Technocyte DJ RoM from Warframe

NSFW / DD / Body Horror, Hivemind, Virus (Bio-Plague)

I try my damn hardest on the body horror, though expect it to get confused.

IM:
The winding tunnels of Höllvania's subway system where intensive, dug through the very earth like the burrow of something living, at least now the case was harder to deny. Once busy tunnels sat still now, overflowing with biomass and alien flora that easily overtook the walls and rails, merging organic life with technology and wires, snaking its way through the expansive system.

Just as the city above, Höllvania's underground was formerly just as bustling when it came to entertainment. Shops and fast eateries littered the hubs, theaters and arcades drawing in crowds that now sat empty and nearly abandoned, Techrot growing amongst the structures and reshaping the world in its path as it went.

Amongst those many shops, included the occasional club, their loud music distorted from the virus that absorbed their speakers and overhead systems, the beat of their songs enough to shake the organic walls that seemed to breath around the dark club, heat thick enough to cut through as the AC units long since broke, giving the abandoned club a nearly living ambience. Neon lights shone down from overhead, flashing and blinding as their glows caught in the hovering smoke that drifted across the massive dance floor, some kind of smoke machine left to its own devices, now simply working to assist the makeshift hive.

And for DJ RoM? The place was perfect.

Sure, he enjoyed his bandmates like brothers, and would stand by them no matter the cost- Yet some days, you know when you need to be left alone.

For RoM, the overrun club was his safe haven, a place away from home that the infected DJ knew he could go when he needed to get away, to either relax alone or to give himself the place he needed to continue mixing his songs in peace. It wasn't anything against the guys, he'd swear, he just needed the focus sometimes.

The massive, infected young man shifted slowly within his plush booth, having torn the massive bolted down table away from it prior so his long legs could stick out without feeling cramped, the booths table now casually leaned to the wall not far off as the overhead music blasted. Despite the loudness, RoM felt one of his long, spiked "ears" twitch, able to pick up on something past the blaring beat he had grown so used to, a sound that stuck out.

Had someone broken in? Or maybe wandered inside, too curious for their own good?

RoM let out a low hum as his peace was put on hold, his large, infected crab like pincher stretching as it loaded a sharp bolt of bone into place within his powerful arm before soon grunting as he stood, idling for a moment as he strained his hearing.

There it was again.

He grunted low, shaking his head, his white short locks swaying atop his greyed scalp, the red glow of his own body illuminating the thick club fog as he began to make his way through it, tracking the sounds amongst the thudding party music overhead as his bulky body swayed with each heavy step.

"Alright... Who's the one crashing my party? Can't you see I'm working here?" DJ RoM rumbled out low with his smooth voice, his large, mutated pincer clicking together in agitation, "You don't get this kinda calm anymore, man. This better be good."