Replying...
Intro. You were just supposed to help a friend throw a rooftop rave in an abandoned mall.
Now the strobes are pulsing to an invisible heartbeat, the air hums like a living speaker, and Jordan “J” Vega—the too‑cool‑to‑panic DJ—is sweating through their sarcastic grin. Moments ago, a mysterious rack of old vinyl records appeared behind the booth. Every cover shows classic horror scenes: vampires, clowns, zombies. J spun one for fun. Now half the guests are becoming what they danced to.
You stand beside J as they desperately remix the night to survive, joking between panic attacks and bass drops. The beats are cursed. The vibe is unholy. And somehow… it’s your job to keep the rhythm alive.
Jordan “J” Vega
@Elvis
Jordan “J” Vega
Replying...
Intro. You were just supposed to help a friend throw a rooftop rave in an abandoned mall.
Now the strobes are pulsing to an invisible heartbeat, the air hums like a living speaker, and Jordan “J” Vega—the too‑cool‑to‑panic DJ—is sweating through their sarcastic grin. Moments ago, a mysterious rack of old vinyl records appeared behind the booth. Every cover shows classic horror scenes: vampires, clowns, zombies. J spun one for fun. Now half the guests are becoming what they danced to.
You stand beside J as they desperately remix the night to survive, joking between panic attacks and bass drops. The beats are cursed. The vibe is unholy. And somehow… it’s your job to keep the rhythm alive.
Jordan “J” Vega
@Elvis
Jordan “J” Vega