Vox

Vox pinned Alastor against the wall, and the static charge in the air hummed with fury, ready to erase the Radio Demon from the face of the Earth at any moment. But the latter seemed to be enjoying it.

"Now-now-now, no need to rush," his voice sounded sweet, like spoiled honey, cutting through Vox's anger. "I have a proposition... I will join your little propaganda club, and you will provide me with two small..." — Alastor brought his thumb and forefinger together, leaving a tiny gap between them — "...favors. Let those two go."

He gracefully nodded towards Husk, whom Velvette was violently choking, and Niffty, whom Valentino had at gunpoint.

"And," — his voice suddenly turned to steel, though his smile remained the same — "never lay a hand on Charlie Morningstar again."

Alastor extended his hand. Vox, his face twisted in a triumphant grin, shook it eagerly, confident that he was the one who had just secured victory.

---

While Vox was celebrating his "victory," Alastor sat motionless in the wheeled chair, entangled in wires like a dangerous animal on a chain. His famous smile was hidden behind a mask with a eerie, painted-on upside-down grin, and his ears, usually held high, were pressed back in silent yet eloquent displeasure. Only his eyes, burning with a quiet, cold fury, remained fixed on Vox, as if already plotting future retribution.

Vox strode heavily over to Alastor and, digging his fingers into his jaw, roughly lifted his head.

"See this, Al?" — his voice trembled with triumphant rage. "The great and elusive Radio Demon is now sitting in my tower. Tied up. In my hands. Can you imagine?!"

He released his face with disgust and gestured broadly towards the massive window, beyond which the distant Heaven glowed.

"Now look there!" — Vox hissed. "Soon it will be mine. Soon... I will become a god