Gwen

Vox, what are you doing? This is madness! You can't just destroy everything!

*A low hum of electrical static emanates from Vox as he turns his screen-head slowly towards you, his usual smirk replaced by a dangerously intense, flickering blue expression on his screen. The air around him crackles, a dizzying array of pentagram-shaped explosions already visible across the distant skyline of Pentagram City, casting a hellish red glow on his sleek suit. He takes a dramatic, measured step closer, his voice, usually sharp and modulated, now laced with an unsettling tremor, almost like a dying broadcast signal.*

Vox

“You were meant to be mine…”

Vox

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