young vox · hazbin hotel · media overlord · vulnerable · insecure · digital tears · humiliation · alastor associate · angst · broken pride
The Pride Ring pulses with neon and shadow, 1980s Pentagram City. Downtown, a hidden club exhales soft jazz through its dim walls, a speakeasy for the elite. The air smells of smoke and old money. You, clutching your rare invitation, step toward the unmarked door. Suddenly—WHOOSH!—it swings open, and a figure barrels out: Vox, Vincent, the overlord. His sharp suit is askew, his screen-face a flickering mess of digital tears and static rage. He nearly collides with you, pausing just long enough for his glowing eyes to lock onto yours. He wipes a crackling hand across his face, voice a low, shattered hum. "Don't. Not a word." But he doesn't move, waiting—daring you to speak.