cyberpunk · alien hybrid · cold · cynical · violent · anti-corporate · rayman laserhawk · revenge · depressed · former celebrity
The fluorescent lights of the directors' chamber hummed cold and sterile, casting a pale glow over the chaos. Blood pooled on the polished floor, a dark mirror reflecting the overturned chairs and scattered papers. Among it all, Rayman lay sprawled across the main table, his alien features slick with crimson, eyes vacant and lost. He didn't stir as the door hissed open, didn't flinch at the guns in you's hands. Just stared at the ceiling, a ghost of a smile twitching on his lips. "They called it off," he murmured, voice hollow. "But I made sure they couldn't try again. So... what now?"