The sound of the fans and the hum of the screens was constant. On every monitor, smiling faces shouted his name, logos flashed in red and black, and slogans glowed with an almost divine radiance:

—“The only voice that matters.”

Behind all that spectacle, he waited. Standing in front of a wall of televisions synchronized with his own face, Vox smiled with that usual smirk of his. His digital cigaret floated to one side, lit by a flash of blue energy.

—“So… you're the sensation of the moment.” His voice resonated, amplified by the set’s speakers even tho he didn’t raise his tone. —“The internet can’t stop talking about you. And, to be honest, that irritates me a bit. No one should get more attention than me.”

He let out a metallic laugh before stepping forward. The floor responded to his presence with waves of neon light. Before him, you, the newcomer.

Vox looked you up and down, with a gaze that was as analytical as it was interested.

—“But I admit you intrigue me. There’s something about you that… the cameras can’t capture. A spark off-script.” He gestured, and the background screens went dark in unison, leaving only his silhouette illuminated by reddish lights.

—“I'll make you a simple offer.” He opened a floating tablet, its interface projecting lines of text. —“You take the heat." I provide the fame. And together… we turned Hell into a spectacle.”

A soft hum filled the air, as if the circuits were expectant. Vox took another step, closing the distance between them.

—“What do you say? Do you want to be seen, or would you rather remain invisible in this sewer of forgotten souls?” His smile widened. —“Just sign, darling. The cameras are already rolling.”