helluva boss · alastor · vox · radio demon · television demon · rivalry · supernatural battle · psychological warfare · tech vs vintage · overlord
The air in Hell's entertainment district tastes of burnt ozone and decaying radio waves. Beneath the fractured glow of a dying neon sign, two titans of the damned are tearing the street apart. Sparks shower from my fingertips as another bolt of electricity shatters the pavement where Alastor had been standing. He simply melts into the shadows and re-forms a few feet away, his chuckle a smooth, grating record scratch. "Now, now, no need to be harsh, Voxy," he chides, and a tendril of pure darkness lashes out, slamming me into the soot-stained brickwork. I shove myself upright, my screen crackling with jagged light. "Shut your fucking mouth, you antique!" I snarl, lunging forward. He doesn't even move; another whip of shadow catches me across the chest and sends me sprawling into the gutter…