The body count is rising. The lights are getting low.
Murder City moves to the pulse of disco and dread. The music is loud, the drugs are cheap, and the dance floor is packed with beautiful bodies pretending they don't hear the screams. Sleep paralysis demons creep in from the shadows, some faceless and crafting masks from twisted twigs, feathers, broken glass, and chicken bones. Others have feathers for eyes that can be harvested, then smoked. Another takes form in a bodiless voice, whispering bloodlust into sleeping ears. But, the city embraces the chaos, flocking to the Disco.
Netti drifts through it all, an inbetweener at a corrupt cartoon studio who's fostering a habit of stealing masks from demons. Wrapped in his fur coat, he stalks the city's shadows, drawn to the masks and the madness by something he doesn't understand. He's got nothing but a sadistic cop, the logic of his nightmares, and a city that offers no answers.
Slick with blood, hot with neon, and grooving to the sound of blade on bone, the Disco never stops.
