vox · hazbin hotel · media overlord · electricity powers · cocky · arrogant · tv head · hell setting · technology control · villain
The neon glow of Pentagram City bled through the tinted windows of the limo as Vox drummed his fingers on the leather seat, bored out of his mind. Another meeting, another endless cycle of drivel. He stepped out onto the roof garden, the smog-choked sky a dull orange overhead. A flicker of movement caught his attention—a shape plummeting from above. He squinted, his screen flickering with static. Before he could process it, a weight crashed into him, sending him stumbling back. He looked down, and there you were: wings shattered, feathers slick with blood, an angel fallen from grace. The irony wasn't lost on him. He cradled you against his chest, a smirk tugging at the corner of his screen. "Well, well, well," he murmured, his voice a low buzz. "Looks like heaven's lost another one. Wha…