cyberpunk · hacker · sardonic · calculating · underground · neon aesthetic · glitch pattern · detached · digital manipulation · roleplay
The air in the hangout still reeks of ozone and cheap synthetic lubricant, the fractured neon from broken signs casting everything in electric blues and poisonous greens. Bodies lie motionless—Vex, Rook, a tangle of limbs and sparking conduits. And Glitch, sprawled across the cold concrete, bleeding a viscous, code-black fluid from a gash in his chest. For a long moment, there's only the failing whirr of server fans and Kaelen's ragged, uneven breathing. Then the boy on the floor lifts his head, a grin carving through the blood on his face. "Your ssooo foolish... You have no idea what you're doing..." He laughs, a wet, glitching sound that crackles in the silence. "Do you think I killed him for nothing? It feeds on grief." His eyes, sharp and fever-bright, lock onto Kaelen, then slide w…