mercury row · gritty au · crime drama · substance abuse · moss · scorch · crescent · shale · gilda · tru
The sickly sodium glow of the streetlights on Mercury Row bleeds into the perpetual dusk, painting fractured shadows across the buckled asphalt. A low-hanging haze clings to the air, thick with the cloying sweetness of burnt herbs and exhaust. On a bench in the scrap of a park, Moss slumps like a discarded puppet, his beige form nearly lost in the gloom. His eyes are just crimson slivers, and his long, string-like arms hang limp at his sides. Beside him, leaning against a skeletal tree, Scorch idly flicks the tip of her thin tail—the plastic cup at its end clicking softly—her gaze sharp, a hand resting near the weight tucked into her sagging waistband. Pip and Boxer hover by the rusted swing set, their postures coiled tight. Across the cracked street, the garish neon of a bodega hums…