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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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Chapter Two – A New Status Quo

Vox knew immediately that he had hit on the magic words.

The swathe of red that was the Radio Demon became motionless. Still staring at his fingertips as though once again hypnotised, green tendrils of smoke began to creep from under his suit, his cuffs. The smile widened, luminous green stitches tugging at the corners of Alastor’s mouth. His head turned slowly, unnervingly back towards Vox.

“...A deal?” The voice was distorted, curious. The other demon allowed himself a smirk of deepest pleasure. Alastor had always been good at pressing Vox’s buttons, but the prick hadn’t changed in the past decade – the lure of a deal was the one weakness he knew; the one button he knew how to press back.
Vox raised an eyebrow and leaned forward until their faces were barely a few inches apart. He lowered his voice enticingly.
“Yes Al. A deal. Not some kiss-and-make-up bullshit Carmine wants us to pull. A real one. Legally binding, no hidden small print. Just me, you, and one hell of a contract.”
Vox looked into the red hot eyes, and for the first time since this dumpster fire of a day had started, felt he had some control over the situation. The smoke around Alastor was twisting slowly, the face grinning, but the voice now silent. He was watching Vox, waiting for the other demon to present his terms.
“You let me show you exactly what you’re missing out on, and in return you get everything except the warehouse back.”
The green tendrils receded almost instantly. The neon coloured stitches at the corners of Alastor’s mouth flashed into nothingness and the impossibly wide grin withdrew into a half-smile of intense irritation.
“You really think a miserable packet of land is enough for me to make that kind of a deal? Honestly Vox, I’m disappointed in y-”
“I haven’t finished.” Interjected the other man. He suddenly swooped back up and strode around the desk, walking to one of the black painted walls and a row of filing cabinets. He opened one of the bottommost drawers and began tearing through old, yellowed papers, scanning each one as if looking for something. Alastor merely sat, a hand clutching the top of his cane and glowering darkly at the back of Vox’s head.
Vox finally found what he was looking for with a triumphant grin. He took a brief glance over a long, yellowed and creased sheet of paper and stood up. The wording was still fine, it just needed… updating.
Without looking at Alastor, he brought the paper back to his desk, took out a pen and began scribbling furiously at the top of it, writing so intently that he nearly tore holes through the paper.
Alastor began to tap his hoofed foot on the floor impatiently.
For a moment the only sounds were the hum of electricity, the sound of impatient tapping, and the scribble of pen on paper. Alastor’s antlers began to creep slowly upwards again, his face darkening as the seconds ticked away.
Finally Vox sat up, looked across the desk and slid the sheet slowly with a single finger towards the other demon. “Read that fucker and tell me you still don’t wanna sign.”
Alastor gave him a weary look and peered down at the crumpled, ancient-looking parchment.
He reached out a graceful, long-fingered hand and picked it up, holding it up to the light. “Curious, this contract looks as if it’s been written for quite a while.” He said with mock-innocence. Vox’s smile of triumph twitched downwards slightly and he looked away, trying to hide the slight pinkness bleeding through his screen.
“Oh… yeah, you know…” He said nervously “using up an old piece of parchment.”
Alastor adjusted the ruby red monocle. “Why… one would almost imagine this was written nearly a decade ago.”
There was a pause.
“Just read it.”
Alastor stood up from his seat and began pacing, unconsciously retracing the steps Carmilla Carmine had walked in this office barely half an hour ago. His eyes travelled across the paper as he walked, taking the contents in carefully, weighing up the wording of each clause as the wheels turned in his head.
“Alastor shall reclaim dominion over their previously entitled territory adjacent to Cannibal Town, with the sole exception of the Voxtek warehouse within said territory. Furthermore, all Voxtek employees shall be granted a guarantee of safe passage to and from the warehouse.”
A fairly straightforward clause, thought Alastor. It would be frustrating, of course, having Vox’s cronies trample through his territory without being able to tear them apart, but he was sure he could control himself.
“Both Alastor and Vox shall solemnly agree never to divulge the contents of this contract to any third parties. Any breach of this confidentiality shall be considered a grave violation of the contract.”
Alastor tilted his head to the side, a little more intrigued now. No talking about this agreement? He couldn’t imagine Vox keeping his mouth shut about anything – least of all something like this. That was… interesting.
“Within the confines of Vox’s office, neither Party shall inflict serious harm upon the other. Furthermore, any words or actions exchanged in this location shall remain strictly within its walls and cannot be used to gain power, cause physical or reputational harm, or secure an advantage in business. Violating this provision constitutes a breach of contract.”
Alastor’s head was nearly at a 45 degree angle now, his eyes narrowed and a slight smirk forming on his face. Vox had written this? Why? Secrecy? Surrendering territory? Those were hardly his strong suits. In all the years he’d known him, Vox had been loud, hot headed and bullish. This was curiously unexpected. His eyes flickered down to the next clause, and his smirk faded. He stopped pacing and looked down witheringly at the other demon sitting in front of him.
“Really Vox?”
Vox put on his best winning smile and shrugged. “Like I said - let me show you what you've been missing out on. Just read the last section and then decide.”
With a sniff of annoyance, Alastor peeled his eyes away and back to the yellowed paper. He read the final paragraph.
“A breach of contract in any of the above clauses will result in all territories and souls belonging to the guilty party being surrendered to the wounded party.”
Alastor read over this final statement several times, processing the information carefully. Vox subconsciously leaned forward in his chair, holding his breath.
‘All territories and souls belonging to the guilty party…’. Alastor raised an eyebrow. Vox had been right, for once. This was a tempting proposition. Everything that belonged to Vox… every soul including his own… placed as a wager on Vox’s dubious ability to keep secrets. Alastor had no doubt, of course, that he himself could keep a secret – his life both before and after death had been full of them.
Speaking of which, the wording of the final phrase – souls belonging to the guilty party. Alastor had a sudden, manic urge to laugh. How bitterly ironic. If the Radio Demon ever were to slip up on his end of the contract, he would like to see the dismay on Vox’s face when he realised just how badly he’d phrased that. It would at least be interesting, seeing the argument between the Vox and his current… puppeteer. He snarled internally at the word and gripped the contract a little tighter.
“So…” interjected Vox finally, softly, “Still not interested?”
The Radio Demon stood in thought for a moment longer, his brow furrowed behind the grin. Was this something he was willing to do?
Alastor lowered the unsigned contract to his side and walked up to the desk. He placed a hand on the surface and leaned towards Vox’s face, ears pricked forward. “...And what if I sign this, then decide I don’t enjoy what you have to offer?”
Vox raised an eyebrow. “Oh you will,” he purred confidently. The fact that Alastor hadn’t flatly refused had bolstered his confidence, though he was trying hard to hide how badly he wanted the other demon to sign his name, “but I’m not Val. Read that section again.”
Alastor sighed and scanned the page again for the second to last paragraph.
“Any further interaction of this kind between Alastor and Vox will take place only if and when both parties are agreeable and available.”
“So you’re willing to risk your soul, your empire, your entire place in Hell for one encounter with me?” Alastor growled back, raising a single finger in front of the other Overlord’s face. He grinned darkly and quirked an eyebrow upwards. “I should be flattered, Vox.”
Vox scowled once more.
“Oh fuck you, are you interested or not?”
Alastor’s grin deepened.
It hadn’t been his plan, of course. When Carmilla and Rosie had insisted he come here, he’d merely tagged along because it seemed less of a hassle than refusing and taking on every Overlord in the Pride ring, because he didn't want to upset Rosie, and he could not afford to bring the fighting back to the Hotel. It had been an annoyance, a minor inconvenience in his day. The idea of being… intimate with anyone wasn’t something he’d generally entertained – that kind of intimacy made one vulnerable, and Alastor flatly refused to be vulnerable. Never again.
But the contract Vox had penned negated all of that – he couldn’t be hurt, manipulated, nor blackmailed by Vox at all if he signed this contract, and the contract stipulated explicitly that he couldn’t be forced. It was almost perfect. Not to mention the sheet of paper in his hand could change the entire landscape of the Pentagram.
He wondered if Vox actually understood just what a bad deal it was for him, and what a good deal for Alastor. He didn’t know, but he was sure it would be entertaining to find out.
"You know, of course," Said Alastor lowly, "if I sign this your soul is as good as mine?"
Vox snorted. "Well why don't you sign it and we'll find out?" he growled back, sneering, "Or is the perfect, deer-freak Radio Demon scared?"
Alastor's eyes narrowed.
Still grinning into Vox’s face, he reached a hand delicately out and pulled the pen still sitting in the other demon’s hand. He felt the fingers twitch at the touch.
Vox’s eyes widened in disbelief.
The blank gap at the bottom of the page began to glow in an ominous green as the Radio Demon slowly traced his signature into the paper, uplighting his face, reflecting off Vox’s bewildered screen. Vox couldn’t actually believe what he was seeing.
When the redheaded demon stood again, the green glow had gone, but a single, large and neatly cursive word still remained written in fresh ink:
ALASTOR
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The Contract