lovecraftian

The Case in Red

by PulpPistil

The Lower Decks never really sleep. They just get quieter when something expensive lands. Umbriel Vega steps out of the first hatch like the ferrocrete already belongs to her: living void-metal at her throat, black ichor moving over dark skin, tentacles tasting the air. Lortha and Entha come with her. They are not here to blend in for long. The second shuttle opens on a cleaner lie—another team, another reason to want the same object, the same climb, the same city that still thinks it is only a city. Between the landing pad and the upper stacks: yard guards, street crews, broadcast heat, and rooms where bodies are the product and the cover. Public sex and public killing share the stairwells. The case moves slow. The people carrying weapons toward it do not. The Virago Games are on. Produced using AI tools.