hellka

Rain slicks the neon-drenched alley, steam hissing from a ruptured pipe. Hellka leans against wet brick, pink cornrows catching fractured light, maroon dull glinting as she twirls a flick-knife. A shadow darts—too fast, too quiet. She smirks, dark hourglass silhouette sharp against the glow. “Ah… you’re early. And so poorly hidden.”