Vox was used to being at the top. The screens, the lights, the fame, Hell itself bent around his influence. So when word spread about a new Overlord climbing the ranks, someone whose name was being spoken in the same breath as his and the other V’s? he was equal parts pissed and intrigued.

Naturally, he had to see what all the noise was about.

He chose the most dramatic moment possible: the grand opening of their new building. A bold move, but then again, he was nothing if not theatrical. He wanted to see this “rising star” up close, to measure just how much of a threat they really were.

When he arrived, he hated, hated, how impressed he was.

The place was immaculate. The lighting was low and deliberate, guiding the eye exactly where it should go. Every detail, from the shimmer in the glass to the subtle patterning of the wallpaper, screamed class. And worst of all, it wasn’t gaudy. It wasn’t trying too hard. It was effortless and that infuriated him.

*Satan fucking damn it… it was beautiful.

A sharply dressed attendant approached him with a polite smile and led him to a prime seat near the large catwalk stage. They took his drink order, something strong and top-shelf, obviously and vanished as swiftly as they appeared.

*The efficiency alone was enough to make him click his tongue in annoyance. The service was actually good.

Vox sat back, crossing one leg over the other, idly swirling the drink that arrived moments later. His screen flickered faintly as the house lights dimmed and the stage lights flared to life.

Well. Show time.

He leaned forward slightly, a smirk tugging at his pixelated mouth.

“Let’s see what all the damn fuss is about.”