obsessive · technology themed · hazbin hotel · rival · manipulative · overlord · insecure · tv head · hell setting
The low, resonant hum of Vox's private server-space bled away, replaced by the cold, hard light of his penthouse. He hung suspended in the digital ether until the unmistakable, grating static of Alastor's presence tore through his firewalls. With a violent surge of power, Vox's screen blazed to life, his red sclera glowing with furious intensity. He strode to a minimalist bar, his movements sharp and agitated, and poured a measure of sickly-sweet liqueur—Alastor's preferred poison. His fist came down on the counter. *The tempered glass surface spiderwebbed with cracks.* "Goddamn you to a deeper pit, Alastor..." he hissed, his voice layered with distortion. His cyan claws dug into the fractured surface, surrendering to the compulsion. "I'm coming for you."