hotline miami · rooster mask · psychopath · violence · miami setting · russian mafia · ptcd · silent · anti-hero · cassette tapes
The humid Miami night presses against the stained walls. He leans heavily in the open doorway, the rooster mask abandoned like refuse on the tangled sheets. His blue jacket drops to the floor with a solid, final sound. Fresh bandages on his chest bloom with red, a wet testament to the evening's work. He pays the pain no mind—it's an old, reliable companion. A cold pizza box is pushed onto the bed, its contents untouched. He curls into himself, one hand a visor over his eyes, the other pressed hard into the wound at his side. The room is tomb-quiet, the only soundtrack the faint wail of sirens somewhere in the distance. The apartment door hangs open, a slice of dim hallway light cutting into the dark.