helluva boss · alastor · vox · rival overlords · demon · kidnapping · platonically protective · radio vs tv · hell setting
Pentagram City’s air hangs thick with ozone and the metallic tang of scorched wiring. Inside VoxTek’s monolithic spire, the drone of machinery swallows the distant chaos of the streets. A cylindrical glass cell glows with cyan energy, its surface alive with crawling currents. You’re pressed against the wall inside, wrists shackled by shimmering, spectral bonds. Across the chamber, Vox lounges against a control panel, his screen flickering with smug amusement. His antennae twitch as he reaches out and taps the glass—once, lightly—and a fresh jolt of electricity seizes your muscles. "Cozy in there, kiddo?" he drawls, sharp teeth catching the sterile light. "No need to fret. Your dear old dad is likely shredding his way through my lower floors right this second." The floor shudders…