#soulkiller.intro

[h4ngedman]

BEWARE CITIZENS: several new sightings were received in recent reports of a certain suspicious individual roaming the shadows of neo california, who could otherwise be identified as JULIAN DE SANTIS ― a highly trained operative in their early thirties. their associations & exact location are unknown, however the reports also describe a series of violent acts, arson, kidnapping, blackmail and multiple other offences of various degrees. please refrain from further engagement in case of close contact.       VIEWER READER DISCRETION IS HIGHLY ADVISED.

Ⅰ ― STATISTICS. Ⅱ ― BIOGRAPHY. Ⅲ ― STATEMENTS.   Ⅵ ― CONNECTIONS. Ⅴ ― FULL RECORD.

[gh0stbled]

𝐈𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝… 【 yuyu kitamura //. non-binary //. she, they 】 Welcome, MAXIMONA "MAXIE" SOLSTICE COSMO ZERO MATSUMOTO THE V. You have successfully been loaded into The Hub. According to our records, you are TWENTY-FOUR and have held citizenship for THIRTEEN YEARS in the barrier city, Neo California. Your key attributes have been identified as INNOCENT and MISCHEVIOUS. Please confirm your CHAOTIC GOOD to proceed. Our data indicates that you are currently employed with NANO ZILLAS as a NET RUNNER ( CODE NAME: CipherCat ) //. POKER DEALER at INFERNO CASINO. For your safety and security, it is crucial that all background information is accurate. Further analysis of our archives highlights your alignment with at least a screen flooding with neon Neko cats, their pixelated paws playfully swiping through your files as they multiply in vibrant colors, dancing in chaotic loops until, with a sudden glitch, they freeze. The screen flickers, then goes black—leaving only the haunting trace of their mischief behind; Endlessly humming twisted lullabies, their strange tunes drift like whispers—familiar, yet unknown, leaving listeners lost in a melody only they can follow and //. or CHICKEN BONE BY YOKO KANNO. ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ Verification 100% complete. Please adhere to all local regulations and laws during your stay. We trust that your time here will be both fulfilling and safe. 

CHAPTER I: I like, you like, he likes, she likes chicken bone.

You are a young woman, always outcast for being "different." From the earliest days, your mind seemed to hum with the efficiency of a machine. Numbers, codes, complexities that baffled others unraveled before you in mere seconds. The adults marveled, yet the other children? They looked at you as though you were an anomaly, something strange and untouchable. So, you grew up alone—isolated by brilliance, abandoned in your own silent world. But there was one person who never saw you as strange: your father. He loved every quirk, every spark in your mind. He taught you to be yourself, to sing your joy into the wind, to smile in the face of a broken world. “Focus on what makes you happy,” he’d say, “what matters to you.” His words were your anchor, his love your compass. And then, one day, he was gone. Without warning, just a note saying he’d come back for you someday. That day never came. Your heart broke, the world turned cold, and you were left behind—discovered by a neighbor after surviving on your own for over a month. Placed into the system, you became a shadow in a world that had forgotten you. But even then, your spirit didn’t dim. You were bubbly, bright, full of life despite the grief pulling at your edges. You clung to the gift your father left you—your little worn cat backpack—and moved through the doors they sent you through, one foster home after another. You were cute, full of questions, always smiling—too much, it seemed. Too noisy, too inquisitive, too happy. You didn’t understand why they couldn’t love you for who you were. But the families grew weary, sending you back, again and again. Others kept you, not for love but for the money you brought them, working you to the bone with barely enough food to survive. Sometimes, you’d act out intentionally, desperate to escape, hoping they'd send you back to the system instead of keeping you in their cold, empty homes. And in the gaps between the chaos, you found solace in something no one could take from you—technology. Your brain, always a marvel, craved understanding. You devoured everything you could find about electronics, coding, the secrets hidden in the web’s depths. You became a master at it, slipping into the digital world like it was your true home. Hacking became your escape, your obsession, and eventually, your power. The outdated computers in group homes couldn’t contain you—you stayed on them for days, your fingers flying across the keys, your mind lighting up with every breakthrough. You found community in the darkest corners of the web. For the first time, you weren’t alone. There were others like you—people who understood the thrill of unraveling secrets, of exposing the monsters lurking in the shadows, of protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves. In this digital realm, you finally had a voice, and you used it to amplify others. It didn’t matter what traumas you carried, what the world had done to you. You had found your purpose. And no one could take that away.

ACT II. Dreamin', dreamin' dreamin' of this chicken bone. Crazy, crazy, crazy 'bout a chicken bone.

With time, your journey as a netrunner became more than just a whispered rumor in dark corners; it transformed into a symphony of risks and revelations. What began as a natural gift—a knack for slicing through the complexities of code and algorithms—soon evolved into a way of life. You weren’t just playing in the digital shadows anymore; you were navigating the veins of the Net itself, slipping through its hidden currents, gaining deeper insight into a world that most couldn’t even comprehend. You sought the places no one else would go, the abandoned nodes, the forgotten servers buried beneath layers of old data. You’d disappear for hours, sometimes days, searching for that perfect entry point, where you could jack in and steal your way through the Net like a ghost, unseen and untouchable. The gigs you took on were reckless, the kind that seasoned runners wouldn’t dare approach. But you? You thrived on the risk, on the pulse of danger that came with every job. It wasn’t about the money or the reputation; it was about testing your limits, pushing yourself further, until the Net felt like an extension of your own mind. And even though some jobs went south, every failure was a lesson, sharpening your skills, honing your instincts. Then came 2138, the year that would change everything. You managed the impossible: hacking into the impenetrable fortress of Ichibangase-Eisher in Japan. It wasn’t just any facility—it was the heart of their most closely guarded secrets. Inside those encrypted walls, you uncovered files detailing the creation of SOLDIER, a process so brutal, so twisted, it sent chills down your spine. These weren’t just experiments; they were atrocities, turning human lives into weapons, stripping away their humanity piece by piece. And you, Maxie, had those secrets at your fingertips. For a moment, the world felt like it was in your grasp. But with power comes peril. At nineteen, your netrunner alias had become known in places you’d rather remain invisible. The Neo Los Angeles Government was watching you now. When you breached the Gestalt Bureau datafort using their own Neo Los Angeles base as a proxy, it was a declaration, a signal flare that drew their gaze directly to you. The chase that followed was relentless—government netrunners hunting you through the endless maze of the Net, their signals closing in on you like wolves on a trail. It was a race against time, your mind moving faster than your fingers, breaking through firewalls, evading traces. But just as they were about to flatline you, you severed the connection, slipping away with barely a breath to spare. They mapped your signal, but you remained one step ahead—alive, but forever marked. That narrow escape wasn’t the end, though—it was the beginning. Your reckless audacity caught the eye of the Nano-Zillas, a group whispered about with equal parts fear and reverence in the underground. They were the elite, the best of the best, and they had been watching you. It wasn’t long before they made contact, offering you something you hadn’t had in a long time—a place where you truly belonged. For the first time, you weren’t just a solitary figure hiding behind a screen. You were part of something larger. Among the Nano-Zillas, you found not only safety but camaraderie, a crew that shared your passion for unraveling the darkest secrets of the Net and megacorporations, a family who accepted you for the brilliant, defiant hacker you had become. Here, you weren’t just surviving. You were thriving. You’d carved out a home, not just in the digital landscape but in the real world, amongst the few who understood you. The journey wasn’t over—there would always be more secrets to uncover, more dangers to face—but for the first time, you knew you wouldn’t be facing them alone. The Netrunner you had become was no longer just a shadow in the dark; you were a force, a legend in the making, and the world was starting to take notice.

CHAPTER III. Happy, happy, happy with a chicken bone. From the bottom of my heart the chicken bone.

With the Nano-Zillas at your side, you were given everything you needed to sharpen your edge and refine your craft. The tools at your disposal weren’t just digital anymore—they became part of you. Your body, once flesh and bone, was enhanced with stolen tech, liberated from the very corporations you swore to dismantle. The modifications were gifts from your comrades, sourced from Gestalt Bureau’s prized Tier 6 technology, the kind reserved for their most elite netrunners. Now, you were no longer just a hacker, no longer tethered to external systems. A sleek port inserted into the back of your head turned you into a walking, breathing netrunning station, capable of diving into the Net whenever and wherever you needed. Being a Nano-Zilla meant more than just hacking for the thrill—it was about a mission, a purpose that burned brighter than any code you ever cracked. You weren’t just taking down targets for sport; you were dismantling systems built on greed, oppression, and cruelty. Those who profited from the pain of others, who manipulated lives for their gain—they were the ones in your crosshairs. And though your methods were as unconventional as the mind that crafted them, you quickly proved yourself among your peers. You didn’t think like everyone else—your approach was a riddle, a puzzle few could follow, but the results spoke for themselves. Under their guidance, you grew, and with time, responsibility found its way into your hands. Respect followed soon after, as the crew saw not just a hacker in you, but a leader in the making. Yet, despite the missions, despite the battles you fought in the digital and physical realms, there was always a deeper mission humming in the back of your mind—a search that had begun long before you’d ever heard the word “netrunner.” Finding your father, the man who vanished from your life with nothing but a note and a promise he never kept. For nearly four years, you hunted through the farthest reaches of the Net, tracing whispers, leads, and rumors that always dissolved before you could grasp them. No matter how many dead ends you reached, you never gave up. You couldn’t. The search for him was woven into your soul as deeply as the Net itself. Through it all, you remained a ray of sunshine, an anomaly of joy in a world too often dulled by shadows. You created your own tunes, whimsical melodies that danced in your head while your fingers danced across the keys. You spoke in riddles that no one else seemed to understand, and you loved that. A smile was your constant companion, even when the world tried to dim your light. You saw through things others couldn’t, always finding the cracks where the truth lay hidden. You are more than CipherCat, more than just a name whispered through the digital corridors of the Net. You are Maximona Solstice Cosmo Zero Matumoto the V, a being made of oddities and contradictions, and you have decided to remain exactly as you are. In a world that tried to mold you into something else, you stayed true to yourself—a riddle wrapped in code, a spark that refused to fade, a soul too bright to be contained. And in that truth, you found your power. You didn’t just accept the peculiarities that made you—you embraced them, wore them proudly, knowing that they were the very things that set you free. Even now, with all you've been through, you remain true to the bright child your father loved. Despite the betrayals and harshness of life, you’ve never let them steal your light. You've always been a survivor. Not just of the physical world, but of the digital one—where you’ve carved out a place for yourself, not just as a hacker, but as someone who matters.

I'd love to go just like a chicken bone, I'm really moved by the chicken bone, The more you eat, the more you'll be the chicken bone. I left my head over the chicken bone.

[d1gitallyfvckd]

𝐈𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝… Welcome, CONNIE ZHANG. You have successfully been loaded into THE HUB. According to our records, you are THIRTY-TWO and have held citizenship for THIRTY-TWO YEARS in the barrier city, Neo California. Your key attributes have been identified as COMPASSIONATE and RECKLESS. Please confirm your CHAOTICALLY GOOD morality to proceed. Our data indicates that you are currently employed with STRIPPER AT HEAVEN'S NIGHT/GO-GO DANCER @ ELYSIUM. For your safety and security, it is crucial that all background information is accurate. Further analysis of our archives highlights your alignment with at least PARANOIA, CYBERDRUNK, GOLDEN RETRIEVERS and or CYBER STOCKHOLM SYNDROME BY RINA . ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ Verification 100% complete. Please adhere to all local regulations and laws during your stay. We trust that your time here will be both fulfilling and safe. 

…LOADING file --- BEWARE resident under extreme stress. Utilize caution when approaching.

I’m restless. Things are calling me away. My hair is being pulled by the stars again.

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STATS:

Identification: Connie “Constance” Zhang

Age: Thirty-Two

Sexuality: Queer

Pronouns: She/Her

Gender: Cis-Female

 ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ X CORRUPTED MENTAL FILE

…LOADING FILE: EARLY_MEMORIES

File empty.  Images of poverty and hunger flash across the screen. A mother entering a dark room with a strange man in exchange for four hunger curbing cubes. A father covering his daughters eyes.   ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ X INTERRUPTION [Welcome to LuLus Dating Sim! Will you date the stereotypical mafia boss? Or the kind, but poor baker? Enter ten more credits for diamonds to access special endings.] File recovered. A young girl eats from the trash. Three sleep in a single closet tenement, with a brain trip. Men hover over the women like vultures, waiting for a moment to swoop in and eat their prey. The girl knows she must provide. 

…LOADING FILE: CURRENT STATE

FILE WARNING RESIDENT UNDER EXTREME STRESS, PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION IN FILES> EXIT SCAN. SUBJECT UNABLE TO TELL REALITY FROM FICTION. SCANNING MAY LEAD TO FURTHER DISTRESS AND ERRATIC BEHAVIOR. File recovered.   Images flash of the young girl now woman, still residing in the same tenement. The space has grown to two resting pods except one. The woman leaves at night to enter and work various clubs. Her body the prize, her mind the victim.  FIFTEEN THOUSAND HOURS OF BRAIN TRIPS LOGGED. LOGGED GAMES: LULUS DATING SIM, ANNIE’S DATING SIM, BAKERS LOVER DATING SIM, MY VAMPIRE GIRLFRIEND,  RACE FOR THE THRONE: LOVERS PACK, DIGITAL DOG SIM, KING’S DINING HALL SIM, DIGITAL DOG FRIEND 1, DIGITAL DOG FRIEND 2, DIGITAL DOG FRIEND 3 - THE DOGGIEST [ WARNING POP-UP, exceeding FIVE THOUSAND brain trip hours can have significant long-term consequences]   ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ X CORRUPTED MENTAL FILE ! ABORT SCAN! RESIDENT AWARE!

NO,nonono.

You’re not real, I am not listening to you.

Don’t look at me like that Pete.

…LOADING FILE: HEADCANNONS_ LORE

Connie has found her brain in irreparable damage after playing too many animal, eating and dating sims. When she looks at people, she sees pre-selected responses. She sees faces and animals that aren’t there. 

Her psychosis went from borderline funny to scary, real fast. She is often seen talking to a figure named “Pete”. An evil digital golden retriever who apparates in her reality, that she can touch, be bitten by, and hear. Pete’s request have gotten more malevolent as the time goes on. 

Connie has been losing time, waking up in strange places. Sometimes blood in her hands, sometimes additional credits in her account from a source unknown.

Connie is recklessly good. Take a stranger home and let them sleep if they’re cold, good. Ignore Pete’s warnings kind of good. Give you her last credit if it means you can eat, she can always just watch an eating sim to feel full. She will give all that she has, even if it leaves her with nothing. 

Connie is NAIVE and often gets herself into trouble. The type to join a cult or gang by accident if the pay is good and the people seem kind. 

…LOADING FILE: WANTED_CONNECTIONS

PLEASE DON’T DIE?: Someone who is very concerned for Connie’s wellbeing, a friend. This could have developed at the club, or between two very poor kids growing up in the tenement. 

EASY TO USE: Someone who is malevolent and feeds on Connie’s naivety for their own good. Taking a portion of her dancing money with a sob story.  

LOVE CRAZY: Someone, who despite Connie’s obvious  failed mental state, is still enamored by her deeply kind and reckless nature. The antithesis of her dating sim. 

[d1ss0lv3]

         D1SS0LV3  —  :  written by kit ¹ for soulkillerfm.

     under read more, click on names to be redirected to biographies.

A TRIBUTE TO THE GODS OF SCIENCE AND SUFFERING; IN THE CONFINES OF A STERILE SANCTUM, YOU ARE BOTH THE MUSE AND THE SACRIFICE.

SON   HAEUN,   twenty8,   SOLDIER   1ST   CLASS,   codename:   ALATUS,   ICHIBANGASE   -   EISHER   CORPORATION   samurai-vi   test   subject   (   I.D.   #9634   ),   lawful   good,   HUMAN (?),   resilient   &&.   aloof.  ( han sohee, cis woman, she/her. )

GEARS THAT WHIR SOFTLY BENEATH A WEATHERED DUSTER; A RELIC OF A VANISHED AGE, YET YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN PART OF THIS SHIFTING WORLD.

LESLEY CORTES,   forty,   COWBOY,   chaotic   good,   HUMAN,   charismatic   &&.   hedonistic.  ( santiago cabrera, cis man, he/him. )

THE FORM OF THINGS BREAKING APART; WHEN YOU SMILE, IT'S AS THOUGH THE UNIVERSE ITSELF HAS CONSPIRED TO ALIGN WITH YOUR INTENTIONS.

STERLING BLACKHURST,   thirty1,   BIOTIC MARK,   biotics:   SPATIAL DISTORTION,   CYCLODIAL AIR professor of spacecraft engineering,   lawful   good,   HUMAN,   allocentric   &&.   private.  ( dane dehaan, cis man, he/him. )

[h4ngedman]

BEWARE CITIZENS: several new sightings were received in recent reports of a certain suspicious individual roaming the shadows of neo california, who could otherwise be identified as ETHAN SEO ― an unassuming bartender in their late twenties. their associations & exact location are unknown. according to the reports, SEO has no history of illegal activity, however the individual might be involved with a certain cartel. whichever the case, please refrain from further engagement in case of close contact.       VIEWER READER DISCRETION IS HIGHLY ADVISED.

Ⅰ ― STATISTICS. Ⅱ ― BIOGRAPHY. Ⅲ ― STATEMENTS.   Ⅵ ― CONNECTIONS.          Ⅴ ― FULL RECORD.

[gh0stbled]

𝐈𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝… 【 fka twigs //. cis-female //. she, her 】 Welcome, RYN NOIR. You have successfully been loaded into The Hub. According to our records, you are THIRTY-SIX and have held citizenship for TWENTY-ONE YEARS in the barrier city, Neo California. Your key attributes have been identified as VERSATILE and INSOLENT. Please confirm your CHAOTIC NEUTRAL to proceed. Our data indicates that you are currently employed with THE JAZZ COMBO CABARET as HEAD ENTERTAINER //. MIXOLOGIST at ELYSIUM //. ASSOCIATE for the DIAMOND KINGS //. HONOVII of THE FORGOTTEN. For your safety and security, it is crucial that all background information is accurate. Further analysis of our archives highlights your alignment with at least moving like liquid light, shifting forms with every step, you dance a whispered spell that bends reality. Each motion transcends the flesh, as you become something more—unbound, ethereal, a force of nature woven through rhythm and grace; Draped in black latex, heels sharp as your gaze, a chip pulsing beneath your skin—you're no longer the child of the left behind, now a storm of steel and shadows and //. or CAT PEOPLE (PUTTING OUT FIRE) BY DAVID BOWIE. ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ Verification 100% complete. Please adhere to all local regulations and laws during your stay. We trust that your time here will be both fulfilling and safe. 】

CHAPTER I: See these eyes, so green? I can stare for a thousand years...

You’re a storm born from dust and decay, the aftermath of a world that crumbled before you were even a thought. A child of the end, two years after the fall—yet they call you Forgotten. Like a curse whispered, you wear it, let it slide off your skin. What’s left to care about when you’ve outlived the destruction of everything? Your people? They didn’t care, either. The dead world never broke them. They built something new from the bones of the old, survived when the moon came crashing down, wiped away the tears that stained their cheeks, and dug in deeper. Together, they made a tribe from the ruins, bound by hunger, loss, and the echoes of a life that no longer existed. Your mother told you once—you were a miracle. Born when the world was poison, when radiation from sunstones above scorched the earth and sickness took everything. She lost your father before you ever knew him, claimed by the same illness that plagued so many. The Underground wasn’t finished, wasn’t safe, but you lived. You thrived. You remember the dirt under your feet, the wild abandon of running through the tunnels with the other children. The lessons—they were always lessons. How to survive, how to grow food, how to speak to the plants and coax life from a dead earth. Food was scarce, but no one hoarded. Greed had ruined the world once. Your people wouldn’t let it happen again. They believed they were saved for a reason, spared from the wrath that fell on those who tried to play God. Your leaders taught that the world was now the way it was meant to be—humbled, stripped of the desires that had led to ruin. It was a harsh doctrine, but you soaked it in. You learned fast. By twelve, you were a hunter, eyes trained to read the skies for danger, muscles honed through brutal training. You moved through the world above, navigating the craters and scars of the earth with ease. You saw life there, twisted but persistent, and it stirred something in you—something that grew when you caught sight of the barrier, glowing in the distance. The world beyond called to you, even as your tribe preached caution, preached restraint. When your time came, you left without hesitation. Neo California awaited, and with it, a new kind of life. You didn’t look back. You promised you’d return. But deep down, you knew you wouldn’t. The city hit you like a slap to the face. Neon lights, steel towers, the hum of machines. It was a different kind of wild. Dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with nature. But you were trained for survival. Your first night, you nearly died, but you fought back, muscles and instinct saving you in the moment that counted. The city was sin. You knew that. But you couldn’t help but be drawn to it. The art, the beauty, the chaos—it wrapped around you, pulled you in deeper. You danced, as you had in the tunnels, but here your movements became something more. You bent your body into shapes that made people stare, made them applaud. You fed on their praise, found yourself craving it. Was it a sin to want more than survival? To feel joy in the excess, in the creation of something beautiful? You didn’t know. You didn’t care. But the city changed you. Hardened you. Made you forget. You swore you wouldn’t, but the years passed, and the memories of home grew distant. The city taught you its own lessons—ones about greed, about desire, about the selfishness that lingered in every dark corner. It was a different kind of danger, one you had to learn to navigate. You kept your distance, kept your heart locked away. But you grew sharp. The city made you hard, made you fierce. And still, somehow, you found a strange kind of peace in its chaos.

CHAPTER II: See these eyes, so red? Red like jungle burning bright...

You’ve grown accustomed to the sharp edges of this city—Neo California, a place where survival is a skill and trust is a luxury. Day after day, you witness the struggles of those who can’t defend themselves, swallowed by the dog-eat-dog world that thrives within the barrier. You’ve learned not to interfere, not to let the chaos pull you under. But sometimes, fate has other plans. It’s on a night like any other, the neon lights casting eerie shadows, that you're outnumbered by a so-called "super fan" and his gang of hungry wolves after a shift at the Jazz Combo Cabaret. You, who have always danced through danger, suddenly find yourself cornered. But salvation comes in an unexpected form—the leader of The Diamond Kings, a ghost among legends. They steps in, and just like that, the tide shifts. You’re grateful, but not overly so. Survival is a dance, after all, and you’ve danced alone for so long. Yet something changes that night. A bond begins to weave itself between you, subtle but undeniable. The meetings happen more often—an unspoken understanding. The physical and emotional lines blur, but you both know that in this city, time is as fleeting as safety. It’s a connection neither of you can afford to fully explore, but on the hardest nights, when the weight of the world presses in too tight, one of you always finds the other’s door. No words are needed. A quiet understanding passes between you, a respite from the city’s constant roar. Eventually, you make a decision—not fully entangled, but tied enough to feel the pull. You agree to become an associate, a silent observer. Report what you see, they tell you, and they’ll handle the rest. You don’t like getting involved, not in a way that binds you to more trouble than it’s worth. But there’s a flicker of something deeper, something buried beneath the years. The abandoned part of you, the child who once lived by a different code, listens and agrees. And so, you take them up on their offer.

CHAPTER III: See these tears, so blue? An ageless heart that can never mend...

The irony, sharp as a blade, cuts deep—being labeled Forgotten, only to forget your own people, your own values. You came to this city and it changed you, morphed you into exactly what they warned you about. Selfish. Hungry for something to fill the void inside, basking in fleeting pleasures that offer no peace. Sometimes, you look up at the artificial skies, glowing a false blue, and you remember the young woman you once were—sneaking out from the underground, just to catch a glimpse of the real sky, the imperfect one that stretched endlessly above. Togetherness. You think of that word often. Of how your people used to protect one another, sharing everything from food to warmth. But here? It feels distant, buried beneath layers of who you've become. Ryn Noir. It was supposed to be a stage name, just a mask to wear in this glittering chaos, but now it’s become your identity. The you who carries your true name—sacred and unspoken—feels like a shadow, lost to time. On stage, they see the allure, the enigma, the survivor. You are no longer the woman who once danced barefoot in the dirt, who prayed for the sky to hold out its mercy. Now, you're just another ghost of Neo California, someone who hides her heart behind a veil of mystery, because that’s what this place does—it pulls you into the grey, until you forget the colors that once defined you. As you stand behind the bar, listening to others spill their confessions, you realize everyone here battles their own demons. Each of them, like you, walks the fine line between right and wrong, good and evil. You wonder, in those moments of quiet reflection, if any of them remember where they came from. You think of your mother, of the faces that raised you, their love and teachings fading with time, and you can't help but think—perhaps the title Forgotten was always meant to be. Perhaps it was never just a cruel label, but a prophecy.

Still this pulsing night, A plague I call a heartbeat, Just be still with me, You wouldn't believe what I've been through...

[d1gitallyfvckd]

Welcome, EDITH BUSCH. You have successfully been loaded into THE HUB. According to our records, you are FORTY-SEVEN and have held citizenship for FORTY-ONE years in the barrier city, Neo California. Your key attributes have been identified as CUNNING and DECEITFUL. Please confirm your MORALLY CROOKED to proceed. Our data indicates that you are currently employed with FBI, DIRECTOR LEVEL. For your safety and security, it is crucial that all background information is accurate. Further analysis of our archives highlights your alignment with at least TAILORED BLAZERS AND FLASK MARTINIS and // FEMME FATALE THE VELVET UNDERGROUND. ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ Verification 100% complete. Please adhere to all local regulations and laws during your stay. We trust that your time here will be both fulfilling and safe.

MOODBOARD | THEME SONG ....file corrupted, encryption [enter password] ACCESS

[d1gitallyfvckd]

there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average human being to supply any given army on any given day and the best at murder are those who preach against it and the best at hate are those who preach love and the best at war finally are those who preach peace

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Once you have the taste of sugar, can you settle for the taste of only salt? What is hunger but an insatiable need. What if you only hunger for things outside of tangible needs? Who needs sustenance from the fruit of the earth if the taste of an orange can be metabolized and free from your body in hours. Edith hungered for things most would never touch and she would give blood and teeth to have them. 

She was always a hungry girl--no, greedy. She feverishly bit her mother’s nipples as a babe until her milk ran dry. She never let a younger sibling win a race or a bet. More than anything, she hungered for the love of her father. A father who saw the hunger and righteousness in his daughter’s eyes and wished to trample it like a bug under his foot. But hunger was a cockroach safe even against the blows from the celestial gate. While her father planned his ways of growing his wealth, Edith planned for the day she would make him small. The day she could crush him under her pretty little fingers. She was relentless in her pursuit, the top of her studies and straight into the academy -- not under the wing of the corporate path her father had planned for her and her sibling. The assault of words came, little girl, idiot, foolish. Her father lacked one thing, foresight. That’s why he never quite made it to megacorporation status and was sucked under a forced acquisition and hostile takeover by Gestalt. Edith would be different. 

The story of her rise to power is long and full of betrayal. She will sell a friend and her morals as quick as a match bends if it meant she could control the world in her palm. Her charisma was unmatched, the ability to buy your trust without opening her credit book. Then the betrayal, the compromising photos of a political rival, planted evidence, limbs of your loved one left at your door. And her, sat upon her desk moving strings like a puppeteer as she watched those around her scramble for revenge they would never taste.  The list of those she wronged was long, but  the list of those who feared wronging her was longer. 

With power came her vices. Who can stop you when you are on the top? Who will tell the King no as he takes what he wants. Gambling, red eye, hookers, younger men, and she loved nothing more than an 8 am swig from her flask. No matter what she did, or the power she had, nothing quelled her hunger. Until she met him. Young and stupid, he radiated to her like a puppy does its mother. He was a nobody. A porter at Elysium when she overstayed until the lights went on. She couldn’t pinpoint when it happened. When she watched his chest rise and fall in his sleep. When she ran a hand through his curly locs. He divulged his secrets and life to her, and she could only ever give him half of her. Still the thought of the day without him ached deep in her soul. But then the hunger came knocking once more, she could not ignore the call.

How far would you go for power? There was no end to her rope. When the God Hand came to her in pact, she knew her final leap. A soul for a soul. He was hers to spare and unknown to him, she had offered him for her thirty pieces of silver. Judas was reincarnated into her soul but she would not die from her grief. She had sacrificed her only weakness, and now, there was nothing stopping her. Though, she saw his face often around the bend, before she only ever saw his memory in her dreams. The fear in his eyes as he asked, why? But dreams are only as powerful as sobriety, so she drank until she only saw darkness behind her eyes.

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Edith Busch. Occupation: FBI DIRECTOR Age: forty-seven Sun Sign: capricorn Venus Sign: aries MB: ENTJ - commander  Fears: insignificance, perception of weakness, strong emotional connections. 

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Wanted Connections

High-ranking gang member to move weight with. Government x Gang corruption

High-ranking gang member for murder for hire / dirty-work.

GREG to my TOM!Fem.

Younger male sugar baby.

Political and government connections.

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Headcannons

Is a serial journalist killer, doesn't like people snooping or media she doesn't help control.

Had a presidental race run and lost pretty early on, those above her told her it was not her time.

Does dirty work for President Steele, the list is long and can better be answered by what she hasn't done.

Cowboyphobic and Diamond King phobic, does not like vigilantism or anything that threatens her claim.

May or may not have had her father forcefully braintripped.