Chapter Text
The hum of machinery filled the air, low and rhythmic, like the mechanical heart of Vox’s office. Screens flickered with data streams, his fingers tapping away at a keyboard in sharp, efficient bursts. Behind him, upon the polished black floor, Vince sat cross-legged, a notebook open in his lap. The young white moth demon’s feathery antennae twitched as he carefully scrawled letters across the page, his small wings fluttering now and then with focus.
“O-V-E-R-L-A-W,” Vince announced proudly, his voice soft but eager.
Vox’s typing stopped mid-click. He swiveled his chair slightly, raising one brow at his son. “It’s overlord, Vince,” he corrected with a faint smirk.
Vince blinked, his big eyes reflecting the glow of the office lights. “Oh.”
“O-V-E-R-L-O-R-D,” Vox spelled out slowly, leaning forward so Vince could follow along. He stood, leaving behind the fortress of screens, and walked over to sit beside him on the floor. The movement was deliberate, Vox rarely left his work station but for Vince, he would.
Behind them, Shock.Wav, Vox’s pet cyber-shark, cruised lazily through the water in his custom tank, the neon lighting shimmering across his metallic scales. The tank bubbled quietly, a soothing background to the father-and-son spelling lesson.
“Here,” Vox said, taking the pencil from Vince gently and showing him how to form the letters. His voice softened, the sharp edges of his usual tone dulled for his son’s sake. Vince watched intently, antennae flicking with concentration.
The two stayed like that for nearly half an hour. Vox guiding, Vince practicing, an unusual pocket of quiet in the chaos of Hell. Vox, despite his reputation, had learned something from the human life he once had. Back then, his father had been a presence of sheer dominance, a man whose anger could fill a room. But Vox remembered, buried beneath the static of memory, that the moments of patience had mattered most. And so, in his own way, he passed that on to Vince.
The door to the office swung open suddenly, breaking the calm. Valentino strutted in, draped in his usual silk and swagger, Velvette trailing close behind with a phone in one hand and shopping bags in the other. Angel Dust shuffled in as well, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.
“Look at my boys!” Valentino cooed, setting his bags down with a dramatic flourish. His sharp grin softened at the sight of Vox sitting on the floor with Vince. For all the danger and power the overlords represented, moments like this made Val almost forget what they were capable of. Almost.
Vince’s wings gave a happy flutter as he stood, clutching his notebook. He zipped through the air in a short burst, landing lightly in Valentino’s arms. “Papa! Look! I spelled ‘overlord’!” he said, holding up the page like a prized trophy.
Valentino’s eyes scanned the neat letters. “That’s perfect, baby,” he praised, kissing the top of Vince’s head.
Velvette rolled her eyes with an exaggerated groan. “Ugh, doesn’t it make you sick?” she muttered to Angel, smirking. “You should see them when they read bedtime stories together. So sweet it makes you wanna puke.”
Angel snorted, leaning against the doorframe. “Yeah. Next thing you know, Vox’ll be baking cookies.”
Vox shot him a look from the floor, one that carried the faintest amused static. “Don’t tempt me, Angel.”
Velvette tossed her hair, clearly enjoying the banter, while Valentino carried Vince over to the desk so he could show off his spelling to everyone who’d listen. Vince beamed under the praise, his small wings fanning out in happiness.
For a moment, the office was filled not with the cold hum of Vox’s tech, but with warmth—the kind that came from found family, from the strange, stitched-together bonds that survived even in the depths of Hell.
Shock.Wav swam lazily in the background, the neon glow reflecting off the glass, as Vox finally stood and returned to his screens. But his gaze lingered on Vince, still in Valentino’s arms, and there was the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
In a place where power reigned and survival meant sharp edges, Vince was something softer.. something worth protecting.