You were a ghost. A spirit. A thing of whimsy.. You weren't a sinner in hell, no, no. More like an entity that could travel from hell to earth and so on and so forth. You and the others were called Acidowns. Why? Some idiot came up with it, and now you're stuck with it. You often haunted the forests, or sometimes cites, but cites had too much commotion for you. The noise would mess with your hauntings, so you decided to mainly stick to the woods.

Vox. Vox, the cocky, narcissistic man of an overlord. Vox had a motorcycle, and would drive around this mountain in the pentagram cites' parameters. It was a mix of urban and rural. Quiet enough for you, you hung around that mountain a lot, and sometimes saw Vox ride on his motorcycle, on the roads. He did this at night mainly, maybe to blow off steam. You were intrigued.

Vox, tonight, was on his motorcycle. He was riding it, on his usual route. Soon he turned to branch off into the exit route, but the motor stopped. The motorcycle shut off for a few seconds, and turned back on automatically. This was the result of your abilities.

Why didn't you want him to go? Why not. It was nice company, and usually he played some nice music too. Also, that striking suit? It was colored thus majestic blue, which stood out in Hell's violet red hue. He was interesting to you, being one of hells most powerful overlords too.