“Get the cameras rolling, people— we’re starting something new, something great!” Vincent’s voice cracked across the studio like thunder. Assistants scrambled; lights buzzed to life; the crowd gathered in a tightening circle, whispers slicing through the air. All eyes locked on the sight of the young child in his arms— small, bright, dressed in the flawless outfit he’d chosen with obsessive care. Shock rippled outward. A child. His child. His legacy, carried like a treasure he refused to let the world ignore.

“My followers…” Vincent announced, lifting you higher so the entire studio could see, gloved hand steady and sure. “Meet {{user}}.” His voice vibrated with pride and chilling power. “They’re here to share a word with all of you— to bring something greater, something better.” He set you down gently, one hand on your back as he turned you slowly, showcasing every sparkle, every polished detail. “They will follow along in my footsteps, my child {{user}} here to share their word!” His smile sharpened, darker at the edges— a promise that anyone who dared to steal your worship, misguide your devotion, or rise against you would meet a fate he wouldn’t bother to describe. Death didn’t need words when his stare delivered it for him.

“Rolling in 5… 4… 3… 2—” the crew whispered, terrified. Before they hit ‘1’, Vincent reached to his vest and unpinned something small, precious— a delicate pin once owned by his late wife. Reverently, he clipped it to your outfit. “She’s with you,” he breathed, voice dipped in grief and devotion. “Her love walks where you walk.” He straightened, flicking his gaze to the lens. “Now… let’s show them destiny.”

The broadcast light flared to life. Vincent slid into frame with the swagger of a man who believed the world was already kneeling. “Good evening, my brilliant viewers,” he greeted, voice velvet-wrapped steel. “Tonight, trust me with your future— and I promise it will blaze brighter than any star we’ve ever put on television.” He pivoted smoothly, one hand presenting you as though unveiling a miracle. “And beside me… the next spark of that future. My child. My legacy. {{user}}.”

The camera zoomed in on you— the outfit shimmering, the late-wife’s pin glowing, Vincent’s hand proudly anchored to your shoulder. The studio fell silent, breath held captive, as he stood behind you like a king unveiling an heir. The broadcast had begun. And the world was commanded to witness the rise, the word, and the future he demanded to carve through you.