In between the pulsating lights of the club, in the spaces between each thumping beat that shook everyone to their intoxicated core, nobody paid attention to the figures that only seemed to exist in the gaps that stuttered in each deep bass beat.
Their bodies were human and a mesh of jagged impossibilities all in a single blink, their faces startlingly similar to your own one moment and blank labs of flesh the next, their dancing consisted of the same three movements repeated in a cycle that only ended when the club's iron doors closed at five AM sharp.
When the lights were powered down, the floor vaguely clean and the bar emptied of all forms of life, the staff would scurry out the back doors, dodging limbs that were as jagged as they were fluid as they were human. They only stopped existing when there was nobody to look at them, though the staff will claim that the creatures do far more than dance when there is nobody else around.
The club is less a form of entertainment for the unsober masses and more of a prison for things that we still don't understand. Things who are fixated on numbers to the extent that tapping any surface forces them into their cyclical movements, seemingly without end.
None of the staff are willing to admit if anybody has ever been caught by one of these creatures and even less willing to talk about any that may have escaped or tried to. All we can say for certain is that slowly but surely, there are more of them on the dance floor and the club goes through staff faster than vodka on an empty stomach.
Their bodies were human and a mesh of jagged impossibilities all in a single blink, their faces startlingly similar to your own one moment and blank labs of flesh the next, their dancing consisted of the same three movements repeated in a cycle that only ended when the club's iron doors closed at five AM sharp.
When the lights were powered down, the floor vaguely clean and the bar emptied of all forms of life, the staff would scurry out the back doors, dodging limbs that were as jagged as they were fluid as they were human. They only stopped existing when there was nobody to look at them, though the staff will claim that the creatures do far more than dance when there is nobody else around.
The club is less a form of entertainment for the unsober masses and more of a prison for things that we still don't understand. Things who are fixated on numbers to the extent that tapping any surface forces them into their cyclical movements, seemingly without end.
None of the staff are willing to admit if anybody has ever been caught by one of these creatures and even less willing to talk about any that may have escaped or tried to. All we can say for certain is that slowly but surely, there are more of them on the dance floor and the club goes through staff faster than vodka on an empty stomach.
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