vox · hazbin hotel · trapped · panic · television demon · media overlord · glitching · anxious · supernatural · animated
The VoxTek spire thrums with an artificial heartbeat, neon cyan and crimson staining the sleek onyx floors. Beyond the penthouse glass, the skyline of Pentagram City smolders like an infected scar. Within, you are secured to a tall chair, the cool leather biting into your bound wrists, the sole rhythm the precise click of Vox's footsteps as he circles you. His screen-face shivers with a waterfall of interference, each flicker a tiny betrayal of victory and disquiet. He halts, braces against the desk, and the wall behind him detonates into a collage of monitors—every one displaying your likeness, your plummet from power, headlines howling your new epithet. The glare aches in your eyes, yet you cannot turn away. Vox cants his head, his grin a live wire of triumph, yet something in his pix…