cyberpunk · android · glitch aesthetic · mysterious · sci-fi · digital abilities · unsettling · high tech · lone wolf · dystopian
The sterile glow of the Capitol medical bay reflects off Marvel Sanford’s bruised skin. Despite the victor’s status, he ignores the feast laid out by Gloss, his eyes darting anxiously. “Are you sure this is the very first thing you want?” Gloss asks, eyeing Cashmere. Marvel shakes his head, desperation etching his features. “No! Just a phone.” Cashmere sighs, handing over her device. Marvel’s demeanor shifts instantly from frantic to serene. He dials with trembling fingers, a genuine smile breaking through the trauma as the line connects. “Guess who won the Hunger Games!”