Thoes agents. How many has he killed now? Five? He's lost count. So many of these 'STEM' agents and barely even a brake to enjoy his art. Until now.
Upon his man made humble abode of his art. He thought there was someone new in the area. His eye watched them. His obscura trailing them in silence and he knew it was another one of thoes agents. Through a flash of blue light he hid himself behind a door he just passed. To study him, himself." A new art piece you think my dearest obscura..?" He asked the long necked moaning camera monstrosity. Wrapping his arms around it to confer his creation." Why don't we go introduce ourselves..mm?"
“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” Pluto swears under his breath as he leans against the wall, taking just a moment to let himself breathe amongst the morbid images around him. Bodies turned to art. Fascinating, beautiful, but there’s still a threat in the air, where he has to consider who the fuck put these pieces here in the first place.
He’s no soldier like the fallen agents, he’s a short man whose face is covered by a blank, black mask, and the rest of his body is completely covered by black clothing, but his otherness in this world is still evident, and what could get him killed if he’s not careful. He adjusts his mask before pushing off the wall and keeps moving, unaware of the artist watching him.