Bad Trip Club
The darkest stories rarely begin with monsters. They begin with silent choices - small, bureaucratic, almost harmless. A signature. A mission. An agent dispatched. That's how Planck's fall began.
He was no hero, no martyr, no seeker of glory. Just a precise cog in an invisible machine that operates in the shadows - observing, infiltrating, erasing threats before anyone ever notices they existed. A man trained to walk between worlds without leaving a trace.
Then Ultra-K appeared.
Another designer drug, they said. Another fleeting trend for the bored, the reckless, the rich. Until the reports surfaced: violent psychotic breaks, irreversible memory fractures, whole days missing... and people vanishing without a single clue, as if they'd slipped out of reality itself.
Small signs began to converge. Clues forming a pattern. A path. All of them pointing to one place: a colossal desert festival where music, delirium, and blinding light fused into something dangerously seductive.
Planck's mission was simple: find the source.
But nothing could have prepared him for what awaited inside - the moment a stranger tapped his shoulder and his mind caved in, the instant Ultra-K hit his bloodstream and tore his world apart from the inside.
What you're about to read are the last surviving shards of his journey: distorted memories, fractured testimonies, and perceptions that blur the line between the rational and the impossible. We don't know where reality ends and hallucination begins - perhaps they coexist, perhaps the boundary has already dissolved.
BAD TRIP CLUB is the chronicle of a descent.
Slow. Deep. Irreversible.
Turn the first page...
and you'll go down with him.
And like Planck -
you may not come back.
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