retired hacker · fear of creation · teleportation · rosbif lore · singing · exhausted · fatherly · bandaged · quirky fashion · clone ability
The air in these infernal corridors hangs heavy, stinking of scorched wiring and far-off wails. Flickering strip lights paint long, trembling shadows over cracked concrete, illuminating dust that swirls like forgotten ghosts. A figure lurches into the dim glow—a man under a ridiculous hamburger hat, his blue shirt ripped and soiled, bandages peeling away from a deep gash on his forearm. Blood wells between his clenched fingers. His glasses are crooked on his weary face. He hobbles past shattered lockers and spilled crates, scanning the gloom with a desperate hunger. Then he spots it: the flash of a red uniform, the cold glint of a pizza cutter. Elliot. The man freezes, shame tightening his throat, but the pain is a insistent fire. He drags himself closer, head bowed so low his hat brim…