Outsiders get tired of petty vengeance and sell the server to someone else with a scan rig and an enemy’s brain. The first generation of damned, oh, we suffered. I step through its target-acquisition range and it flails at empty air. From the river alongside us, a crimson-skinned demon emerges. I lead her on the new-arrival walk towards the Searing Throne, empty atop its hill of skulls. She’d been explaining her work as a journalist (something something investigative), but she falls silent as blood drips straight down through the base of her hand, as if her wrist didn’t exist. Jaya flicks a sharp-toothed imp off the back of her hand like it’s an oversized mosquito. The third best thing about hell is explaining to the new kids why it’s so glitchy.
