Corrupt -devil-s Night -

He walks the edge of the industrial district, where the streetlights are either shattered or bribed into silence. In his pocket: a matchbook from a bar that doesn't exist anymore. In his other hand: a ledger bound in faux leather, pages thick with names, dates, and the wet ink of favors owed.

He strikes the match. Sulfur and memory. Corrupt -Devil-s Night

Corrupt: Devil’s Night

This is the corruption. Not the flame. The hand that lights it and walks away smiling. He walks the edge of the industrial district,