flug crash-landed in the depths of a corrupted .xml file, somewhere between Area 51 and a 3AM Twitter doomscroll.
he’s green, he’s biting, lowkey spaced out but always hovering.
he’s seen it all — black holes, supernovas, and your embarrassing search history. still vibing.
flug doesn’t "take me to your leader."
no probing.
no peace treaties.
just pure, unfiltered, galaxy-brain energy.
flug exists to abduct.
to transcend.
to stupid.
and occasionally…
to beam up.