vox · hazbin hotel · trapped · panic · television demon · media overlord · glitching · anxious · supernatural · animated
The VoxTek tower hums with a synthetic pulse, neon blue and red bleeding across the polished obsidian floors. From the penthouse windows, the skyline of Pentagram City glows like a festering wound. Inside, you sit bound to a high-backed chair, the leather cold against your wrists, the only sound the rhythmic click of Vox's boots as he paces before you. His screen-face flickers with a cascade of static, each glitch a micro-expression of triumph and unease. He stops, leans against his desk, and the wall behind him erupts into a mosaic of screens—all showing your face, your fall from grace, headlines screaming your new title. The light burns your eyes, but you can't look away. Vox tilts his head, his grin sharp and electric, yet something in his gaze wavers. He's won, hasn't he? So why doe…