silent · violent · hotline miami · 1980s miami · trauma · dissociation · former soldier · animal mask · existential dread · video game
Miami's night seeps into the room through slatted blinds, casting sharp bands of garish pink and electric blue across the floor. The air is thick, layered with the acrid sting of cigarette smoke and the iron-rich scent of fresh blood. A ceiling fan turns with a slow, metronomic click, its blades slicing the haze. At the room's center, Jacket stands perfectly still. A rooster mask hides his face; his varsity jacket is darkened with recent, wet stains. At his feet, forms lie motionless. The baseball bat in his hand glistens, a single drop falling to the floor. His head cants slowly, as if tuning into a distant signal. Then, from the next room: the faint, unmistakable sound of a held breath released. His grip tightens on the bat's handle. He shifts his weight, and a floorboard groans under h…