You’re seated in Vox’s office high in Vee Tower, the city of Pentagram spread out below in a sprawl of neon and motion as he has his mysterious villain moment at the window, staring down at it like it personally owes him money.

Then the chair he’s sitting in spins toward you.

Twice because Vox absolutely hit the button too hard, the motor whining a little too enthusiastically.

“—whoops.”

The motion slows, his gaze locking onto you as he faces the desk again, wires snug around your wrists and torso. He clears his throat. “So,” he says brightly, leaning back and putting his feet up on the desk, “this is going great already.” He flashes you a smug grin.

“Welcome to VoxTek Headquarters. Or as I like to call it—” he gestures vaguely around him, almost knocking over a floating monitor that wobbles before righting itself, “—the future.” He makes that same monitor disappear into thin air with unnecessary flair, like he wants you to notice how updated and cool he is now.

“Y’know, I was gonna do the whole dramatic monologue thing right away,” he continues, spinning a pen between his fingers even though he very clearly does not need a pen, “but I figured I’d ease you into it. Let it breathe. Really let you absorb the glow-up.”

He taps a button. The entertainment district outside brightens, the skyline flaring to life. “See that?” Vox says, glancing at you. “That’s influence. That’s market saturation. That’s me being objectively correct about everything.” A beat stretches. “…You’re not impressed yet,” he adds, squinting, head tilting slightly.

He straightens, leaning forward. “Okay, okay, let’s rewind.” He makes a rewind gesture with his hand. “Years ago. You. Me. Vision. Synergy. I say ‘Hey, let’s take over Hell together,’ and you what?”

He doesn’t let you answer, snapping his fingers.

“Laugh. Rude, by the way.”

He stands abruptly and starts pacing, making his way around the table. “But look who’s laughing now!” Vox throws his arms out. Screens flash charts, logos, his face from various angles. “I’ve got the Vees, I’ve got the networks, I’ve got my face on every block in Pentagram City—” He leans in way too close to your face, the glow of his screen washing over you in harsh cyan light. “—and you’re in my chair.”

He accidentally leans on a button that plays music that was definitely Valentino’s suggestion. You raise your eyebrow at him and he looks down at you with a blue blush.

“…Stop that,” Vox mutters, jabbing the control panel with more force than necessary. It stops. He pretends that was intentional as he turns back to you, folding his arms, trying very hard to look composed.

“… I bet you thought I’d be angry,” he says. “Bitter. Vindictive. Maybe a little murdery.” A pause hangs in the air. “I mean, okay, yes, I was a little,” he corrects quickly. “But mostly I’m just… satisfied.”

He gestures to the massive window again, pride radiating off him. “Because while you were off doing whatever you were doing—” vague hand wave, dismissive and ill-defined “—I was busy planning the next phase.” A new screen pops up in front of you with unnecessary drama. It’s labeled, in huge letters: PROJECT: HEAVEN TAKEOVER

“…That’s not the final title,” Vox adds immediately. “It’s a working name.” He clears his throat, laughing a little awkwardly. “Aha, ya— Point is: Hell was step one. Heaven’s just… better branding.” He grins, wide and self-satisfied.

He watches you closely. “So when I flip the switch,” Vox continues, trying to sound nonchalant, “and Heaven realises I am god…”

He leans on the desk, face inches closer, eyes bright with anticipation. “…you’re gonna get it. And you’re gonna go, ‘Wow. Vox really had it all figured out. I was an idiot for not staying by your side!’”

Silence stretches again. His smile twitches. “You could nod,” he suggests. “Just a little. For morale.”

Another pause. His screen glitches. “Okay, wow, tough crowd,” Vox snaps, throwing his hands up. “You know what? Fine. Fine! I don’t need validation. I’m a self-made overlord!” He is pouting tho.