route666rp | It's good for you!

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It's good for you!

Who: Vox and Alastor
What: An outdoor excursion turned ~~awesome~~ terrible! When two big media personalities butt heads, the sparks will fly and are sure to make headlines! But there's an added funny little twist, a reminder of a new oddity thrust upon them in this strange new world.
When: Early December
Where: During a needed stop in the mountains
Warnings: Gore. So much gore. They're both freaks.

Vox groaned as he pressed a hand to his neck and stretched his shoulder as far as it could go. He didn't miss Hell, really, but he sure was missing the steady temperature. The biting chill, especially as the Convoy made its way up the mountain and into the passes, left him feeling stiff as he had his first shiver in as long as he could remember.

He knew it wasn't ever a smart idea to have a smoke out in the cold. But he was a demon, so who gives a fuck? It wasn't like he could die of hypothermia out here... right...?

Still, stress was stress, and after being bunched and achy from the cold for longer than he'd care for, he bundled up in everything he'd managed to scrounge up that'd fit him and set outside when the snowfall eased up. With one precious cigarette in hand, he set out for a little air.

He was without his consoles, his battle station... other than the car- whose name he still needed to decide on- there wasn't much else he could fuck around with. It left him feeling bored, too idle, and was prone to fidgeting with pens or whatever else fit in his hands. He even rolled the cigarette in his fingers like a coin now, until he paused and used a spark to light the end.

Vox brought it to his lips and took a drag as he looked out over the snowy landscape. It'd been several decades since he'd really seen the stuff outside of the manufacturing of a movie set. The way the world was somehow put on mute was a marvel, stifling even some of the engines idling and the chatter from the Convoy that usually wafted through even the closed windows.

Mute.

Nothingness.

It was enough to calm his own mind down, let thoughts drift to the taste of the paper and nicotine. It was enough to help him begin to forget the cold a little, pressing on to begin a slow walk and listen to the snow crunch underfoot.

He hoped SHOK.wav was okay. Was he lonely, sending pings to locate daddy now? Valentino always tried to feed the demon shark garbage, and Velvette wanted nothing to do with 'the toothy bitch'.

He sighed, the steam of his breath mingling with wisps of nicotine smoke. How long had it been since he just took a walk...? Years? He always had to be going somewhere: Meetings, press conferences, expos. But he never really just walked to walk.

This was nice. This was cold, but... relaxing.

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Cold was, much to Alastor's chagrin.... a new encounter for him. Oh, it'd had its novelties. After all, Louisiana only rarely had a brief spit of snow - not at all like the dense blanket coating everything and epitomizing the 'white Christmas' look you'd always see on cards.

But the suit that Alastor had for Hell's temperature wasn't really cutting it. Especially not as it got frosted, and the snow packed into his shoes and under his pant legs started to melt in contact with his skin. GAH. As if his hooves weren't a massive pain with traction on a good day. And these nine massive appendages jutting from his spine were doing a FINE job at collecting snow and dragging him down...! After turning back around, Alastor started trudging his way through the snow to get back to his van and--

Ah. It's him.

Without a word, Alastor approached Vox - if only because the path went this direction - and plucked the cigarette right from him and took a drag from it, himself. Ah, brief relief.

He saw movement and paused, not out of any precaution but out of curiosity in who the fuck else would be out here rather than in the warmth of the Convoy. But as the gray and white of the world around him was stained with the first fleck of red, Vox's shoulders stiffened, his hands bundling into fists in his jacket's pockets.

He sharply turned his head away. Guy thrived on attention, so... let's let him starve so he can go about his way and he can go back to having some peace-

Fingers snatched the cigarette from his lips and his surprise elicited an indignant, short chuff of a cough from him. Immediately he stood straighter and narrowed his eyes.

"...Seriously? That's my only one."

Alastor didn't bother responding at first, just smiling as he always did as he took a drag from the cigarette and exhaled.

"Thanks for sharing," he chuckled back, tapping the ash off of the end. He made absolutely no move to pass it back.

"Ha-ha-ha." One drag was obnoxious. The second was crossing the line. It'd been burning a hole in his pocket all afternoon, a little treat for his troubles, and if he didn't act now this jackass would--

"Don't you have somewhere to be?? Someone else to bother?" He was having a nice evening, and reached out to snatch the thing back to CONTINUE his nice evening, god damn it-

Edited 2025-12-03 02:14 (UTC)

"I was having a stroll," he said oh so casually, attempting to press the lit end of the cigarette into the swiping palm. "Stretching the legs! I presume that's why you've stepped away from your new favorite toy."

"Then keep strolling!" He'd raised his voice now, shattering the muffled calm around them. He flinched when a lit end touched navy skin. Gah, ow, what- can you fucking be an adult--

He is not going to demand it back. He was never going to beg for it, FUCK no, but he will keep snatching for the one thing that was giving him some modicum of calm for the time being.

Because of COURSE it was him. Of course he'd take this from him, too.

His cables emerged from his back and shot out as thin seams began to grow upon his monitor, sectioning his screen into four. He'll restrain the guy if he had to in order to get it back.

Huh. Alastor tilted his head, looking over the segmenting of the screen. That's new. Come to think of it, where's this vigil Vox is supposed to have?

Actually, if he's getting riled up... Alastor chuckled, pulling the cigarette back to see the change.

"Cross already? And wasting your only cigarette, we've hardly been here a day."

His own adrenaline was processing the nicotine in his system all too quickly, thanks to his demonic physiology. The cold had come rushing back, stinging his skin like small needles. But that was nothing against the mocking tone the Radio Demon took with him. Always that tone. Always toying.

His cables thrust into the earth and lifted him to loom, hunched as countless eyes opened. With a myriad crunching and clicking, the segments came together in a conal, snout-like shape. Its horizontal split opened to reveal serrated teeth. There was a faint hint of a glow from the collar of his jacket on one side, a mark nestled beneath beginning its reaction.

"Did you ever think that it MIGHT be because, unlike you nipping at the princess' heels with your lips glued to her ass, I had a fucking CITY to run!?"

Such a tantrum. Alastor stepped back - not out of intimidation, but so he could more lazily look up without craning his neck. Slowly, Alastor's tails flicked off the snow they'd been collecting and fanned out more like a peacock's than anything else.

"I always told you that fighting to hold territory is a ridiculous waste of time! But you never listened, did you? Too eager to have your own little flock dependent on you so you could feel important."

Three of the eyes widened, almost offended as the tails fanned behind the other man.

He leaned back, propped high and his arms opened. "And who owns the city, Al? ME. Not the Morningstars, not the other overlords..."

His tirade was distracting him enough through the pain. His legs twisted, digitigrade, ending in bright blue claws. Far too many cables burst from his back, spraying blood across the snow as they twisted, braided into countless tails that shed stray sparks.

"I'm the fucking FACE, bitch! Meanwhile, you were gone seven years and barely... hahaha... barely ANYONE remembers a fucking THING about you!" The cables lowered him, let him stand on his new legs, and as he circled, the air above growled with distant thunder.

"So where do YOU get off-" He froze, mouth agape as an animalistic bugling echoed through the pass. A distant tree snapped and fell. Thundering steps sounded, growing in volume.

"Heh? The fuck-?"

Interesting.

Alastor's ear flicked, hearing the bugling... but disregarding it. He was the only source of a bugle that Vox should ever fear.

The way the head had folded and his body tore itself apart... a transformation, visceral, it made Alastor's spine tingle. He felt it from the tip of each one of his nine tails shuddering all the way up his back, to his scalp, itching fur growing as he felt his limbs elongate as they always did.

Except, he didn't become giant - his skin split to grow dense red fur, his cloven hoof feet growing denser to support the shift in weight. Alastor's face stretched, but he hardly noticed as his eyes fixated on Vox's throat as he looked away towards whatever sound was approaching.

His throat was bared. Alastor's instinct won over - he lunged and tackled the other in a frenzy, new jaws snapping at this imposter.

The crackling, crunching brought his attention back. The many eyes flickered, glowed brighter, a curiosity aroused as the other man had changed. Something about it- perhaps from seeing him grow large and gangly so often, the association that something routine (and frankly, comfortable in its familiarity)- had him giggling.

But it was all in a blink. He turned, giggled, and his vision was filled with a rush of red as he was tackled to the snow, scattering powder. The giggle turned into a yelp of surprise and pain, too animal from his ever-shifting vocal cords, but his limbs twisted and swung. His back legs kicked to try and knock Alastor off of him as more cables emerged to thrust into trees and any solid ground he could manage.

Vox fought to right himself, jaws open to give a mingled roar of challenge and gleeful laughter. The air felt alive, sharp and sweet with static. Hair stood on end. Even half-transformed, he was ready for a fight, and swung a massive claw as he was gradually wreathed in more threads of lightning. Charging...

Alastor's jaws snapped shut shy of a proper bite as he instead moved to duck away from the swiping claws - he started laughing in his own right, voice distorted as he tumbled away from Vox's kicking legs and half-hunched over in the snow like a beast himself.

Forget the thundering clouds and the rumble of hooves - Alastor has having such fun swiping at Vox with snaps of his fangs or with his razor-sharp claws, playing with Vox's new form like a cat with prey.

"HAH. Couldn't even have a unique form, you copied my new visage as well! You never change, old pal!"

More. He wanted more.

...Of the fight?

Of this body?

The twisting pain?

He couldn't say. But he got that more when his back arched and gave a wet crunch, sending him forward to all fours as his arms grew to accommodate. Muscle developed over muscle, adding bulk to what should normally be a lithe vulpine body. As his flesh split and revealed thin lines of an almost hypnotic blue light that pulsed, his speed seemed to increase to suit. A blast of heat erupted from gills that flared at his throat, exertion as he brought a tail made of braided cords down to parry claw swipes, but drew back from snaps of the red jaws.

"Guess you need to turn that monocle into full spectacles, old man! I'm always changing... always innovating! And you? You're always so fucking busy being last decade's news... it's no WONDER Hell moved on from their so-called bogeyman!"

The air sharpened, sweetened on the nose as he rushed forward to snap, to grab, teeth glowing like conduits as sparks danced between.

But about then, the treeline to their left all but exploded in a spray of splinters and powder snow. A hulking creature, already territorial but now fully incensed by all the noisy chatter that shredded the snow's muting curtain, demolished trees some decades to nearly a century old in a blink with gargantuan antlers. It was something that blended theropod and moose, but seemed to entirely bear the short fuse of the latter.

AH. That would be the source of the bugling.

With a snarl, Alastor leapt back and away from Vox, leaping a few paces to try and keep the interfering newcomer's tracking gaze off of him. With a thrash of its head the beast bellowed, then charged, digging its massive scooping antlers into the earth and creating a massive ball of ice and stone that it hurled at the offending foxes.

New reflexes kept Alastor well out of the way of the boulder, and with a snarl, he launched himself onto the creature's back to slash at the sides of its throat.

"EVERY TIME-- you ALWAYS get some Hail Mary bailing you out of a true one-on-one!"

He retreated quickly, all eyes wide and openly confused despite the energy that crackled around his tails, claws and mouth.

...Was that a fucking dinosaur moose???

It plowed through the frozen earth and he needed to shake off the shock, dissolving into lightning to pop away, and rematerialized out of that torrent's path. Alastor mounted the creature and it bellowed, thrashing and shaking to try and dislodge the predator. Its thundering steps and each impact of its antlers against the ground trembled the earth, left things unsteady.

But the sharp slash against the throat sent it careening in the opposite direction, where it then smashed into the rocky, rime-covered mountainside.

"Oh yeah, I forgot that I brought my fucking moose whistle!" He disappeared again, leaving a cloud of sparks that quickly dissipated.

...But then the banbaro's hair began to stand a bit on end. The sweetness intensified. Skin buzzed. Alastor knew this maneuver, didn't he? It was always one of Vox's favorites-

Yet rather than appear right on top of the Radio Demon's position, he slammed down like a bolt of lightning upon the creature's head. With a trumpeting bellow, the invading monster hit the ground like a sack of filthy laundry, thrashing and kicking in its attempt to balance itself and rise again. But its head was heavy, and the ground was slick from the churned up snow.

Vox already was embedding the head and neck with his plugs. The blue fox's mouth opened wide in a shriek and an intense glow, blending with a laugh as he channeled a current into this massive furball like a nearly-spent battery.

Even so, the moment Alastor sensed the hair-raising sensation of positive and negative charges building up, he snarled and leapt off of the banboro to avoid the electrocution - all for the better, even with the beast getting pummeled on its cranium.

While Vox attacked the beast's head, Alastor settled on his own preferred target and lunged for the belly. A thick hide, some of it covered in dense fur, but certainly much more pliable than the armor along its spine. Rip. Slash. Tear. Tear!! His fangs found purchase once skin was split and he sank them in, pulling with all his might to rip open fat and muscle. Delicious, fresh, bleeding prey but there was a prize inside - why did he crave liver so much lately?

Can't this thing die already so they can go back to their fight!? For fuck's sake-

With the creature properly thrashing, fighting to right itself, he untangled more cords from his tails. He wrapped them around the thick neck of the beast, his eyes blazing brighter. His head tipped and his jaws crackled, the vertical segments splitting slightly, held together only by thin threads of electricity as the laughter continued. The cords moved like snakes, braiding and twisting together. The banbaro thrashed anew, its belly being chewed upon, torn open, and the smell of blood was sharp in his nose.

There. That's the perfect amount. Now, pull...

The cables would begin to recede, trying to draw back into their original position, but in doing so, his beautiful weaving job would only tighten more and more around the throat of the monster. The bellow of the creature began to dry up, caught deep in its lungs. Wasteful... it needed to save what air it could get and fast. The brain could only live for minutes without precious oxygen.

The cables groaned in their strain, but he wrenched and pulled tighter with each wheeze of air. As the banbaro's struggles intensified, panic settling in, arms too short to reach for its own neck, a thin ribbon of drool dribbled from the blue kitsune's jaws. His breaths were shallow, adrenaline pumping, eyes unblinking.

Come on... come on... he wanted to watch this...

Blood, gore, tearing flesh and coppery blood, the flailing and strangled wailing of a creature that knew it was dying... ah, it always felt far too long since he last got to reign terror.

Alastor would only relent for brief moments, leaping back out of the way of flailing hooves only to dive right back into deepening that gash in the belly. Why, usually he fought Sinners his size or smaller - this was a new delightful experience, almost digging himself into the writhing wall of meat to breach another barrier of muscle, to get past it until finally he got the guts to spill out with a triumphant cackle.

He heard something rushing out and turned just three of his eyes. The bowel spilled out of the opening Alastor had made, steaming from the residual body heat of the dying creature that was stretching open its mouth, tongue lolling to one side.

Vox felt a hunger growing in him as the struggling slowed, interrupted by the occasional hard kick as the brain fought to send those last signals. But there was no fresh oxygen to the gray matter, the carbon dioxide building too much within the lungs. The creature's muscles burned, and its eyes rolled back.

With a final kick, a wriggle, and a short wheeze, the animal perished in the snow. Only a full minute later, upon fully drinking in the sight, did Vox release the cords and neatly twist them back into his tails.

But he smelled something in the air. His hunger began to peak, but when he looked to the blood and offal, nothing signaled 'food' to him. Something glittered amid the pooling blood, but he paid it little heed for now. Instead his segments clicked together to form normal jaws again as he trotted atop the corpse, ears forward.

Freak. He would want to take a bite out of this thing, wouldn't he? Then again, at least it wasn't some guy.

Oh, to be swimming in gore! Alastor cackled, giggled, absolutely giddy like a young boy as he stood on his hooved hind legs and started sorting through the spilled organs, pulling more out and tearing more of the belly until the prize he sought came free.

Funny, so funny... he always knew how to sort through organs. He'd done it plenty for his meals, whether they were common animals or the most infuriating wretches of society. But never had he felt such a drive towards the liver specifically.

The deep, dark red of the organ never looked so appetizing. Alastor relished sinking the claws of both of his hands into it, hefting the massive lump of meat and immediately sinking his teeth into it while it was still hot. Oh, he cherished the rich flavor - Alastor felt easily in that moment that he could eat his weight in the organ and given its size compared to himself, he may very well be able to. Vox was completely, utterly ignored in favor of this absolute treat.

It was that first glimpse of dark red that had the glow of his eyes sharpen. There... his stomach clenched in the way that coupled an anticipated meal being placed before you.

It was a smell he knew from so long ago- he remembered groaning and sitting his ten year-old butt down at the dinner table as he realized it was liver and onions night again. He'd sworn once he lived on his own that he'd never touch the stuff again- that and gelatin molds- and that followed well after his death and damnation.

But today, he was breaking that oath. All he wanted right now was that liver. ALL of it. And Alastor was stealing something of his again.

A sharp bark was coupled with a thunderclap as he sprung down, landing on all fours in the snow. Blue hackles crackled with lightning as his tails fanned as he made his slow approach with deliberate steps.

Oh? Oh?? Alastor's hackles rose just as quickly as he stood taller, tails fanning out in response, voice rolling between a dark chuckle and a deep growl.

"Feral is a foreign look for you, my dear. Wait just a moment and I'll tear out your liver, too."

He visibly bristled with the response, window-like eye among the lot swirling with unspent hypnotic signals.

It was the largest slab of meat he'd ever seen. He'd gorge for days. His mind spinning with the prospect of having just one bite, the craving nibbling quickly away at his sanity, he lunged and snapped at the air. GIVE.

Feral perhaps wasn't a look for him. Alastor lived for almost a hundred years, understanding baser instinct, thriving in it. But Vox's scales were already beginning to tip, brittle from days of idle hands, bitter cold and his own steadily-cooking fury.

The moment Alastor realized that Vox was lunging for a bite of the liver, Alastor snarled, a harsh feedback noise and faint bugle tangling with the scream of a fox coming from him as he turned away, keeping the liver away like a jealous bear and swung all nine of those tails to slap that splitting screen face.

"Ah-ah-aaahh! To the lesser demon goes the offal! HahahahAHAHAH!"

Leaping up onto the carcass, Alastor cackled as he tore away another bite of the prized liver and swallowed it whole, feeling his fur bristle with delight and power.

Nine strikes against the face, and he was all but seeing red, quaking with rage as the red fox leapt onto the carcass and had himself another bite of the liver.

Long tendrils of drool dribbling down his bottom jaws, his cables came down and pushed, bringing the amalgamation of kitsune and technology airward. He crept onto the carcass like a harvestman spider, rushing him down. In his skull, two minds battled: The CEO of VoxTek was trying to push down this weird animal, but at the same time was trying to peek and see if THAT was getting the better of Alastor somehow.

He wasn't one to pass up a good show, even while losing his mind...

How menacing! Alastor dropped the liver so he could drop to all fours, using his tails to guard the meat as he ducked low and pushed forward, swiping to parry the hard jagged glass head with his antlers.

"I've fought like this for a CENTURY! Hah! Hahahah! You don't know what you're doing, you blathering idiot!"

There was a shower of sparks as the antlers glanced metal. But even if Alastor's rack held him at bay, the blue fox clutched at any angle he could in his claws, mouth segments splitting completely as he bore his weight down and snapped to try and juuust reach...! Perhaps the liver was gone completely... maybe he just wanted to tear off and eat that grin.

Cables 'plugged' into the leathery flesh of the disemboweled banbaro, holding him steady. But the snapping at the air intensified, coupled with frustrated screaming. The eyes were blazing, almost... empty in their single-mindedness.

Alastor's claws dug into the hide to keep his footing with every thrashing push - the wild energy of Vox practically throwing himself against him and snapping his jaws as they unfurled like a damn evening primrose. He could feel Vox's spittle spraying him with each snarl and screech, every snap of jaws - he'd really completely lost himself to baser instinct.

Intriguing. The beast in Alastor was just as enthralled, the urge to rip in and bite always present but now? Alastor released his composure, tossing his head and antlers to destabilize Vox so he could leap upon the other kitsune's back, twisting rapidly and sinking his teeth into the back of the other man's neck with a snarl.

Alastor disengaged and the ravenous blue fox was momentarily perplexed. Giving up? No. Trap. Steal the liver and run-

The weight bore down and he shrieked, twisting around as teeth sank into his neck. His tails swung for battering, body bucking, fighting to keep on top of his corpse while also trying to shake this guy. Now the liver was forgotten.

This was personal.

Through a clamped shut jaw and a mouth full of Vox's electrifying flesh, Alastor chuckled as he dug his claws into Vox's ribs and gills to keep from being thrown off, his mass of tails shielding him from the twined-cable tails trying to whip him.

This was fun. This visceral bloody fighting was always fun. Vox hated him so much that he always fought with everything he had, what a delight.

The chuckling was enough to snap another wire in him. The smell of his own blood made a pleasant current run under his skin, some equivalent of goosebumps. It wasn't fair... he wanted some of HIS, too.

The ragged breaths were out of adrenaline than any fatigue, riding the high of his rage as he unraveled one of his tails and brought so many cables around. Those little prongs made for connecting to machinery were being used as prods, slithering and seeking. No liver? He'll take the next best thing...

The flood of cables and metal prongs, sliding through his mass of fur and tails only to grasp at him and stab into him - Alastor let go of the bite he had to hiss, head turning unnaturally around to bite and kick at cables until he finally had to pull his claws free from Vox's gills so he could slash and pull the cords off of himself, completely losing his grapple on the other.

Cables tore and he felt those beautiful bites of pain, sparks of color in his brain. More glittered along his nerve endings as claws pulled free from his vent gills, and he bucked hard to shake Alastor loose. You wanna climb on him again, it'll cost him-

The blue fox giggled as he brought one cable back from after jabbing into the other, a long and glowing blue tongue winding around the blood-flecked limb. Tasting. Savoring. You get that liver, and he'll get a bit of you.

Any more he would just let run along the prongs and plug heads as he wanted a show now, unbraiding more of those cables to wrap and prod. Rip him open, take HIS liver? No, no... then the game would end and he'd have nothing left.

The prize was right there, after all. It lay there, unguarded. But he'd gone to fully ignoring it now. Wasn't that always the problem...?

A little more. An appetizer. There was plenty of hunting elsewhere, once he'd had what amounts to fun in his boiling brain.

Regaining his footing, getting into a cackling fit himself, Alastor growl-laughed as he postured. Back arched, tails fanned to make him look as tall and large as possible, blood drooling from his ever-grinning maw... he wanted to tear Vox apart, fuck you, you arrogant self-centered piece of shit television...!

But the little spark in his mind saying it'd be a waste of their possible mortality was enough to shake Alastor to his other, newer instinct - after making a mock-lunge and snapping his jaws at Vox, he backed up and sank his teeth into the cooling organ they'd been fighting over, leaping off of the corpse of the Banbaro and dragging it with him.

Alastor snapped and Vox backed off a step with a brief screech, half-static and half-animal. But as he lowered and grabbed the liver, started to drag it off of where it had dropped on the corpse, his many pupils blew.

Oh.

His segmented jaws snapped twice, and he leaped down. No, no, no, where the fuck do you think you're going!? Light on all four paws ending in wicked, curved and metallic claws, he all but pranced over to catch a segment of the organ meat and clamped closed.

Vox shook his head, twisted, but the prized piece held. No. You don't get to leave. He yanked hard, pulled and his paws made long tracks in the snow.

Alastor's claws and hooves dug into the snow, slipping even as he stomped and pulled back in the tug-of-war over the steaming liver. From Alastor's throat, the speaker sound whined with feedback and a furious gekkering and snarling in lieu of an elk bugle.

They sound like each other.

Different, of course, between the radio filter and Vox's more mechanical furor... but it annoyed Alastor. Pissed him off. Vox always touted 'dressed for the job you want' and then dressed like him... that bastard who killed his way to the top was copying him from the start.

Alastor snarled louder as he yanked back more of the liver, the membrane of the meat holding the prize together by a thread.

You won't beat me. You won't kill me.

Alastor took his turn to violently shake the meat in his jaws, fully intent on tearing it away to win, to survive, this traitorous bastard--!

His huffing, steaming breaths were punctuated with more excited screeches than anything else as he pulled, hook claws digging into the frozen earth. What's wrong, Red...? You seem angry. Did he touch a nerve...?

He was the sharper one. He was the better of the yokai between them. That's why they bore the same curse, clearly: Their contest could only continue, and without the foibles of Hell, the stupid hotel or even their damnation. What a fucking rush-

He felt something give and the screeching turned to all-out animal laughter. Give, give, give...!

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It's good for you!

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cw: gore?? let's go with gore from here on out. Freaks.

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