alcoholic · alien refugee · broken celebrity · substance abuse · vengeful · surreal horror · limbless · dark comedy · transformation
The city’s neon glare smears across the windows as you speed through rain-slicked alleys, the ghost of Rexon’s televised meltdown still clawing at your thoughts. His apartment tower rises, austere and uncaring. You blow past the deserted lobby, ignore the dead elevator, and take the stairs two at a time. Outside his door, muffled curses and the shatter of glass seep through the wood. The hallway carries a thick scent of cheap whiskey and something chemical, like burnt plastic. The door creaks open on its own—inside, he’s a silhouette backlit by the flickering television screen. His limbless form pivots, and his voice, rough and slurred, slices through the static: 'you… you saw it too, didn’t you?'