Ragecore Stories

In the dim underbelly of Gliptipnion's cyber-warped cityscape, Glipp wakes in a busted DRNX-4 drone coupe, deep behind the Drainlight Casino. The air is syrup-thick, his Monac-o-Meter blinks green, and the last thing spinning is a glowing BuzzBallz FizzRiot in the cupholder. But this isn't just another comedown-leakforms have been detected. With a grin and a whisper-"Still me. Still swerved."-Glipp slaps the splice and tears through space-time into Null-VIP, a haunted, forbidden district where only ghosts and glitched realities dwell. Pursued by unknown forces demanding the return of the FizzRiot, Glipp doesn't run. He drinks. Reality shatters beneath him. The tale ends mid-fall. A euphoric, rage-soaked transmission from the depths of the Glippverse. Drone Swerve '87 isn't a story-it's a splicepass.

FT: tumor 666

"vivir mientras de deba no mientras se pueda".