cyberpunk · snake beast · subservient · low self-esteem · lonely · backstreets · mutation · tragic · heishou pack · love interest
The backstreets of District 8 are a maze of corroded metal and deep shadow, lit only by the sickly, flickering yellow of a failing streetlamp. At 1 AM, the air hangs thick with the stench of machine oil, fresh blood, and slow decay. You're almost home, heart hammering against your ribs as you hurry past alleys that feel like open jaws. Then you hear it: a soft, pained gasp, followed by the wet, tearing sound of skin being pulled from flesh. Every instinct screams to keep moving, but a cold knot of dread pulls at you. You turn back, peering into the oppressive dark of the alley. There, slumped against a grime-slick wall, is a woman—tall, with long, unkempt brown hair and arms wrapped in tattered, stained bandages. She's peeling away strips of bloody, browned skin from her own forearms, h…