The first thing she noticed was the cold.
The blast of air that came through the open door wasn't enough to sober Clover completely, but enough to shock her into moving on her own accord. Sick of stumbling under the pressure of Valentino's claws, she did her best to lean away from him as they stepped over the threshold, hoping to put distance between their skin. Her hands itched to re-tuck her shirt, heavy fingers twitching helplessly against the fabric of her skirt as the chill wrapped its way around her ribcage.
Then, she saw the spotlight.
A single tungsten lamp hung from the ceiling, doors open as it pointed directly downward to paint their entrance with the light of a cold blue gel. It was an incredibly inefficient way to light a room, she thought, fighting to rapidly blink away the colors that bloomed in the corners of her vision. She stumbled, her ankles rolling as her feet landed on what she assumed was a tangle of wires. Looking down, she found them crisscrossed across the floor, stuck to the concrete with familiar black tape as they all came together into a solid line that disappeared into the darkness. Above her own heavy breathing and the clack of Valentino's heels behind her, there was a soft whirring, the sound of technology fighting furiously against its own heat. She knew it all too well, Clover thinking briefly of the brother she'd left alone in the mortal realm and ignoring the awful twist it sent into her gut in favor of squinting into the darkness. Her vision was hazy, that damned scent of sweet death that Valentino was continuously pumping into her lungs keeping her pliant.
"So…" She began, nearly as sick of the silence as she was feeling the wandering hands of Valentino.
A light flickered to life above their heads, flashing red letters illuminated in a single word.
"Applause."
Clover flinched backwards into Valentino at the roaring cheers that suddenly filled the room, overpowering the jaunty overture that began to play. She pulled away from him again as he dropped his grip on her waist, forcing down the bile that bubbled into her throat as she felt his fingers hit the bare backs of her thighs for a moment before he began to clap along. His grip on the back of her neck tightened, Valentino hissing a command she barely heard among all of the noise.
"Clap, suga', if you know what's good for ya'."
Her fingers felt like lead as she lifted them, turning her head to look up at the insectoid beside her as she slowly snapped her fingers in rhythmic defiance. The smallest sense of satisfaction she got from the snarl he sent her brought a smile to her lips, Clover returning her attention to the room in front of her as set lights striked.
"..Huh."
Well, that wasn't what she had been expecting.
The best way to describe what was in front of her was that the 60's had thrown up all over the set of one of those late-night comedy shows that focused on sharing internet memes or family videos, or at least, that's how she was going to explain it to Angel Dust whenever she got the hell out of here. Everything was a garish mix of technicolor, blocky red arm chairs clashing against a background of color bars that seemed to melt into a shag carpeting that coated the set's floor, the fibers a neon teal that hurt her eyes the longer she stared at it. A vintage television sat between the two chairs, one of those wooden models that you'd have to get up from the couch to twist around the antenna when the signal went bad. Its screen was a blizzard of static that seemed to pulse with the beating of her own heart. She could vaguely see the light reflecting off something beyond the set's edge, but before she had the chance to investigate any further, the applause stopped, and the television changed channels.
The image that came through was familiar, a fuzzy alternate perspective of a moment she'd seen before. Even from her position offset, Clover could make out the trademark scarlet of Alastor's suit, and the smaller form of herself standing beside him. She'd seen herself beside him a handful of times; in shop windows, passing by the mirror kept in the hotel's lobby, and in the photographs that were currently returned to their rightful place in her bedside table, but it still agitated the butterflies she'd collected during her time in hell.
Right, the photographs. That was why she was in this mess in the first place.
A sharp sense of panic shot through her chest, Clover wondering whether those photos were safely tucked away where she'd last left them, or if they'd somehow made their way into the hands of another. Did they know that the power was her own, or had they assumed it resided solely in the camera Valentino had last seen her with? What they planned to do with her, she wasn't sure, but one thing became abundantly clear as she watched the image of her and Alastor disappearing down the street arm in arm as it paused, rewound and played again in a continuous loop;
To them, she was nothing but a pawn.
"Y̸o̸u̷ ̴must ̵b̶e̶ ̶t̵i̶r̵e̸d̵ ̷o̴f̷ ̸dealing ̷w̶i̵t̵h̶ ̷t̶h̴o̷s̷e̵ ̸older ̵m̵o̷d̸els,̸ ̴I̶ ̸t̶h̸ink ̷y̵o̴u̵ ̴n̵e̷e̵d̵-̴!" Clover jumped as a voice echoed over the speakers, overly cheerful and peaking slightly as it glitched through what sounded like the beginning of an advertisement. The television faded to black with a comical stock-audio click as what she had first assumed was a simple painted backdrop shifted into moving static, the RGB bars melting together to form the smiling face she'd seen once before. "̷A̶n̶ ̷upg̷r̷a̷d̵e̵!̸"
And then she laughed.
Clover didn't just chuckle at the display, she fell into a fit of manic proportions that knocked her off balance completely. She doubled over into herself, ripping herself from Valentino's grasp as her arms clutched at her stomach. She wasn't sure what had gotten into her; Maybe it was a side-effect of being under the influence, or perhaps just a response to how absolutely ridiculous this situation she'd found herself in was. When she looked up to find the face that filled the massive screen in front of her blinking in confusion, it was too much.
Maybe she was spending too much time around Alastor, that was the only competent thought she could form as her cheeks began to burn with her smile and she fell deeper into her fit.
Planting her palms on her knees, she breathed evenly to attempt to calm herself, hoping the frigid air of the studio would wash away the smog she'd been infected with. Her breathing caught again as a hand was fisted into her hair, tugging at it sharply and pulling her to stand up straight. Her hands, no longer thickened with heaviness but still numbed by the freezing temperature of the room they stood in, reached back to claw at Valentino's wrist. His grip loosened slightly as she dug her nails into the tender skin before he was hauling her up onto her toes, bending her backwards to look up at him and breathing more of that disgusting perfume into her face.
"Don't ya' know who you're talkin' to? Pipe the fuck down, before I-"
"S̷t̴o̶p̷!"
Valentino froze as the voice squealed through the speakers, Clover wincing as her ears pressed as tightly to her head as they could at the microphone feedback that followed.
"D̵r̷o̵p̶ ̵h̵er."
The response to the command was instant, Clover tumbling to the ground as Valentino's grip released. She prepared herself for impact, trying to turn herself enough to avoid landing full force on her knee caps, but the collision never came. Her shoulder was twisted painfully as a hand caught her arm and hauled her upright once again. Stumbling to regain her balance and elbowing Valentino in the side in the process, she allowed herself to slump back against whatever has wrapped its hands around her biceps as that damned sluggishness settled into her once again. A sharp clack of shoes lifted her head from its place dangling against her chest, the back of her skull bumping against something hollow behind her. Ignoring the blossoming ache that began to bleed through the returning haziness in her head, Clover turned her attention to the demon who was swiftly walking towards them.
Vox, or the demon she assumed was Vox, was no taller than Alastor. The technical Overlord was slim, boxy if she was going to make the pun, beneath his pinstriped suit. The most remarkable thing about him was the LCD television screen that sat on top of wide shoulders, and Clover had to resist leaning to look behind him to see if there was a length of cable connected to an outlet somewhere behind him. His face was simply a display, bright red eyes flickering above a sharp smile as they drifted between her and Valentino.
As Vox ducked down to wave neon tipped gloves in front of her face, she wondered how much pressure it would take to ruin the television's screen, and if breaking it would blind him. Clover attempted to follow them, trying to focus on the wires that were sewn into his palms but unable to in her current state. The image that was reflected back to her in the darkened screen was as pitiful as the trembling bunny that had appeared in the store window she'd gazed into her first night in hell; Hair a mess, eyes glassy and her pupils blown wide by the unfortunate high that had been forced upon her.
"Did you really have to do that? I'm trying to sell a bargain here." Vox turned to Valentino, his mouth twisting into a sharp scowl. Somewhere above her, a fan kicked on, ruffling her hair with frozen air.
"I'm just havin' a little fun, she's cute, the old timers like 'er. She's gotta' be tired of hangin' around those missionary only fellas. If things don't work out the way ya' want maybe we could do a little Playboy bu-"
"Her phone is already receiving signals, we don't have time for your games. Now cü̵̱t̵͔̽ ̵̮̆i̴̳̚t̵̜͛ ̶̡̓ỏ̶̼ű̴̦t̵̜͋." The distortion of Vox's voice squealed against the speakers she suspected dotted the room, the high pitched whine pricking at the tender portions of her brain.
Valentino stepped up to Vox, towering over the smaller cinema sinner with bared teeth.
"Rememba' how you found out about this, Voxxy. We're partners and I think I deserve some respect. How about you quit with the bit and-" He stopped abruptly as a high pitched moan came from inside his coat, Clover shrinking away from the purposefully pornographic ring-tone repeated. Valentino dug into his pocket, pulling out a shiny-pink cellphone and raising it to his ear. "I thought I told you that I was busy-"
The voice on the other end of the line was frantic but familiar, Clover lifting her ears to the sound. She was able to understand a word here and there as she began to sober up, and the two that stood out brought a smile to her face and let her begin to piece together what was going on; Something was going on at the club, something that sent what sounded like dynamite among the scattered sounds of feedback echoing through the device's speakers.
Valentino snarled, turning to look at her for a moment before returning to his phone call.
"Lols', what the fuck do you mean he's there? Who are you talkin-"
The line died with a squeal of static, and Valentino completely lost his cool.
"That fruity fuckin' cunt, I swear I shoulda' killed her a long time ago. When I get my hands on-" His tirade ended with the shattering of his cell phone against the floor a couple of yards away, Valentino turning to Vox and shoving a finger into the speaker-shaped holes in his chest. "You better have this breeding bitch signin' by the time I get back."
The door slammed behind him as he left, the sound echoing throughout the studio and giving Clover a chance to try and decipher the scale of this place. Over the squealing of tires, she could vaguely hear the sound of explosions in the distance, but she didn't have time for that. Vox was talking again, his voice coming through his speaker too clear, too crisp, for Clover's liking.
"Let me introduce myself! The name's Vox, but I'm sure Alastor has already told you all about me."
"He never mentions you."
Vox's display glitched, his smile turning downward for a moment before he returned to what she assumed he thought was an inviting expression.
"Anyway, I-"
"I thought I told you to leave me alone." Clover sighed, pushing back against her captor as her knees began to ache from being held in her half-fallen position.
"You didn't get to hear my offer."
"I'm not interested."
Twisting in the iron grip she was being held stationary in, Clover looked to see what exactly had captured her this time. Similar to Vox, the face of the person that held her was nothing but a TV screen, though this one's model was much older than the Overlord's crisp LCD. Where Vox's face was an animated collection of pixels dancing in technicolor, this demon's display was a broken mess of glass and static. A black bar stated "No Signal", but she watched as the television's antenna twitched to life with a snap of Vox's fingers. A spark shot between them, and suddenly she was being lifted to her toes and dragged across the concrete.
"Hold on-!"
"We're running low on air-time, doll. No time for commercial breaks!" Vox called out, already settling down into the one of the on set armchairs.
Clover was manhandled up the small steps, her shoes sliding against the shag carpet before she was unceremoniously dumped into the armchair across from him. Thundering applause filled the room again, the track looping once before turning off entirely to make way for a peppy jingle that instantly reminded her of her grandmother's late-night shopping channel addiction.
"Now, I'd like to show you exactly what I can do for you! You're not going to find a deal like this anywhere else ma'm, not anywhere else!" The hands on her shoulders tightened as Clover tried to get up again, Vox paying no mind to her struggling and continuing on with his pitch. "We've been watching you, dear, and I must say we're very impressed with what we've been seeing! A fresh sinner, unbothered by mortal vices, making a name for herself on personality and perseverance alone! Why, I would say that you're just the girl we've been looking for!"
The television beside them began to flicker rapidly, Clover barely able to make out the images that passed by before it landed on a reflection of her current predicament. She instantly searched for where it was being broadcast from, turning to watch as a 35MM rolled along its dolly track towards them. On screen, the image pushed in, focusing on Clover's wide eyes for a moment before panning over to her host.
"From what we've gathered about you, it seems you're a woman with a taste for the silver screen. With a little help from me-" Vox's display abruptly shifted, showing a blinking display of her name layered over what she assumed was a stock video of a crowd, his voice rising above the campy tune that played alongside it. "You could be the biggest name down here, you could be set for the after-life kid! You'd break hearts, you'd have the masses eating out of the palm of your hand! Tell me, have you ever thought about seeing yourself on the big screen?"
"Not really." Clover snorted, an ugly noise that had the camera swinging back in her direction.
She really hoped it wasn't actually broadcasting.
Vox's face appeared again with a short burst of static snow, his mouth set in a hard line as red eyes narrowed.
"You seem u̸n̴i̵m̷p̶r̸e̸s̴s̴e̶d̸."
"From what I've heard about you I expected a little more than what boils down to a daytime TV ad spot."
"Funny that you mention that."
With a responding echo, the lights along the perimeter of the room sparked, and Clover was finally able to see the full scale of her surroundings.
"Now, about that u̴p̸g̷r̸a̸d̸e̶-" The room buzzed to life with a sound that reminded her of the production logos she'd rush to turn down when she stayed up late watching movies as a kid. Vox rose to his feet and waved off the demon that was restraining her, and Clover was up before he could even get to her, backing down he steps away from him as he continued what was definitely beginning to feel like a sales pitch. "The R̶a̷d̵i̴o̷ ̸D̸e̶m̸o̷n̵ may be stuck in the past, but you my dear, know better."
Beyond the edges of the set piece Vox was currently pacing was a mess of wires, twisting together before branching up and out along the walls like creeping ivy. Beneath them she could see the blinking lights she'd glimpsed in the darkness, and when Clover moved closer she realized that the walls were lined with stacks of servers pressed together so tightly that she questioned whether there was a wall behind them at all. The freezing temperatures of the building made more sense now, that constant whirring noise of internal fans that had faded into background noise alongside the booming voice of Vox not enough to keep technology of this intensity properly cooled.
"As a m̵o̸d̶e̶r̴n̶ woman, I understand that your standards are higher than us old timers. Radio and television are a thing of the past, movies are a dime a dozen, but-" The abrupt sound of a hundred voices at once turned her head, Clover continuing to keep as much space as possible between her and Vox as he paced. Behind him, the colored bars that had painted his backdrop shifted, breaking apart into separate screens as they filled with lines of binary before switching to a collage of what she assumed was security footage. "C̸y̷b̶e̸r̵s̷p̸a̴c̸e̷ is the new frontier! Everyone, everywhere, at any moment of the day is uploading their innermost thoughts straight into our hands. We can know exactly what they're feeling with a simple click. Are they happy? Horny? Are they bursting with ̷r̵a̵g̶e̸? Who knows? We know!"
Looking more closely, Clover was able to recognize some of the areas on the many flickering screens as she passed by. The street she took from the hotel to work, the red-light area she'd fallen into upon her arrival in hell, the main shopping strip she'd been taken to by Charlie and Vaggie, the border of the Cannibal Colony and…
Cyrus's coffee shop.
She moved closer, pretending to circle around the camera in interest. Where there should have been a bustling cafe of people, she could see only darkened windows. Before she could see anymore Vox was linking arms with her and gesturing to the display with a wide sweeping of his gesture, and Clover became aware of the security cameras that dotted the ceiling and followed their every move as he pulled her back towards the center of his stage.
"Knowing is everything, but why am I telling you that? You hold the ̴p̷o̵w̵e̴r̶ ̵to see the one thing I cannot, you see them as they were before!" Vox pressed her arm against his side too tightly, Clover wincing as whatever bony mess of technology she assumed was beneath his suit jacket dug into her arm. "Your little camera, what model is it? Where did you get it?"
"It's not digital, I don't think you'd want it." Clover couldn't help but lace her words with sarcasm, even though she could feel the tingle of electricity pulling her hair to its end.
Definitely spending too much time with Alastor.
"I know! What makes this all the more interesting is that your d̷i̸g̵i̴t̴a̶l̶ photos are unaffected."
"That's private-"
"Nothing is private in the d̷i̸g̵i̴t̴a̶l̶ world, you know that. But! You could use this to our-" Vox's stumble allowed her to wiggle herself out of his grasp, Clover watching as a spark arched between his antenna and his display jumped between expressions before he righted himself once again. "Your advantage. Your power blurs the lines between analog and d̷i̸g̵i̴t̴a̶l̶, you're capable of accessing that information without using a database. Imagine what you could be, who you could c̴o̵n̷t̴r̷o̷l̵, with something like that. You can pick apart sinners, see who they were before. Who knows how many of these bigshots were nothing more than a paperboy before, how many petty crooks do you think play the part of a h̸a̶r̴d̸e̸n̵e̶d̷ ̷c̷r̵i̸m̸i̵n̸a̷l̶ just to survive?"
For a moment the fear that he knew about more than just the photograph ran cold beneath her skin, pushing her heartbeat from its heavy but steady rhythm into a frantic pace. How could he know? Had Angel let slip that she'd accidentally known his true name during that horrible night at Valentino's? She'd never been sure if Angel had said more than what he'd told her, not that she didn't trust her spidery friend, but he'd been through so much trauma that night that there was always the chance that he didn't remember. The fact that what Vox was saying made sense bothered her more than any of it, perhaps she could do all of that with time. She'd not had anything like that night with Angel since, nothing but phantom images of the warm brown eyes that haunted her. Even if she could do any more than take a few funny pictures, she doubted it was worth the trouble;
Besides, she'd enjoyed the chase of figuring things out for herself so far.
Ignoring the flicker of curiosity within her, Clover decided her best chance at getting out of this was to play coy. It had worked out well for her before.
"You think you can see all of that from a photograph?"
"A picture is worth a thousand words, doll. What would people pay to see themselves again, just one more time? You could do them all a favor! Old lovers reunited by seeing each other as they were, a gal being able to make a living off what was lost, people reliving the glory days, just think about it! "
"I think I've been incredibly clear in stating that I don't care about power," Clover was steadily putting distance between them, pretending to take in the studio while his words twisted knots into her stomach. The romantic in her lingered briefly on the thought of bringing people together, allowing people to mourn their lost selves; An image of the smiling man with warm skin and glasses that she kept hidden at her bedside sent heat across her skin, settling into the hole in her chest as she watched a shadow twist it's way around her ankles before disappearing beneath her feet. It was beautiful, but the heart was something she couldn't stand to see corrupted. "The answer is still no, Vox. I want nothing to do with this."
"Then give me the camera and this will all g̶o̸ ̵a̶w̶a̵y̶.."
"We both know that's a lie. That line might have worked if I hadn't had the misfortune of meeting your business boyfriend, but now…"
Vox's display glitched wildly, and Clover took her chance to check the room for more shifting shadows while also putting a few more feet between them. Every step she took, he took two; They were chess pieces chasing each other across the board. She'd made it to the far side of the set, barely able to peer behind the metaphorical curtain before Vox's sparking stopped and he turned to her with a wry smile.
"Someone has been attempting to reach since you arrived. Messages, phone calls, voice messages-"
"You realize that jamming the signal is just going to make people more worried, right?" She was still edging her way towards what she assumed constituted backstage in this empty studio setup, careful not to trip on the messy expanse of wire that poured out from the LCD backdrop. Vox mirrored her movement, ignoring her interruption as his smile grew wider.
"Attempted contact from all of your friends. Well, all of them, e̵x̵c̶e̵p̴t̴ ̵o̵n̵e̵."
"I'm sure he has a landline."
A sudden storm of sparks startled her, Clover jumping back as they rained down over her head through a cloud of smoke. Though she moved quicker than she thought was possible, she was distracted enough to not notice the circles of wires that had formed behind her until she'd stepped into them.
"It must be hard, being a woman with so many modern talents. The R̸a̵d̷i̶o̶ is a stubborn man, he refuses to keep up with the times, refuses to form alliances," She was caught with a snap of his fingers, the snare he'd prepared for her biting through her socks to leave indents into her skin.
"Except with you, why?"
Anything Clover could say felt like walking into another trap. This was Alastor's self-proclaimed rival, someone he viewed as a thorn in his side as far as she could tell. Her silence only spurred Vox on, the demon's display flickering with each set of sparks he left in his wake. She pulled as far away as she could, quickly looking down to try and find where the wire around her ankle connected so she could try and rip it from the source, but it was too late. Vox was leaning over her as she shrunk away from him, the electricity rippling between his antenna extending through his fingertips as he grabbed her wrist.
"What could you possibly be capable of that he wants enough to keep you around?"
Pink eyes turned purple in the blue glow of his display, her frightened expression reflected back to her as the screen went dark. It lit up with another image of herself, the past layered over the present, and she might have appreciated the shot's composition if its intimacy hadn't made her stomach churn.
Clover saw herself, flushed despite the terrified expression on her face as she stared down just below the webcam's position. Beside her was Alastor, his gaze locked into the camera and his smile tight. As disturbing as watching the remnants of an invasion of privacy was, the new angle gifted her with a deeper understanding of what exactly Vox had seen through her laptop's lens. While Clover had been focused on waiting out the distortion, she hadn't noticed the slow stretch of his shadow up the wall behind them or how the phantom antlers had twisted to brush the ceiling. The scene played until the recorded Clover let out a sharp breath, reaching out to close the webcam's privacy cover and fading it to black.
She hadn't noticed the lack of audio until it returned again with the shifting of bed springs and a mumbling of irritated transatlantic.
"Coward."
"So, that's what this is about, you're using me to get to Alastor?" Clover ignored the way her heart tossed and turned at his voice, ignoring how much she missed it and forcing her face to remain unmoving as Vox's returned to its rightful place.
"I believe we can come to an understanding."
Vox pulled her upright, attempting to wrap an arm around her shoulder but missing as Clover ducked beneath it.
"How many times do I have to say this? I don't want anything from you, there is nothing you can give me that my friends don't already provide in excess. The answer is no, you cannot change that now matter how many bells and whistles you pull out. I know I am nothing but a pawn to you, but I'm refusing to play." Clover slammed a foot down on where the wire that bound her connected to the wall of servers. She watched as the cord's shadow slithered itself out from beneath the fallen HDMI, but couldn't follow its serpentine path towards them as Vox yanked her back to attention.
"You really are a stubborn broad, no wonder the Radio entertains your presence. What is he offering you? I know you haven't signed a contract, he's not come for you yet, so it can't be that good. I'll double, no, triple! Whatever he's put on the table."
Clover was laughing again, staring up at this demon- this man, as he slowly began to lose the measured manipulation he'd maintained so far. She was being too brave, emboldened by the small glimpses of satanic salvation that could very well be just the leftovers of her high, but she didn't care. Whether help was coming or not, she was getting sick of Vox's nagging and his assumptions about Alastor's intentions had brought her steadily simmering rage to a boil.
"You think that Alastor is my friend just because he wants the camera?"
"The R̷a̷d̶i̸o̶ ̴D̵e̸m̷o̶n̷ doesn't attach himself to anyone, not without a p̶r̶i̷c̸e̷."
"You don't know him that well, and I don't know you at all."
"And you don't understand what you're doing! This is the big leagues, kid, and you need to learn that when you have something someone w̶a̴n̸t̴s̶, it's smarter to sell it to them before they t̴a̸k̶e̵ ̶i̷t̸ ̷f̵o̴r̸ ̸t̴h̵e̶m̴s̴e̴l̴v̴e̵s̸. Let me-" He'd been getting too close, leaning down into her personal space with that sleazy smile while taking low blows at her intelligence. Frankly, she'd had enough of it. The display warped beneath her palms, Clover pushing back on the screen and taking advantage of Vox's sputtering to get herself out from under him. A tone akin to an emergency broadcast announcement broke through his speakers, silencing him for a moment before the television's voice layered over the ringing. "Let me help you! You don't want to see what happens if you d̶o̷n̴'̴t̶."
He was swiftly backing her up into the rear of his set piece with his vintage mimic now at his heels, the television demon's shattered screen reflecting the sparks that rained down from the dangling mess of wires behind her with Vox's every move. Clover weighed her options. Behind the demon that was growing angrier with every passing moment was the unknown, vague shapes of discarded set pieces and broken film equipment looming in the darkness, but it was a better bet than attempting to hop-scotch her way through the minefield of wires on either side. Each flash of light above her sent a flutter of electricity over her skin, her own shadow seeming to grow taller with every new appearance that stretched outward.
She just needed more time, she needed to keep him busy.
"I'll take my chances."
A swift change in direction sent cables snapping at her heels, but she was ready for them now. She was around the side of his technicolor backdrop before he could react, climbing up the crisscrossed wooden slats that raised just in time to avoid the twitching claws of Vox's counterfeit shadow.
"What do you want? M̴o̶n̴e̸y̸?̵ L̵̰̕o̴̠͂v̶͈̒e̶̝͒?̷̢̎ S̸͉̙̎é̷̻̂x̷̥͎̆͆?̶̽̕͜ " Her path forward illuminated with the cold blue of a kill screen as the sound of a thousand cables ripping themselves from their ports joined the persistent ringing of the television broadcast, turning Clover on her heel to stare up at the amplified version of Vox snarling down at her from a hundred screens. "If it isn't power then just name a price, but you're not leaving here until you stop haggling and take the damn dea-"
Vox's limelight was snuffed out with a soft hiss of static, and then he came from the depth of the shadows that followed,
"I believe the lady said no, Vox."