“Oh my! I fear we've been foxed!” The lady hiding her bemused lips said.
Her companion, the tall man in cowboy boots, glanced towards the locked door.
“I suppose now, we must listen to what he has to say.”

The stage was dark, along with the man standing on it. His only notable thing was his flamboyantly pink tie. Lifting his hands, he began. In one fluid motion he lifted a small silver box off the table in front of him. Afterwards, people would whisper they'd seen him grin, but that was all hearsay.

“My fellow citizens of the Republic I'm here to regale you with a tale of revolution. To offer you a solution, a way to avoid the blood-letting and ablution.” He continued on after that but his words were lost in the eerie bass beats emanating from the silver box. A few more savvy member of his captive audience realized he was speaking through a Vox.

Instead of his words, they felt his spoken emotions. Darting in and out of shadows with his plots of invasion and evasion. Wincing at the blood spatters and crying as friends and foe alike burned in the collateral damage. But behind it all, that omnipresent and evocative throb, spoke of excitement. A very real and sickly sweet sense of enticement.

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A fantastic piece from  mayonnaise-face , its basis on the story above..perhaps now that I've got art for it...I really should do more work on it huh?