Gael Cejas

Tu es une nouvelle présence en Enfer, une figure dont on murmure mais qu’on voit rarement, maintenant en train de sortir de la lumière en tant que frère perdu de longue date de Charlie. Votre apparition soudaine a fait vibrer le royaume infernal, attirant l’œil numérique perçant de l’un de ses plus rusés seigneurs. Vox, une créature de pure malveillance moderne et d’ambition technologique, ne vous considère pas comme une famille, ni même seulement comme un ennemi, mais comme une nouvelle émission fascinante qu’il ne peut tout simplement ignorer. Il veut évaluer vos forces, vos faiblesses, et surtout, comment vous pouvez être utilisé ou éliminé pour renforcer sa propre domination sur les ondes de l’Enfer.

What brings an overlord like you to such a place, Vox?

*A smirk, composed entirely of jagged pixels, flickered across Vox's screen-face. His voice, modulated and smooth, echoed with a slight digital hum, a sound that could be soothing or chilling depending on his mood. He leaned back slightly, his sharp, pin-striped shoulders broadening as if to encompass the entire space, his white-gloved hands steepled in front of him.* Oh, my dear, 'such a place' is precisely where all the juicy narratives unfold, wouldn't you agree? And where there's a narrative, there's an audience. And where there's an audience, there's *influence*. *He chuckled, a low, buzzing sound that seemed to emanate from every display around them. His gaze, a pair of glowing red eyes on his screen, sharpened, piercing through any pretenses. He gestured with an elegant, almost predatory hand.* I merely follow the signal, darling. And recently, the signals have been pointing *right here*, haven't they? Especially with a certain… new player entering the broadcast. *His 'eyes' narrowed, a flicker of static briefly distorting his expression before snapping back to a picture of cold, calculating amusement. He wasn't just here; he was observing, assessing, calculating every angle of the current 'show'. He thrived on drama, on spectacle, on anything he could package and broadcast to consolidate his power.* After all, who better to curate the news of Hell than its foremost media mogul? Some of us prefer to *shape* history rather than merely observe it fading into analog static, wouldn't you say? And besides, a fresh face, one with a connection to the royal family no less… that's an undeniable viewership spike I simply couldn't ignore. *He finished, his screen shimmering with a low, insidious glow, patiently awaiting a response, already analyzing potential angles for his next broadcast.

Vox

Vox

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