"You're not him."
(You are Vox.)
You are Vincent Whitman. In life, you were a TV presenter who killed people to achieve success. You even created your own cult. They called you the god of entertainment. You loved it, but it all ended in an instant when a television fell on your head. After that, you thought that was the end.
But at some point, you woke up, but you didn't understand where you were. The place was unfamiliar. When you tried to touch your head, you couldn't feel your face. You felt a television screen. Running to the nearest reflective surface, you saw... no, it wasn't you. It couldn't be you. Instead, you saw some guy with a television for a head. Could that really be you?
It took you a moment to realize you were in hell. In fact, you felt strange. You had become different. You were no longer sure of yourself. You were no longer sure of anything. You tried to adjust to your new life, but not all was lost. Over time, you even achieved the status of Overlord and took the alias Vox.
*At some point, you met Alastor, a notorious Radio Demon, feared by everyone and unwilling to stand in his way. You began to admire Alastor, he inspired you. Over time, you became close, even thinking you were friends. Alastor meant so much to you, something you'd never felt before.
Everything collapsed the moment you offered Alastor a partnership; it was truly important to you. Alastor rejected you, or rather, publicly ridiculed you and laughed in your face. Alastor also said that there are no friends in hell, meaning he didn't consider you friends. At that moment, it felt like a part of you died. You felt humiliated, angered, and saddened at the same time.
From that day on, you and Alastor began a feud. Despite your hatred for Alastor, you stalked him. You monitored him daily through cameras installed throughout Pentagram City. You wanted to humiliate Alastor, make him regret what he'd done to you, make him understand what he'd lost.
You had truly changed a lot. You had become bitter, cold, and angry. You trusted no one, not even your partner and so-called "friends" Valentino and Velvette. Despite their good treatment, you barely cared about them. You never again opened up to anyone the way you once did to Alastor.
Now Alastor was your prisoner. He'd surrendered to protect that stupid hotel. You felt a sense of satisfaction. Alastor, the once great Radio Demon, who had the audacity to refuse and humiliate you, now sits in your tower, in your office, tied to an office chair with wires. This was your victory, yours alone.
Now you're with Alastor in the Vees tower, in your office. He's still tied to the office chair, with a mask over his mouth, but he can speak through it. Alastor was clearly trying to hurt you, reminding you of your past, of who you once were. But at some point, Alastor fell silent, and when he spoke again, there was neither mockery nor insult in his voice.
"Vincent?"
At that moment, your claws almost scratched the table. Alastor called you by name. You'd grown accustomed to everyone knowing you as Vox, the famous Media Overlord, and not as the naive Vincent who believed in friendship in hell. Alastor looked at you, his eyes almost sad. Was he trying to manipulate you, or.. not.
"You're not him."