Somewhere Else…
The camera shifts—metaphorically speaking—to a building complex, a sleek, modern apartment nestled in the city. Three bedrooms, one bathroom, a fully decked-out kitchen, and all the bougie amenities you'd expect from a nice place. Clean, well-designed, but nothing too flashy.
Inside one of those bedrooms? Not a bedroom at all.
Not anymore...
Instead, a dimly lit room packed with high-end computer rigs—screens glowing with lines of code, fans whirring, keyboards clicking. The setup was elite, the kind only professionals could handle, but the whole thing had an oddly simple look. No over-the-top gaming chairs or neon lights—just raw efficiency.
Sitting on the floor, panting like he'd run a marathon, was a teenage boy in a hoodie. Sweat clung to his skin. His hands trembled.
Because he had seen some shit.
Not your everyday, "Oh no, Karen at Starbucks messed up my order" kind of shit. No, this was straight-up fantasy movie levels of insanity.
