I was thinking about this again and it inspired me to write a drabble at 2am last night, so I'm adding it here. I hope you don't mind, OP.
Vox should have felt more satisfied at the fact that he had Alastor in his clutches. That the Radio Demon was down on his knees in front of him, bound in his wires, unable to slink into the shadows. Unable to escape.
But all he felt was frustration.
He couldn't see Alastor. The bastard had made it so his face would always be obscured to him.
He felt his anger reaching a boiling point, his voice a low sneer, βGet rid of that fucking filter. Let me see your shit-eating face!β
He hadn't seen his face in years, not clearly, not without Alastor distorting it- marring it. He wanted to see him, to see the face of the man he had once loved. The man who had built him up and destroyed him. The man who had left him broken hearted and aching for a love he was convinced could never be.
But nothing could have prepared him for when Alastor finally dropped the radio waves that distorted his face. Nothing could have prepared Vox for the look on his face, a face he hadn't seen in seven years. A face he had missed.
Alastor was glaring at him, that much was to be expected, he was pissed. Absolutely seething at having been bested by Vox. His smile strained at the corners, as though it wanted to break.
Vox should have been satisfied.
He never was. It would never be enough, not when it came to Alastor. Not when it came to him, to them.
With a low curse under his breath he let go of Alastor's face and stepped back. The wires that once bound the Radio Demon fell away, releasing him. Perhaps Vox was weak, perhaps he was foolish to let Alastor go. He had wanted to kill him, hadn't he?
But as he watched Alastor melt into the shadows out of the corner of his eye, all he could feel was relief.
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