60

Location : Old City

Location: street of the Third Highest, 9. Occulatory.

Time : Thursday, 25:03

Darkness, sometimes torn apart by heart-rending screams and a dull thud of something on the floor. Rib pain, back pain, knee pain. Bitterness in the mouth. Bad concomitant circumstances to switch off after a very long day.

Fragmentary visions.

A flash of red, turning into red long hair and a raspberry scent. No, it flashed through my head, the laser flash smelled like ozone or burnt plastic. Long laser needle. It's strange that Shostak, with his amount of shit, didn't explode. It can be said that this way the “owners” would receive the blood due to them. Dark. Old josers singing obscene songs are "enlightened" and not. Hive Arbethu. Exactly they are. Fog, darkness. The “owners” standing around, discussing something with clicking sounds, while Timon Shostak, a philanthropist and scum, is trying to shout to them. Scattering their own guts, reeking of burnt meat. And getting more and more hit
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