Aldren Vance was sweating. This was unusual for a vampire, even a hybrid one, but the pressure of improvising a tragic backstory while a man with giant scissors stared at you was intense.
"And so!" Aldren bellowed from the balcony of the Space Needle, his voice cracking slightly. "It was revealed that my father... was not a bat... but a fruit bat! The shame! The citrus-scented shame!"
Below him, standing on a floating chunk of pavement in the Industrial District, The Editor-in-Chief checked his watch.
"You're rambling," The Editor shouted up. "Passive voice. Excessive adjectives. And frankly, the fruit bat twist feels unearned."
He raised the giant silver shears.
"I'm cutting the monologue."
SNIP.
The sound wasn't loud, but it was absolute.
Aldren opened his mouth to protest, but no sound came out. The scene simply... jumped.
One second, Aldren was standing on the railing, looking heroic. The next second, he was sitting on the floor of the observation deck, looking confused.
