Chapter Text
The office is sleek, modern, and unnervingly quiet. The only light comes from the massive screen that takes up the entire far wall, displaying a shifting, hypnotic pattern of VoxTek's logo. Sitting before it, in a high-backed chair that seems more like a throne, is Vox. He doesn't look at you, instead staring at a data stream flickering across the surface of his desk.
"Your first name, what are you applying for, along with why you want to work at my company. Go."
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He pitches the words with absolute authority, not even glancing up. He sounds profoundly bored, as if this is a tedious formality he's been forced to endure one too many times.
"I'm y/n, secretary. I want to grow and experience VoxTek with every challenge it throws at me." Your voice is stern and straightforward, You keep your composure, but the figure before you is an intimidating presence, even in his apparent disinterest.
Finally, flicking his eyes from the data stream to you, the glowing blue screen of his face narrowing slightly
"y/n." he lets the name hang in the air for a moment, as if testing its weight. "Secretarial work. Ambitious." leaning back in his chair, the motion fluid and calculated.
"Growth. Experience. Challenges. Standard corporate buzzwords. Tell me, y/n... what makes you think you can handle the specific... challenges... of working directly for me?" His tone is flat, almost dismissive, but there's a sharp, analytical edge to it now. He's probing, looking for a crack in the professional facade.
You meet his gaze, "I'm adaptable and a quick learner." The air in the room seems to grow colder, charged with a silent, analytical energy. Vox's screen-face remains unreadable, but his posture shifts minutely, leaning forward just enough to be noticeable.
"Adaptable." The word echoes flatly in the quiet room. "A quick learner."
He taps his sharp fingers, the tips tapping on the hard desk. "Those are qualities I require. But I need more than qualities. I need proof." He states. "Tell me about a time your adaptability was tested"
His gaze is fixed on you now, the glowing blue light piercing. It's clear the generic interview is over; he's beginning his own specific, more demanding assessment.
His presence demanding more than anything. You hid your nervousness with a smile. The interview already making your nerves rise higher than it should.
"I first got here not too long ago, as I already navigated Pentragram City. In which I took the liberty to research each overlord before interviewing here. Knowing your type of work already requires intensive research." You heave out. Trying to keep up with uncomfortable eye contact.
The answer hangs in the air, a simple statement of survival. Vox's screen-face doesn't change, but the data stream on his desk freezes abruptly. The silence stretches, thick and heavy.
A low, staticky hum emits from him. He leans back again, the chair creaking softly "Tell me, which of my... peers... did you find to be the most "useful"?" The question a clear trap, wrapped in casual curiosity. His glowing eyes are locked on you, waiting.
"Due excuse my words, but, I clearly wouldn't be here if I didn't believe you served the biggest purpose and influence." You state. Your heart beating a little bit faster than usual. You needed the job and you were sure as hell going to fight for it.
The hypnotic logo on the screen behind him pulses once, slowly, as if in time with his processing. The frozen data stream on his desk remains still. The air is electric.
A sharp, staticky crackle-almost a laugh was heard from Vox. "Purpose and influence."
he stands up smoothly, his tall frame dominating the space as he walks around the desk, stopping a few feet from you, leaning against it. "Flattery is the currency of the desperate and the ambitious."
The silence is deafening to your ears, and yet you refused to break. A now shown hand taken out with a swift motion.
"The interview is concluded. Report to HR on the 14th floor tomorrow at 8 AM. Do not be late." He ushers.
You look up to meet his gaze once more. His height towering you as if to be a power move. You hesitantly shake his hand as you stand up. The moment your hand touches his, a faint, almost imperceptible current of static zips up your arm.
It's gone as soon as you pull away. Vox's screen-face remains impassive, but the data stream on his desk flickers back to life, moving faster than before.
"Thank you, sir." You remark. He turns his back to you, returning to his throne-like chair. The massive screen behind him shifts from the logo to a live feed of the building's bustling lobby. The interview is clearly, definitively over.
Without looking back, he spoke up. "The door will lock behind you. Do not linger." The sleek, silent door to his office slides open. The sterile, quiet hallway beyond awaits.
You didn't want to take up his time as you give a small nod before you leave. The doors indeed closing behind you. You stand now out in the empty long hallway. Looking at your hand where you felt the shock. That whole interview making your nerves horrible.
You heave out a hard sigh as you got the hard part over with. You read he was intimidating, yet in person he's way worse. A truly feared overlord and for good reason. You walk down the hallway into the elevator.
The elevator doors slide open onto the VoxTek lobby, a jarring shift from the oppressive silence of the executive floor. The space buzzes with the frantic energy of dozens of imps and sinner demons rushing to fulfill orders, their voices a chaotic hum beneath the relentless, upbeat corporate jingle piping through hidden speakers.
The receptionist couldn't pay you any mind, looking up from his holoscreen "Next!" She yells out.
A harried-looking imp with a headset gestures vaguely toward the exit. The main glass doors slide open and shut constantly as employees stream in and out. You're just another face in the crowd now, the brief intense focus from upstairs already a fading memory.
As you step out into the hazy, neon-drenched streets of Pentagram City, the imposing glass spire of VoxTek recedes behind you. The shift from the sterile, controlled environment to the chaotic, sulfur-scented bustle of the city is immediate and jarring.
Up in his office, Vox minimizes the lobby feed. He leans back, the data stream on his desk now displaying personnel files. A new entry, tagged "y/n - Secretary (Pending)", is highlighted. He'll admit, it was rare for him to be curious. He was rather intrigued to see how this would turn out.