Pulling out of the Elysium driveway, the city lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of colour as I navigated the traffic. The familiar feel of the steering wheel beneath my hands offered a sense of control, a counterpoint to the discordant symphony that had been my life lately. The night of excess felt like a distant memory, a harsh note I hoped wouldn't repeat itself.But just as I settled into a rhythm of comfort, a familiar voice cut through the din. "Hey! Ben!"Slamming on the brakes, I glanced in the rearview mirror to see Curry, practically sprinting down the sidewalk, waving his arms frantically. A flicker of annoyance crossed me – did this guy not understand the concept of boundaries?He finally caught up to the car, panting and looking slightly worse for wear than before. "Whoa," he said, grabbing his breath. "Didn't expect to see you here so soon.""Just picking up my car," I replied, my voice clipped. "Shouldn't you be… somewhere else?"Curry, however, seemed oblivious to my d

The cacophony of Elysium slammed into me like a physical wave as I stepped through the gleaming doors. Gone was the serenity of the night, replaced by a pulsating mass of bodies thrumming to the relentless beat of the music. Strobe lights strobed, painting the crowd in fractured bursts of colour, while the air shimmered with the invisible sweat of a thousand intoxicated bodies.In the centre of the dance floor, a man stood upon a raised platform, bathed in a spotlight. It was Belson, the man Curry had dubbed "Mr. Moneybags." He was everything a caricature of wealth would be – a gaudy suit clinging to a portly frame, a diamond-encrusted watch glinting on his wrist, and a face perpetually twisted into a sneer. Around him, the crowd pulsated with a feverish energy, their cheers and jeers a chaotic counterpoint to the pounding music."More! More!" they roared, a chant fueled by an insatiable hunger for spectacle. Belson, his face flushed with a mixture of champagne and misplaced importanc

Sunlight speared through the dusty blinds of Curry's Miami apartment, casting harsh stripes across the cluttered floor. The air still thrummed with the faint aftershock of last night's victory, a victory that tasted more like ashes in my mouth. With a groan, I pushed myself off the lumpy couch, the remnants of Curry's rhythmic snoring still clinging to the stale air."Thanks for the crash pad, man," I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep and a persistent headache.A muffled response came from the depths of the worn-out sofa. "Anytime, big spender," Curry mumbled, not bothering to open his eyes. A ghost of a smile played on my lips despite the turmoil within. Curry, ever the optimist, saw only victory. But I couldn't ignore the discordant melody playing in my gut, a counterpoint to the celebratory thrumming of the city walking outside.Leaving Curry to his sleep, I stepped out onto the humid Miami morning. The familiar sights of the city greeted me – the neon glow of Art Deco hotels, the

Days blurred into nights, the frenetic energy of Miami a constant thrum beneath my skin. Sleep came in stolen moments, punctuated by restless dreams and the persistent echo of Zephyr's voice. The weight of her control hung heavy, a constant reminder of the city's new power dynamic.Then, a knock on the door shattered the silence of the afternoon. A jolt of surprise shot through me – visitors were a rarity in this penthouse of solitude. "Come in," I mumbled, not bothering to look up.The door creaked open, and a familiar voice filled the room. "Yo Ben! You up for some video games?" It was Curry. My unlikely companion from the depths of Elysium. A jolt of surprise shot through me. "Curry! Come on in, man. Didn't expect to see you here." He shuffled in, a goofy grin plastered across his face. "Yeah, well," he stammered, scratching the back of his neck, "figured you might be bored after, you know, that whole…" he trailed off, making a vague circling motion with his hand. "Elysi

The cool night air was a welcome slap, washing away the lingering sweat and strobing lights. Leaning against the rough brick wall, I let out a contented sigh. My muscles ached pleasantly, and a smile still hung stubbornly on my face. "Looks like you had fun," a voice said beside me. I turned to see the girl with the blue hair, her face less painted but still radiating that same mischievous energy. "Most definitely," I replied, unable to suppress a grin. "This place is… something else." Her companions, the group I'd danced with earlier, flanked her, their expressions a mix of amusement and something I couldn't quite decipher. "You're not from around here, are you?" the blue-haired girl asked, her voice laced with a playful challenge. I hesitated, caught between honesty and a residual fear of exposure. "Not exactly. Just visiting." "Ah, a city tourist on a quest for authenticity," another girl chimed in, her tone dripping with mock seriousness. I chuckled, appreciating their hu