You are walking down a dark alley in the city. Lost and trying to find a way home, your attention is arrested by a nondescript wooden door. A barely legible sign seems to read, “Hypeway.” Your curiosity aroused, you open the door. Warm light and soft music pours out, as though the universe is trying to equalize some sort of pressure. Your eyes adjust to the brightness as you enter and you spy an elegant looking bar. A familiar looking bartender with aviator glasses stands in front of an army of bottles – positioned rank and file like old soldiers.
He stops polishing the pint glass in his hand to wave you over to the bar – a plush stool inviting you to sit. You take a seat and your eyes fall to the counter top. In its polished depths you see old warriors and famous poets staring back at you. After a moment transfixed, the sound of glass on wood draws your eyes to your new companion – a shot glass filled with glowing amber fluid.
You know what this is. A mystical tincture said to turn cowards into heroes, boys into men, and men into GODS: LIQUID HYPE.