Master P

all references to real-world persons and other entities are coincidental.

Master P is transported to a future of impossible brutality and hyperconsumption. He stumbles past biometric-gated flexible kiosks that refresh hundreds of time per second with images projected onto curving, warping screens and the scent of coin flooring rushes through his nostrils in great columns of stale air.

His eyes twinkle as he attempts to process his new surroundings, raising his early 20th Century cellular device to eye level, hoping for signal, registering glyphs inscrutable, lowering it and stowing it in an empty jacket pocket, stepping around a kiosk toward a thin cloud of steam that smells of offal and boiled water.

Flechettes explode through his lips and gums with a hiss, and through the steam three figures merge and separate as they hunch and shuffle, efficient, stripping his belongings and his likeness.