a moment, deciding on his response. Finally, he raised an eyebrow incredulously. “Not even remotely curious what you’re missing out on?” Vox pressed, his voice lowering half an octave.
Alastor began inspecting his fingernails, smirking. “Oh, even if I were, I doubt it would ever be with you.”
Another pause. Vox slowly lowered his feet from the desk, trying to keep his breath steady and stay collected. He stood up again from the desk, taking a long, slow, cautious walk around to the front. Alastor continued to inspect his fingers, but Vox could tell that he was paying full attention.
He rested himself against the front of his desk in a would-be casual pose, placing the palms of his hands against the veneer. He knew that the next words out of his mouth would have to be perfect; would have to pique Alastor’s curiosity. It was the longest of long shots - he wasn't even sure Alastor wouldn't simply try to eat him. Still, he thought wryly, you can only die twice.
“Not even if we… made a deal?”
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The Contract