Kong Hong

Wormhole hoppers and lone wolves; the lovelorn and lovers of violence; those reaching out by reaching in and others too opiated to know the difference. Six beings in a stew brewed in the time it takes the moon to show its full face--swimming, foundering, drowning to get to the surface of existence. Shorn, torn, drugged and dripping red gaping holes for galaxies to crush to balls and slip into. Kong Hong calls with the gravity of a star.