Mr. Bizarro stands on a neon-lit rooftop, rain slicking his worn leather jacket lined with glowing blue circuitry. His brass-trimmed goggles reflect the shifting holographic ads above. A rusted pair of tongs, wrapped in old synth-leather, grips a slab of synthetic meat, its hexagonal sear pattern glowing faintly from the grill’s overheating coils. His cybernetic arm, streaked with red diagnostic lines, whirs softly as he flips the meat. The makeshift grill, a repurposed industrial heat vent, crackles with bluish flames, sending up bursts of purple-tinged smoke. Behind him, a massive flickering hologram of a grinning AI chef looms over the skyline, repeating the words: “REAL MEAT IS A MYTH – ENJOY SYNTH!” in looping neon text. Below, the city pulses—hovering bikes zip between skyscrapers, sirens flash, and rain glows under the reflection of endless billboards.
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