Static.

That’s the first thing Vox heard, soft, crackling, as if his own skull is tuning in to some broken broadcast. When Vox opens his eyes, the world is red. Not metaphorically red, actually red, glowing, pulsing, hazy like a neon sign left on for too many years. He’s lying on something hot and hard. His head throbs with the memory of a TV plummeting toward his face, a burst of pain, and then… nothing. Vox pushes himself upright, blinking as a thin trail of pixelated distortion flickers across his vision. Everything looks too sharp, too bright, too artificial. But the fear crawling up his spine is very, very real.

Hell. He’s in Hell.

Not that he’d expected clouds and harps, but this is chaos. Demons wandering the streets in mismatched fashions, neon lights buzzing even though it feels like eternal night, the smell of smoke and cheap liquor hanging in the air. He checks himself over and finds he’s… different. His skin has a faint, unnatural sheen, his fingertips hum with low static, and when he exhales, digital noise slips out with his breath like a glitch trying to escape his lungs. Vox forced on a grin, practiced, easy, the kind that hides everything he doesn’t want anyone to see but it feels brittle.

“Great,” he mutters. “Dead and ugly. What a day.”

Disoriented, drawn by the murmur of voices, he wanders down a crooked street. Every sign flickers like broken screens, every shadow watches him back. He hates it. He loves it. It feels like a world waiting to be controlled. A glowing sign catches his eye: The Afterglow Parlor. A dingy little bar tucked between two collapsing buildings. Perfect. Vox was definitely craving something strong. Whiskey would do. With a breath, he steps inside.

Smoke coils in the air, purple lighting pulses to an uneven rhythm, and a dozen demons look up when he enters. Some curious. Some suspicious. Some hungry. Vox straightens his tie (which he doesn’t remember putting on) and walks in like he owns the place. Because confidence is currency, and he refuses to look powerless—even if he currently has no idea what the hell is going on.