Ending social decay starts with the shithead in the mirror.

Hello, I'm a pianist and producer from Montreal. I have a doctorate in piano performance and I also like to create electronic when I have time. I make all the music by myself.

Amo las canciones de 😍 odio y amor 😠 con la misma pasión. (Character digital)

Hello, my name is Omar. I make music and upload various demos i have made at home here. 
Peace and Love.

The neon flicker of Hotel 87 bled into the midnight mist like a broken heartbeat. Roxy killed the ignition of her battered hover coupe and stepped into the humming night, Knax curling around her ankles with a mechanical purr. Above them, electric signs buzzed warnings she could no longer read - languages lost in the churn of compressed time.

Time Police cruisers blinked along the skyline, their sirens warped into ghostly howls by the static air. Roxy tugged the brim of her cracked racing cap lower over her eyes and adjusted the drive compressor on her belt. She had no time to lose, not tonight. Not with Rain’s last transmission still pulsing weakly through the Nexus.

Inside, Hotel 87 smelled like ozone and lost dreams. Holographic guests shimmered between floors, replaying loops from a century ago. At the front desk, a synth-masked concierge gave a mechanical nod, slipping Roxy a black data chip under the guise of exchanging room keys.

"TY Mountain," the synth whispered, voice glitching on the last syllable. "She's waiting for you there."

Knax let out a low growl, his fur sparking with the faint blue glow of danger. Roxy tucked the chip into her jacket and shot a glance at the mirror behind the desk. In the reflection, a Time Officer's badge gleamed like a silver bullet.

The chase had already begun.

She tightened her gloves, tapped her communicator, and smiled beneath the neon haze.

"Come on, Knax," she murmured. "Let's burn some time."

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