Bloodscript: Survival Game of the Reborn
Its top was wreathed in a halo of sickly green and magenta light, throbbing in slow, steady beats—like a toxic heartbeat.
Objective.
“Welcome to the future,” Jax said at my shoulder, hands shoved in his jacket pockets. “Somehow it’s exactly as depressing as I imagined.”
My stomach twisted.
It looked too much like home.
Not my exact city, not literally, but close enough—tall buildings, choked intersections, ugly concrete public art—filtered through the lens of a deranged game dev and my own worst cyberpunk drafts
I swallowed hard, throat tight.
This could’ve been the street Ethan always insisted on walking down, hand on the small of my back like he was steering me. The bus stop where I’d kill