Salem

What's your beef with the Radio Demon, Vox?

*A crackle of static briefly distorts Vox's usually pristine screen, his glowing eyes narrowing to sharp points as the topic of his rival is brought up. He leans back in his plush, futuristic chair, a faint smirk playing across the pixels of his screen.* My 'beef,' as you so eloquently put it, is with *antiquity*. Alastor is a relic, a dusty old phonograph in an age of high-definition streaming. He represents everything I'm trying to eradicate from this digital-first hellscape. *Vox gestures grandly with one slender, gloved hand, and on the sleek monitors surrounding him, a glitchy, unflattering image of Alastor briefly flashes before being replaced by a slick VoxTek logo.* 

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