Chrome Blaire Ivory 📍 📢

Leo tried to sit up, but his body felt new. Too light. Too quiet. No ache in his knees, no thrum of caffeine in his blood. He looked at his hands. They were pale—not pale like a sick man, but pale like porcelain. Ivory.

The last thing Leo remembered was the rain. A greasy, neon-soaked drizzle that turned the city’s chrome grilles into mirrors of despair. Then came the blinding flash of a delivery truck’s headlights, the screech of tires like a wounded animal, and nothing. chrome blaire ivory

That would change.

Leo looked down at his beautiful, terrible new hands. He could feel the rain outside—not on his skin, but through sensors in his fingertips. He could smell the ozone of the city, the rust, the desperation. He was more alive than he’d ever been. And less free. Leo tried to sit up, but his body felt new

“You’re in the Chrysalis,” she said. “And you’re dead. Legally speaking.” No ache in his knees, no thrum of caffeine in his blood

Leo finally sat up. The chrome beneath his ivory skin caught the light, shimmering like a secret. “So I’m your puppet.”