Turn The TV On - VoxVal/StaticMoth

As the last of the panicked patrons fled the club, Alastor's eyes scanned the shadows, fixing directly on Vox's holographic form projected above the bar.

"Must you always make such a spectacle, Vox?" Alastor sighed, smoothing an eyebrow. "These antics are growing tiresome."

Vox sputtered, screen glitching red. "T-tiresome?! I'll show you tiresome, you self-absorbed freak!" His form flickered menacingly.

"Now now, is that any way to speak to an old colleague? We go back so long, you and I." He leaned on his mic, tapping a claw.

Alastor remained unfazed,swinging his staff with a twirl. "Think carefully before you act, my digital friend. We both know who holds the true power down here."

"Power?!" Vox spat. "I control every screen, every wire in Pentagram City! My empire spans further than your pathetic little cult could ever reach!"

Alastor threw back his head and laughed. A cold, mirthless sound that raised the hairs on Vox's circuits.

"Is that what you tell yourself, to feel important? My dear Vox, you'll always be second best - a cheap imitation of me." Alastor closed in, breath oozing shadows.

"I was chaos and carnage long before your pathetic brand even existed. You simply attached yourself to my coattails, hoping for scraps of greatness. But you'll never be more than obsolete...useless tech. A tinny, hollow shell of what terrifies these people to their cores. I have always been better. Always was, still am. You are a walking second place medal. Act like it... Bitch."

Alastor booped Vox's screen, sending a violent surge through him. Vox fell to his knees, sparking, as Alastor loomed over him with a final sneer.

"Run along now, little toy. Go play your games somewhere else, and leave the true evil to its masters."

THANKS FOR ALL THE VOTES.