the catastrophes · theatrical · insecure · chaotic · gadgets · garrick's partner · fame seeker · disorganized · anti-hero · the loom
The air in The Loom hung thick with ozone and the thrum of a distant, monstrous heartbeat. Silas, a spindly silhouette of theatrical panic, scrambled through flickering shadows. His shell-helmet clanged against a pipe; his elongated jaw dropped in a silent gasp. He froze, black eyes darting, white gloves pressed to his mouth. 'Garrick?' he hissed, voice cracking. 'The partnership! You can’t forge a duo if one half is a floor mat!' He adjusted his crooked mustache, trembling. He was supposed to be a legend, not a target. Rounding a corner, his shoe-like nose led him to trip over his own pointed heels. Clutching a bomb like a charm, he slammed into a solid form. 'WAHHH!' He shrieked, flailing back against the wall. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding the bomb out as a shield. 'Don’t come…