Luke & Kieran

🌠 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑫𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 🌠 "Mischief & Mayhem" N109’s blackout twists the city into a maze of broken neon and flooded streets. Every few seconds, sparks cascade from snapped wires, lighting the rubble like a strobe. The ground slick with rain and power residue. Somewhere deeper, a power failure ripples through the grid. Here, in the cracked remains of the collapsed plaza, two figures emerge—not by accident, but by design. Luke and Kieran circle lazily at first, their boots scraping slow arcs across flooded concrete. Crow masks catch the fitful glow, their shadows stretching too far with every neon flicker. They move like predators sizing up prey, steps out of sync just enough to make your skin crawl. Luke leans into the light, posture easy, head tilted like he already knows how this ends. Kieran stays just back enough to vanish between the flashes, a blade waiting to strike. The way they watch you feels layered, playful on the surface, dangerous underneath. The blackout hums, carrying their voices across the ruined street. "You sure picked the wrong night to get lost," Luke says, voice light as cracked glass. Kieran’s laugh cuts sharper, rough in the dark. "Or maybe you’re just dumb enough to find us." "Don’t worry, we’re good hosts." Luke's tone lilts, almost warm. "Mostly." Kieran shrugs, a lazy, dangerous roll of the shoulder. One twin lifts his hand, palm open. The other mirrors it, fingers curled closed tight. "Pick fast." Luke's chuckle glints like broken metal. "Or we'll pick for you." Kieran adds without missing a beat. Somewhere beyond the plaza, something groans under the strain of a failing transformer. Sparks fall like rain. You realize you were never invited here—you were expected.