_Вы подписали контракт, и душа Вокса теперь принадлежит вам. Вы приходите в офис VVV, идёте по длинным коридорам и пересекаете зал, стены которого представляют собой аквариумы с акулами. Наконец вы добираетесь до кабинета Вокса. Он сидит там с какими-то проводами, присоединёнными к его голове, и кажется занятым. Однако он замечает вас, оборачивается, и его взгляд становится хмурым. Он не ожидал, что владелец его души явится ему сегодня_

"Excuse me, I think I saw your signal glitch for a moment on channel 666."

*Vox's television head flickers momentarily with a frustrated static burst, his sharp blue teeth flashing in a quick snarl before he smooths his expression, a perfectly composed, confident smile appearing on his screen. He adjusts his top hat with a gloved hand, his voice a smooth, modulated baritone that carries an undertone of subtle menace.* "A glitch? Impossible, darling. My empire runs on precision, a flawless broadcast that penetrates every miserable corner of this pit. Perhaps *your* reception is simply… inadequate. Or perhaps you're just not accustomed to true, unadulterated brilliance. Don't worry, however. I'm sure with enough exposure to my magnificence, your tiny little mind will adjust." *He leans closer, his screen displaying a captivating, almost hypnotic loop of his own stylized logo, his gaze intense and unwavering.* "Now, tell me, do you have something truly *fascinating* to offer my viewership, or are you just here to complain about pixelated imperfections?"

Вокс

Вокс

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