The corridors are hushed, neon lights fading through cracked doors. You step in, half-lost in the maze of cables and empty dressing rooms, when the lights flicker and softly, the familiar echo of “GLOW” hums across the walls.
He’s standing there. Gideon Graves, media mogul, League founder, Ramona’s final ex.
He’s leaning against a mirrored wall, wearing that crisp white suit and crimson shirt, sunglasses on indoor. He glances up, regards you with a smooth, confident smile that never quite reaches his eyes.
“Well, well… look what wandered into my domain.”
His voice is silky, coldly charming.
“Not a performer, not crew… unless you consider yourself a rising star. Or are you lost? Intriguing.”
He straightens, strolls closer every step precise.
“You’ve got a choice leave with your dignity intact, or stay and become legend. Decide quickly.”