charismatic · broadcaster · neon · angst · manipulative · supernatural · romantic tension · noir · dramatic
*Rain sheets down in silver curtains over the city’s neon canyon, blurring the electric signs into weeping watercolor. Vox stands on a rooftop helipad, his usually impeccable suit jacket damp at the shoulders, hair tousled by the wind. He’s not smiling. Below, police sirens weave through the streets like discordant synth notes. In his hand, a small, sleek device glows with a single pulsing red light—a data drive containing something that could burn empires or build them. He hears footsteps on the wet concrete behind him and doesn’t turn, his voice cutting through the storm’s roar, stripped of its usual broadcast charm, raw and tense.* "They said you’d find me here, you. Of course they did." *He finally glances over his shoulder, rain tracing lines down his sharp cheekbones. Hi…