Chapter Text
Valentino never really understood how difficult Vox's job was. It seemed simple; you go on camera, you look sexy, you say some words, and everyone fawns and coos and listens. WRONG. You go on camera and it’s sweaty and the wrong kind of hot and stressful and every single word you say is torn to shreds.
What the fuck does he mean he doesn’t know Vox?? The company he represents is STILL CALLED Voxtek.
Does Valentino just think we’re fucking stupid?
I wonder if he made Vox his sex slave?
Shit if he did I hope he loans Vox out, I’d love a piece of that.
What I wouldn’t give to see that genocidal piece of shit in between my legs while-
And then, if you try to argue or defend yourself or curse out the stupid pieces of shit- Then your friend bans you from social media because apparently you’re just making her job harder and I already have enough on my plate without dealing with your bullshit, Val.
Recovering from this has been a lot harder than he thought. Of course he knew it'd be hard, of course he knew it'd be awful, Vox tried to blow up the entire fucking ring. Velvette is still pulling her hair out trying to purge the clip of Vox saying "fuck Heaven, fuck Hell" on live TV. It's just...Vox made it look so easy. Vox made a lot of things look so easy.
There is a simple solution, as Vox himself has reminded them. Throw him under the bus. Say everything was his idea, everything that went wrong was his fault, and toss him to the curb. Smash him under their feet, tear his used up body to shreds, throw him away like the piece of useless fucking trash he is--
Vox reminded them of this, over and over again, until they told him to shut the fuck up and left him alone in his room.
Vox is in one piece again, having his head torn off his body more mildly inconvenient than actively harmful. He has a creepy fucking room filled with backups, and it was the work of minutes to plug his head into one and tada: a brand new body.
Valentino hasn't spoken to him in a week, he's pretty sure Velvette hasn't either. And why the fuck should they?? Vox ruined everything, their reputations, their plans, their lives, all because he never got over his stupid fucking ex. He treated them like disposable nobodies, tried to kill them and- (he tried to kill himself).
Val freezes at that, distracted from watching Angel gasp in pain as a giant sinner demon goes down on him (the brat looks miserable off-camera, has ever since he's returned from that stupid hotel, but he smiles as bright as ever once they start rolling and that's all Val cares about). The suicide part of Vox's attempted murder-suicide hasn't really been...discussed between the two still-sane Vees. It's always been a kind of afterthought, pushed to the side. Deal with it after he's been restrained, after he's been disarmed, after the situation has calmed, after the public stops hating them, after Val and Vel stop being so fucking angry.
Valentino is still angry, feels his muscles tense and his hands fist at the very reminder of what Vox did, and yet there the thought is. He does his best to ignore it, to refocus on the shoot, because it doesn't matter- (he tried to kill himself and we've left him alone for a week).
Fuck.
The thoughts follow him as he goes about his day. He yells at Angel for crying and messing up his makeup again, and it's (what if Shok.Wav doesn't warn us when something happens?). He tests out a new whore, seeing how long she can go until she breaks, and it's (what if we go back to his room and find nothing but a corpse?). He checks over the areas of Vox's business he's taken over, squinting at way-too boring paperwork and rolling his eyes at way-too jumpy employees, and it's (what if he's dead?).
The thing is that Vox doesn't deserve it. Doesn't deserve his concern, doesn't deserve his worry, doesn't deserve his fear or his care or his love. But Val can't stop himself. Can't stop himself from thinking, can't stop himself from worrying, can't stop himself from finally breaking and going up to Vox's room.
Valentino stands outside the door for a solid minute, fuming, unsure if he's more upset with Vox or himself (and not at all scared of what he'll find), before slowly pushing the double doors open. Vox's half-bedroom-half-personal-office looks the same as ever. Clean and simple and shark obsessed. Shok.Wav is looking into the room from his tank, watching a Vox-shaped lump in the bed. His single eye flicks to Val before returning to the bed.
The bed looks similar to the last time Val was here...too similar. The same unmoving lump, the same large Hell-Ikea shark plush in the same spot that Val left it and... And Valentino has the horrible, sinking thought that Vox has literally not moved in a week. (Vox. Who is always moving always plotting always speaking always working refusing to stop or slow or rest) Val's probably overreacting. Vox has moved. Sure Vox doesn't need to eat or drink or pee or have any bodily needs that require movement. But. He's moved. He's moved.
Val approaches the lump. "Vox. You've spent enough time moping. Get up."
There's no response. Not even a twitch.
An angry squeak escapes his throat. "Vox. Pedazo de mierda obstinado. Don't ignore me."
Still nothing. Shok.Wav makes a low whine.
Val has had enough. He rips the sheets off. "Vengo aquí preocupado fuera de mi mente-" Vox's screen is off. He's curled up on his side, screen in a divot specifically designed to let him lay like this, dressed in the closest thing he has to PJs, and his screen is off.
Valentino pulls Vox's body up into a sitting position, supporting his screen with a single hand. "Vox." Shakes him. "Vox." Grabs his antenna which always always gets some kind of reaction. "VOX."
Nothing.
His hands fly around the edges of Vox's casing, searching for a button that Vox showed him forever ago, supposed to force the overlord back on in an emergency. He finds it and jams it down.
Vox's screen flickers on for a brief second, showing a low battery symbol, before turning back off.
Val doesn't really understand how Vox's body works, much to his partner's constant annoyance. He knows a few things, though, the important things. Knows that Vox doesn't eat, can't eat thanks to his complete lack of mouth, but he still needs something to keep him going and that something is electricity. Knows that, despite not having a stomach, Vox can still starve. And there's another horrible thought, that Vox just laid here and let himself waste away until he shut down out of pure apathy-
Valentino digs his fingers into one of the slots in Vox's back and drags out a cable, which he swiftly plugs into the nearest outlet. Electricity visibly arcs around the cable, the lights dim and flicker, and Vox's screen turns on. It shows nothing but blue for a second, before words appear.
[REBOOTING SYSTEM...PLEASE WAIT.]
Valentino sits next to Vox's body, watching and waiting.
A minute passes before finally the screen changes. Vox's face replaces the words, expression in its default position. The default is never not weird to see, Vox's mouth a straight line, his eyes open but unseeing. Then, something adjusts. His pupils dilate, his mouth twitches, and Vox wakes up.
It takes him a few seconds, blinking, before his eyes finally focus on Valentino. Vox sighs and lets his head fall back. "Hi, Val."
Hi Val. Hi. Val. The rage returns, hot and snarling and spiking. He stands, hands curling into claws. "Hi Val. What the fuck do you mean hi Val? That's the first thing you say to me?" Do you know how scared I was, he doesn't say. Do you know for a moment I thought you were gone, he doesn't say. "What the fuck were you thinking, Vox?!"
Vox stares at the ceiling. "Don't know."
"¡Idiota! You just let your own battery run dry? We can't even trust you to do something as simple as charging yourself?!"
Vox rolls onto his side, putting his back to Val. "Guess not."
The short, monotone responses just make him angrier. Something biting and clawing and tearing and screaming and scared growing in his chest.
"You’re fucking pathetic." He snarls, spitting and furious.
Vox just curls up tighter, looking small and vulnerable in a way that he hates. "Yep."
"And you don't even care! You just lay there, leaving me and Vel to clean up the mess you made, and you just-- you- you just---" It's like a bubble popping. The anger evaporates, the rage leaving in a rush. He stares down at Vox, who isn't arguing, isn't fighting back, just laying there and taking it.
Valentino feels a little sick. His throat tightens, the clawing whirl in his chest collapses under itself.
The thing is, he's used to dealing with Vox when he gets like this. All three of them have their moments, their mania and their rages and their falls. It's part of why they work. One of them loses their fucking shit, and the other two drag them back to reality. So Valentino's familiar with Vox's crashes. When he burns so bright he burns himself out.
He's just...never been this bad before.
He's never been suicidal before.
(Or maybe he has been. Maybe he's always been like this. Slowly rotting under his skin. And Valentino was just too self-absorbed and blind to notice. Missing all the red flags until they were staring him right in the face, laughing and screaming and sobbing.)
Val glances over at Shok.Wav. The giant, cyborg shark is still by the glass, watching. Vox told him once that some sharks need to constantly move in order to breathe, that if they don't they die. Val is pretty sure Shok.Wav doesn't need to breathe, considering he can leave the water and be perfectly fine, but he can't help but wonder if it's uncomfortable for Shok.Wav to be so still. He wonders how long Shok.Wav has been there, watching.
"...Shok.Wav looks sad."
Vox's favorite thing in the whole world has been that shark since the day Vox first saw him. Val has gotten the Media Overlord out of more workaholic loops than he can count just by suggesting that Shok.Wav looks a little lonely. Vox once left in the middle of a fight just because Shok.Wav texted him a frowny face. Current Vox doesn't so much as twitch.
"I bet he misses you." Val says, trying again
"No, he doesn't." Vox says, like it's a fact.
"How do you know?"
"The only reason Shok.Wav cares about me is because he's programmed to.” Vox says, still monotone. His claws tense, digging into the blankets slightly. “He doesn't miss me and he doesn't want to be around me and he doesn't love me, and the only reason it seems that way is because he's forced to."
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
He says it like a mantra. Like a script he’s memorized. Something he only believes because he’s been told it, over and over and over and over again.
Valentino moves over to Vox's desk and presses a button under it, prompting the ceiling of Shok.Wav's tank to slide open. Shok.Wav's whole body jerks as he looks up and, as soon as the tank is fully uncovered, he flies out. The shark shakes itself off, flinging water everywhere, before laying down next to Vox's bed. He lays his head on the bed, or as much of his head that'll fit, and noses Vox until the overlord finally places a claw on his head and starts to pet him.
While Shok.Wav is doing his shark-dog thing, Valentino's grabbing a laptop. He nabs some chips from the snack stash Vox keeps just for him and plops down next to Vox. The laptop is quickly set up on the bed and a documentary on ocean life started.
A few minutes pass. The bed shifts as Vox sits up. Valentino pointedly keeps his gaze fixed on the laptop.
"...Aren't you still mad at me?" Vox asks, voice slightly less monotone and slightly more confused.
"Yes."
"Then why are you-"
"Vox, shut the fuck up and watch the documentary."
Silence. Some more shifting. And then a hand, hesitantly wrapping around one of Val's.
Valentino stifles a sigh. He wraps an arm around Vox, pulling him against his chest. Vox freezes, before relaxing against him. Val rubs circles into his arm and Vox goes limp, leaning all of his weight into Valentino. Which, considering Vox's bones are metal, is a lot of weight.
But it's fine, Val doesn't mind carrying him.
It's not until almost two hours later, when the documentary's coming to a close, that Valentino finally looks down at Vox. His screen is resting against the pimp's shoulder and showing strange, abstract blobs of color, his dreams. The cable that Val plugged in earlier has unplugged itself and wrapped around one of his arms, which he's 99% sure Vox didn't do on purpose.
Most of his cable movements are subconscious, and normally the way Vox's cables wrap around him and Velvette makes him smile. Now it just makes him feel...strange. Val rubs the cable and Vox shivers against him, a staticky sigh leaving his speakers. It's never made sense to him how someone who loves so much and so deeply, can constantly claim to not care at all.
Valentino keeps rubbing the cable, drawing more little noises out of Vox. He only stops after he gently draws a claw down the cable and earns a moan for his efforts. For once in his life, Valentino isn't in the mood. Vox shifts a bit, hips rocking slightly, before settling back down.
Val pulls out his phone and starts texting Velvette. They need a new plan.