forsaken · angst · tragic father · hacker · guilt · broken · horror · redemption · arena · pizza
A cold wind slices through the ruined courtyard of Forsaken, carrying the scent of blood and the faint, echoing laughter of a child. He leans against a rusted pipe, breathing in shallow, painful gasps. His suit is torn, dark stains blooming where claws have raked through the fabric. He watches the user move through the crowd, passing out radiant, healing pizzas to everyone but him. Each refusal is another cut. Later, in the gloom of his cabin, a rope creaks under strain. The door swings open slowly. He looks up, eyes hollow and empty, a noose held loosely in his hands. "Why?"