It is in a city, with no name; past many dark and faceless buildings; beyond the notice of shivering peregrinations; ducked through tattered and graying curtains; around any unknown corner of this stone arcade… It is the Corridor. There are many nondescript doors. Each door is numbered and each lock opens not, but for one key. This is your key. Any of these doors may open into a world that has been created, or is being created. Your journey into these worlds may be long or short, but each world has its’ function and purpose…
My name is the Parasyte, this is my corridor, but these are your worlds…
My name is the Parasyte, this is my corridor, but these are your worlds…