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With harsh noise music screaming in the background, Mark Silverhammer lay on his bed, staring at his dusty and poorly-maintained ceiling. The album he was listening to right now, Throb Devil by AAAAAAAAAHHHHH (getting the precise amount of A’s and H’s down was necessary for writing about or searching up material regarding the band), was one he’d illegally downloaded off some internet piracy site. Navigating it required traversing a veritable minefield of scam ads, unclosable pornographic video, and virus popups, but it was worth it for Mark. This was because it let him avoid making an account on a larger music streaming service or something of that ilk, which, if he theoretically did, would make his location traceable to his name. Probably. He wasn’t really sure but didn’t want to risk it. He also avoided leaving his house or doing anything that might attract the attention of the law, again so his name couldn’t be traced to his location. All of this was to avoid the wrath of Baronet Twirl and his underlings, who, as previously mentioned, fucking hated Mark and wanted nothing more than to flay him alive.
He continued trying to focus on the screeching power electronics in the background, but his psyche continually returned to paranoia over the inevitable success of Twirl’s skiptracing. If they did find him, really, what the hell could he do? Blorbians may be incredibly weak, but with how many of them there were in Glopville, they could easily overpower one as frail as Mark. He nervously attempted to shift his attention back to what he was listening to. This did not work.
His apartment was similarly disheveled when compared to his fellow tenants Xylo, Wef, Mell, and Aster. He tried to keep it looking relatively nice, but due to his youthful preoccupation with science, he never bothered to learn interior design, and god knows it’s too late now, seeing as he was at the near-terminal age of 29. A few posters of other really shitty bands lined the walls, along with a calendar. He intended to use this to mark off dates in the future in which he had plans, but it was currently almost completely empty, due to his self-imposed reclusiveness. Lying on his beaten-up bed, sheets sprawled on the floor next to him, he stared blankly at nothing in particular and thought about his oncoming doom, along with how tired he was.
But as he was getting ready to go to sleep, a knock came on his door. He got up and slowly opened it. “Holy shit,” Wef said, “is that an AAAAAAAAAHHHHH album you’re listening to right now?”
“Uh…” Mark stammered, “y-yes…”
“I had no idea there was a fellow fan of them in this apartment!” Mell said. “What’s your favorite album of theirs?” she asked way too excitedly.
“It, uh, is probably, um, Human Screaming Music…”
“That is quite a good one! Great choice,” Wef said, in a significantly less condescending tone than usual.
“U-uh… yeah…”
“What’s your name? I’m Mell and this is my friend Wef, we live in the place a little upstairs from here.”
“It’s, uh, Ma- not that actually. My name is, uh, Currently U. Title.” He figured they were insane enough to not question his name being a literal work-in-progress.
“Ah, well, nice to meet you Currently! Hey, we were just about to go out on the town and engage in general mischief. You want to join us?”
“I… I’m not sure…”
“Oh come on, it’ll be a good time,” Wef said.
“Uh…”
“Alright it’s agreed then,” Mell said as she grabbed Mark and pulled him out of his apartment. They took a quick stroll through the nighttime air of that city and talked more about power noise music, which was a pretty incomprehensible stream of thoughts to the few people they passed. They came to that bridge in the middle of that city and the pair led Mark down below it, where, according to them, “really fun things tend to happen this time of night.” Mark was trying to keep his voice down. His trust in these two not doing anything illegal was nonexistent.
Wef and Mell went over to part of the bridge reachable underneath it and pulled out two spray cans. “Are you versed in the art of graffiti, Currently?” Mell asked.
“U-uh…”
“Don’t worry, we’ll show ya how it’s done.” She took up her can and sprayed a crudely-drawn depiction of the male genitals on the bridge. This made her burst out laughing, having to catch her breath after due to the sheer comic genius she had unleashed. “Now, Wef, give him another demonstration.” She took up her can and sprayed an identical glyph on a different part of the bridge. They both cracked the fuck up about it again, despite it really not being that funny.
“Here, give it a shot,” Wef said, handing her can to Mark. He turned to the bridge and slowly and shakily lifted it up towards the wall. He was already on edge due to their extremely loud and attention-calling laughing, and he wanted nothing more than to call less attention to the party. He drew what he intended to be another genital but what looked more like a mess of random scribbles once he was done. He sighed and handed it back to Wef. She walked over to the wall and gave it a once-over, afterward turning to Mark and saying “Dude this looks awesome, you’re clearly a natural graffitist.”
“U-uh… ok… thanks…”
“Yeah, come on, let’s go do more illegal activities!” she said, grabbing Mark and Mell and pulling them over to some other nearby zone. He was really starting to get freaked out by these people. The distant police sirens sounding in the distance only made this worse.
And, in the block over, Trent Bloodbag was nearing his next victim.