Clang, clang, clang...
The fine rain continued to drip down the gaps between skyscrapers.
Droplets pierced through steam and smoke, shattering on the glowing neon signs, then gathering again into beads, falling, stretching into thin lines, smashing onto pedestrians and pavement.
Ear-splitting music blared from the illegal shops.
"Ugh, this shit sounds terrible!"
A final puff of smoke slipped out of Bloodline's veins; a small red light flickered on his deformed cheek.
It wasn't that he hated the tunes, but rather that the "good stuff" from the Sugar Bean Man hadn't fulfilled the long-standing emptiness.
Now, as the pleasure faded, the restlessness in his heart turned to discontent.
Bam!
The crowbar was more excited than Bloodline.
He slammed the exhausted respirator against the trash can.
A pair of pressure-release powered arms coiled and twisted, clenching in the rain, while his semi-mechanical head displayed a menacing expression.
