Session 18: Sewers, Ratguys, Overconfidence, Incompetent Hired Thugs, Pools of Acid, Statues That Shoot Fireballs, Nightshades, Insane Birds, Shadows of the Past, Doors That Won’t Open, Near-Empty Syringes, Triskian, Magic Portals, Waiting

General Summary

Safe house is right where Olden told us it would be. Dwarves, they are not even waiting for us to knock. As soon as we come close by, door opens and man steps out. He waves prisoners inside, gives us quick nod, then follows them in, closing door behind him. Not so much as thank you or goodbye! Assholes.
We sneak back to Practiced Lyre and up to rooms. We have been traveling at night, and it is still several hours until evil ball of fire is back in sky, so there is no one to see us come in. Skreek has to crawl in through window again, and is very much unhappy to be back in room. Ask me how I am knowing. He did stop with complaining just long enough to say that Ingoria’s friend, who likes to sit on roof and peek in windows, does not seem to be there now.
When we go downstairs later that morning, one of women who works in bar tells us breakfast is ready in private room. She shows us to space behind secret door in cellar, and there is waiting Olden and many delicious foods that are not mushrooms or travel rations. I am full of revolutionary zeal at sight of muffins. Dwarf cause is now my cause, if only they will feed me good breakfast foods.
Bermek sits down at table, ignoring delicious basked goods, and, in stuffy way he is always talking, says, “I hope everything went to your satisfaction.”
Olden is looking worried. “You were able to retrieve all the prisoners they were transporting?” When Baermek nods, Olden frowns. “Then the rest are dead. Or sent somewhere else, somewhere unknown to us.”
“I am sorry for the loss of your people,” Baermek responds quietly. “But these were the only prisoners present on the caravan. There were two others we initially took for prisoners, but they were imposters – kept in cages and treated just like the other prisoners in order to disguise their defenses. One of them was a Shadow Knight.”
“Definitely a trap, then.” Olden frowns. “They must be moving against us more directly now.” He pauses to give us once over, “But tell me, how were you lot able to handle a shadow knight?”
I do not think he needs to make idea sound quite so ridiculous as that. Baermek is not offended though. He smiles and says, “With some difficulty.”
Olden then asks many, many questions about Shadow Knights – do they cast spells? What kind? What kinds of weapons do they carry? That kind of thing. It seems to me like maybe he has heard of Shadow Knights, but not yet had pleasure of encountering one.
“We have fought against Sylvans on several occasions,” Baermek assures him. “And are familiar with many of their capabilities. In addition to this Shadow Knight, we have also vanquished one of their Sun Knights.”
He goes on to answer most of Olden’s questions, in much detail. This seems to me lots of valuable information he is giving away, but really, pumpkin muffins are particularly good.
“We know of at least one Shadow Knight who was in the Cauldron, and may still be here in the city. He would have shown up perhaps a year ago,” Baermek says.
“Well, that tracks,” Olden says thoughtfully. “Folks have been disappearing lately. First it was a few of the newer recruits, but recently, some of the higher ranking folks— like the ones you rescued — have started disappearing as well. We suspected Shadow Knights were at the root of it, but this seems to confirm it.”
Baermek nods. “Your compatriots were badly injured when we rescued them and their nights have been troubled. I fear they suffered much in their captivity. Their leader seemed quite wary of trusting his companions, or us.”
“Yeah, it’s tough knowing who to trust these days,” Olden says with shake of his head. “But you’ve done us a great service, my friends. I’m sorry to have sent you into a trap. Obviously, if I had known, I would have warned you.” He slides purse of money across table to Baermek, who takes it without counting of gold. “Is there anything we can do to assist you while you are in Yehlan?”
“We do have some questions.” Baermek nods head toward Skreek. “Our companion here, was shocked to see one of his people in league with the Sylvans.”
Olden looks surprised, too. “That is strange. There’ve been rumors that the winged folk have been unusually aggressive in defending their territorial waters lately – attacking fishing and trading vessels, that sort of thing. Sylvans are making a lot of noise about putting a stop to it. So, it’s hard to imagine them working together on anything.”
“Indeed,” Skreek says with deep frown. “But they are most certainly doing so.”
“A renegade, perhaps?” Olden asks.
Skreek considers this. “He appeared to be of a very high caste. It would be difficult to imagine someone of that caste going renegade.”
“They certainly weren’t treating him with much respect,” Baermek adds. “They appeared to be using him for little more than scouting runs and arrow fodder.”
Skreek smirks at that. “They ordered him around!” he says with glee.
“Well, that part, at least, certainly seems in character for them,” says Olden with shrug. “I really don’t know more than that, though. Anything else?”
Baermek leans back and smiles. “Well, now that we’ve had this opportunity to become better acquainted, perhaps we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement?” Olden gives small nod, settles back in his chair, and waves at Baermek to continue. “As you know, we sought passage to the island of the birds. You steered us toward the Gilded Dragon, and we were able to make arrangements there. We appreciate your assistance in the matter. But before we depart, we need to retrieve something that was stolen from our friend here, something that, thanks to the intelligence you provided, we believe to be in the possession of Dareth Triskian.”
Olden looks up with startled expression. “A raid? On Triskian?” he sputters in disbelief.
“A burglary,” Baermek smiles. “If all goes well. Perhaps, with a bit of assistance from you, this is possible.”
“That is a very secure part of the city,” Olden shakes his head. “I’m not sure we can be of much help. What’s the plan?”
“Well, they seem to be working with the Nightshades, a criminal organization we have some familiarity with.”
“Have you seen these Nightshades?” I lean forward to ask. “They wear black pajamas, and cover up their faces like this, and like to throw little metal stars covered in poison at people.” I pull out one of shuriken from other night and hand it over. He takes it with much caution, holding it lightly with just fingertips.
After studying it for little bit, he looks up at me thoughtfully, “Yeah, we’ve seen them. On raids, a few times. Don’t know much about them though.”
“We’re pretty sure the Sylvans have infiltrated their ranks, although to what degree we’re uncertain,” Baermek replies.
“And you think these Nightshades will be at Triskian’s?”
“Yes, we do, which means the job is going to be even more challenging. That is why we’re wondering if there is a way you could help us — without compromising the safety of your people, of course.”
Olden looks at Baermek and says with much wariness, “What is it exactly that you’re looking for here?”
“A distraction, perhaps? Some kind of diversion to tie up the city guard at a predetermined time?” But already it is obvious Olden is not too excited about this idea, so Baermek changes tactics. “And, information. Do you know anything about the sewers that run under that part of the city? They seem to be of Dwarven construction. Is there any possibility you could provide us with a map?”
“About this distraction idea, well, the Guards in the Winding are highly trained, well armored, and they have these… weapons, explosive weapons, that can strike people down at long range, and alert other guards.”
“We are aware of these weapons,” Grandfather says, wiping bit of lint from pant leg.
“I don’t think there’s any way to insure my people’s safety if we were to attempt what you are asking. I mean, maybe we could blow up a bridge or something like that, but I’m not sure how we’d manage to coordinate it.” He takes moment to pack his pipe before he continues. “However, the sewers, that I can help you with. There aren’t any maps that I know of, but one of my acquaintances is quite familiar with them, and I can introduce you. He’ll be able to give you a decent idea of how to get where you are going.” He fixes us with stare. “However, I really should warn you. We often use the sewers for transportation out here in the Mines, but we strictly avoid the ones under the city center. People who cross into that area, they tend not to come back. Not even the bodies.”
“But it is possible we could find an entrance to the estate down there?” Baermek presses.
“Possible? Sure. Risky as hell, though — I would seriously caution any of my people against trying it. But I’d tell them to avoid tangling with a Shadow Knight too, so...” He shrugs and gives us another long once over. “I’m willing to help with transportation, too — get you to and from the entry point, and provide a safehouse while you are waiting for your ride to the island.”
“That would be most appreciated,” Baermek smiles and takes sip of coffee. Too bad for him, all of muffins are gone. Maybe if he used shorter words, he would have more time for eating.

********

Fishing boat pulls up at sewer entrance we have determined would be best. It is not so big as ones Skreek saw from air, maybe only twenty feet across or so. There is metal grate fixed to outside, but Grandfather is able to very quickly make us passage through, using magic dust we found in Mage Academy at Thanedell. We have to use lots, to make opening large enough to fit Skreek’s big, stupid wings, but we can’t leave him behind. Who else would bad guys shoot at?
I have already been telling you how I am feeling about sewers. Only reason I am doing this is because I cannot think of other way to get into Triskian’s estate without being eaten by shadow dogs. Sewers or dogs? Sewers or dogs? This is how you know your life is on very much bad track, when these are choices you are forced to make.
Smell is just as terrible as last time. Only one thing is slight improvement, and that is that there are walkways in this sewer, so we are not wading through shit. I am thinking very positive thoughts right now about dwarves, and their dedicated investment in public infrastructure. Never have I had so many warm feelings about dwarves in one day.
We walk for little bit, then everyone stops to watch as bloated corpse floats by. “What do you think is chance,” I ask, “that one of us ends up in muck down there, before we get to Triskian’s house?” Nobody is willing to discuss odds, because I think we all know it will be happening, and everyone is hoping it is not them who will be splashing around in poop waters.
It is not too long after that, that we run into little problem, and problem is ratmen. Men who look like rats. Or maybe rats who look like men. It is not mattering. Either way, they look like they want to kill us.
Skreek is first to see one. Rest of us only notice when he has put three arrows in its chest and it falls into water with loud splash. Another one comes up behind Grandfather and grabs him in big hug. Grandfather struggles to escape, but he is totally feeble. Ratman pitches itself backward into water, taking old man with him. Boris jumps in water after them.
I am not laughing. On outside, at least.
Rats manage to bite Ingoria and Baermek, which cannot be good. Who knows what kind of disease they may have. Skreek gets big chomp too, and goes unconscious as usual. I run up and kill ratman, then kick body off into water.
Grandfather manages to climb out of water without new friend, but Boris does not come out. Not sure what has happened down there in muck. No time to ask though. We kill off most of ratmen, but one escapes into water, which is never good thing.
Skreek is making lots of noise because his sword has fallen into water, and he does not want to go in after it. He tries to convince Grandfather to fetch it because already Grandfather is covered in shit, but no, of course that is not happening. So, with much whining and complaining, Skreek dives into water. He is gone only few seconds before he explodes out of water, sword in hand, wings spraying shit everywhere. Really, I am very glad I was not near there. When I kill Skreek, I would like it to be for better reason than that.
Grandfather tells us that Boris was able to pull ratman off of him, but both Boris and ratmen were swallowed by, I don’t know, description was confusing. Some kind of angry jelly monster? I don’t know. Anyhow, I guess jelly monster ate Boris, so Baermek shoots monster with spell from walkway until it dies. Skreek is still crying and trying to clean feathers, and Grandfather just gives him look of scorn, calls him pussy, and jumps back in to retrieve parts so he can rebuild Boris.
We decide to take little rest before continuing on into sewer. There is much time before we are planning on entering house, so no need to hurry. We discuss maybe having Skreek do his rope trick, but it does not seem like it is necessary. What are chances, after all, that rat will come back with all his friends?
Of course, every time we are asking ourselves question like this, answer is 100%. There is 100% chance bad guys will be jumping out at us. So how is it that we are surprised when six more ratmen are jumping out at us? Um, answer is that we’re dumb. (I am confused. Was this trick question?)
Six more ratmen, and one who is acting like leader wears goofy little hat (which is questionable fashion choice, even for ratman who lives in sewer.) We are already hurt and bit and everything, but we kill all of them, and nobody falls into water this time.
And yes, this is current definition of winning for us — lots of death and nobody ends up literally swimming in shit.
Go Team Asshole.

********

Ingoria and I are scouting ahead when we come to large room from which there is no exit. There is nothing that shines out as magic when she uses wand, just bunch of crates of crap, and couple of rooms with closed doors.
We go back for rest of group. When everyone is together, we open door of first room. Inside we find little guy reading book. He jumps up all surprised and says “Are you with them? The rat people?”
We tell him no we are not rat people and ask who he is. He says his name is Jeremiah and that rat people took him prisoner and make him cook and clean for them here in sewer. Jeremiah must be some kind of idiot to think we are believing this. Nobody would leave maid alive who did such bad job at cleaning as we see around us. I doubt he is good cook either.
I am just about to hit him with stick to make him tell truth, when Grandfather is beating me to it. He slices Jeremiah with knife, or tries to, but knife just slides off skin. Huh. Weird. Must be ratman thing, I guess. Jeremiah breaks down and admits he was ratman who got away, and we tell him all his friends are dead, so he better help us.
He cries and fusses for little bit, then tells us his gang was called “The Wharf Rats.” Too bad they were not smart enough to stay away from group of well-armed psychos tromping through sewers on mission. Apparently, Triskian paid these assholes to keep sewers clear of intruders, but whatever was wages, they were not enough. I make sure to mention this to Jeremiah, because sometimes you just have to kick man when he is down, to make sure he does not get back up again.
Jeremiah blubbers that he cannot be helping us because “man who is behind that door” will kill him if he helps us. We say “Boohoo, this is sad story. We will kill you right now if you do not tell us where door is.” “Why should I trust you?” he demands, and we say “You have choice?”
He tells us where door is.
It is not yet time to go into house; we want it to be very late at night. So, we take time to look in other room. It was rat in hat’s room I guess – there is nicer bed, better booze, that kind of stuff. There is also footlocker with tricky lock on it. Ingoria and I both are failing at opening it, so we decide to throw it in bag, and deal with it later.
We ask Jeremiah some more questions. Has Triskian been alerted to our presence? No. How often do people come through here? Not often. Is there any kind of check-in that you have to make? No.
Then we all have little conversation with eyes, but no words. Upshot is, Jermiah definitely was right to not be trusting us. Do not feel bad for him, though. All his friends are dead, and, what is more, I have read same book he was reading, and I am telling you, ending was terrible. He is happier this way. Trust me.

********

Door is hidden in corner of room. It is not magic, just very carefully made. Ingoria is able to find it easily though, once we know where to look. She even finds little trap that they have set, and disarms it. I wonder where it is she learned such skills. Skreek uses scroll to locate object and tell us his locket is up and to left. Spell with only last ten minutes, so we must hurry.
Door opens into small room with wardrobe. Inside wardrobe is bugout bag. This is interesting. Triskian does not feel so secure in his home, if he has taken precautions like this. There is also ladder up.
We climb ladder and enter stone passageway. It is damp and little bit chilly, with spots of moss growing here and there on walls. We are all doing best to keep silent (some of us better than others of us), but there are no guards or other signs of life that we can see.
Passageway opens out into room and we are seeing ahead of us that there is large pool of liquid filling up most of space. It gives off strange smell. Grandfather throws up some dancing lights, and now we can see that liquid is slightly green and completely still. He sends Boris down to inspect liquid and there is no effect, but when Grandfather goes to take sample, it fizzes and steams in way that makes us very certain we do not want it touching our skin.
In four corners of room stand statues that are reminding us of statue we saw in public porter room at Thanedell — one that had no face or other details. These ones are also mostly without any expression, except for mouths. They have mouths that are very wide open, which is seriously creepy as shit. Ingoria looks for some kind of lever or other device to help us get through room, but finds nothing.
We are confused. We know that they do pass through here occasionally, going both ways. How do they cross suspicious room? Then it occurs to us – Sylvans can all teleport. Goddamn, they are bunch of assholes. We look at each other and back at room. Ok, we will do this hard way. Shit… it is going to hurt very much.
Ingoria is cat, which means she is very good at climbing. There is maybe six feet of space above heads of statues, so we send her to climb along wall above them. This goes great until she reaches about halfway point and suddenly great balls of flame roll out from open mouths of statues. Air is filled with sound of cat yowling and scent of burning fur. She manages to hold on through flames, then creeps rest of way across room, landing on other side, somewhat crispy and very annoyed. She checks other side for switches, just to make sure, but there is nothing.
Grandfather gets great idea to try to knock over statues. He gets out tools and starts hammering away on first statue. Surprisingly it works. He knocks statue over face first down into acid. Then second one lands mostly on top of it, just slightly below surface of acid. This is great and all – less flames to burn us up is definitely good thing – but now what?
Ok, ok, ok. So, you have been reading journal for months now, pages and pages of things we have done, right? And have I lied? I mean about important stuff. No! I have been what Skreek calls “straight shooter” with you. These are all things which have really happened. So you have to believe me when I tell you next bit.
Grandfather backs up, way way back down hall, and comes sprinting toward pool of acid, just like time he caught me… never mind. That is story for other time. Anyway, he runs out onto statue without slowing down at all, then launches himself through air. As he hits midpoint, flames erupt all around him. Seriously, coat and hair streaming behind him, flying through air, disappearing into wall of flame. I cannot lie, it is completely badass. I don’t even care if you tell him I am saying this.
It is not until flames die back down that we can see he has landed on other side with only minor burns on clothes (but already, his clothes have many burns on them from work he is doing, so you cannot even really tell). He stands up from crouch, dusting himself off like it was big nothing. My heart, it is filled suddenly with great burst of pride that I am his granddaughter, that I am of Belovs. His eyes meet mine across acid, and we both of us smile. Then he calls out, “Are you needing me to come back and carry you across like little princess? Move your ass Granddaughter, there is shit to do.”
And that concludes little moment I was having there of Belov pride. It is relief, really, not to feel such stupid feeling anymore.
Grandfather tries to knock over statues on far side of room, but they are more stubborn than first two. So, I make same trip Ingoria did, but with slightly less scorching, since only two statues are now shooting fire. Baermek has to make leap across like Grandfather, and manages to do it, with maybe not so much style, but not very much damage. Skreek flaps across at high speed, and is also mostly unhurt.
I do not know if people in house have heard all of this banging on stone, and whooshing of flame jets, and screams of agony, but nobody has shown up to investigate, so I am guessing, no. We continue down passage, up some stairs, and finally climb ladder up into house larder. Ingoria and I move into house, scouting ahead, while others follow little ways behind. We pass through kitchen and dining room with no sign of anything. Then we creep down hallway toward where tower should be. At last minute, we notice there is guard sitting on little balcony overlooking front entryway, but we are able to slip past without him seeing us. And we are in tower.
Room we have entered looks like maybe some kind of meeting space. There are cubbies and storage around walls, big table in middle covered in documents, heads of animals on walls, and metal door that looks like it leads outside. Only thing of interest is papers, and we sweep them all into bag without even looking. We can sort out what is important later, when there is not possible Shadow Knight waiting to jump out at us. There is also in this room, stairs which are going up, and stairs which are going down. We know from Skreek’s spell that locket is up, so up we go.
Second floor is training room. Nightshade training room. How am I knowing it is Nightshade? Because ridiculous assholes have rug that looks like nightshade flower and pillows with five sides and everything. There are cabinets full of weapons and a training dummy that is still all bloody, which is just gross. On walls are several portraits showing groups of students. They are mostly humans, wearing Nightshade pajamas, but faces are uncovered. In each one there is Sylvan man, same Sylvan man. Over and over. (I think we can both guess who this is being.)
On wall, opposite of portraits, there is hanging three lockets. Well, this is convenient, but also suspicious. We were thinking we might have to use last Locate Object scroll to find where they had hidden Skreek’s locket. But there it is… well, probably. I am sure it must be one of three. There is no added security, no sign of traps, nothing. They are just hanging on wall in training room. Why are they in training room? What are they using them for?
It does not matter. We grab all three lockets and run back downstairs to show Skreek. His eyes open in horror when he sees them. One of lockets he does not recognize. One is his that we are here to retrieve. And…
“This one… this one belongs to my brother,” he says in quiet voice.
Brother? Brother who he says is leader? What do lockets mean to bird people? What do they mean to Sylvans?
I turn away from look that is on his face. I do not think now that we will leave this place without spilling of blood. Do not get me wrong — it is not that I mind spilling blood, of course, but stealth is very much working for us right now, and maybe it is best to get away with locket, without stirring up nest of hornets. But, with Skreek giving this look, “best” is maybe not really option anymore. Now, I think we are looking at something like total shitshow.
So, totally normal day for us, then.
My eyes glance down hallway, and I notice there is weird shadow on floor. It looks… familiar. Ingoria had mentioned something…
I take one step, then two. Just little bit closer, so that I can see…
“Ya pokroyus’ krov’yu*,” I whisper.
It is like shape that Aleorman carved into my back. Not perfectly same. I have spent much time studying back in mirror, and I know this is not same, but it is too close to be coincidence.
I turn around and take few steps back to group. I stand in front of Skreek, who looks down at me, saying nothing, just breathing heavily.
“We kill them all,” I growl.
He says nothing, just nods.

********.

And that is what we do. We search house from top to bottom, killing everyone we find. Cooks, servants, guards, does not matter. We think we know which room it is that is Triskian’s, and leave it for last. We take gold and gems and any papers and ledgers that we can find.
There is one room into which we can not get. Door is stained glass of geometric images, most of them with five sides like nightshades. Door is locked and trapped; Ingoria gets poison needle when she tries to open. I also cannot open, so we must leave it for later.
Then there is only one place left to look, before we kill Triskian. We all of us cross house back to tower and go down stairs this time. Again, Ingoria and I are scouting ahead. At bottom of stairs is some kind of workshop or laboratory, and two short tunnels lead away. Down one tunnel is room that looks like vault. Inside is table on which is more laboratory equipment and desk with chair. Also there are three chests. One has more gold. One has bunch of gems. And one is impossible to unlock, so we throw it in satchel with everything else.
Down other tunnel is…
I run back to where others are waiting, and grab Skreek.
“You need to be seeing this,” I say under my breath, ignoring others who are looking at me with questions.
I lead him back down tunnel to where Ingoria is just unlocking door. He steps in and walks over to where is bed covered in blood. He stares down at blood for moment, then squats down and picks something up off of floor. When he stands back up, I can see it is what I was afraid of — long feather, with color that is like Skreek’s.
Fuck.
He stands there for moment longer, back to us, then turns. Something catches his eye, and he gives me quick glance. I can not read expression, but he swipes something off table quickly, then comes toward us.
“Let others know what it is we have found,” I say under my breath to Ingoria. Her eyes dart over to Skreek, then back to me, worried. But she does not say anything, just turns and runs back down hall to where others still wait.
“Skreek…Skreek, you ok?” I try to turn him to look at me, but he will not look. He reaches down and takes my hand, slipping something to me, before walking back down hallway.
I look down at my hand and see two syringes, mostly empty. Liquid that is staining bottom of them, though, is red. I can barely breathe. I have been too busy to be feeling withdrawal symptoms for last few hours, but they are there. It is almost dawn, and symptoms are sinking sharp teeth into me now.
But there is another thing – it is small vial filled with blue powder. I do not know what it is, this blue powder, but it is looking very much like stuff that Aleorman was mixing into Glow before he would inject it into me. I look down at vial and syringes for moment, then back at cell. I am not only one who they have been trying this on. Me and Skreek’s brother. We have nothing in common. Why would they be doing this to both of us? What do they hope to achieve?
“Granddaughter?” voice comes down hallway. I fumble to hide away syringes.
“Coming,” I call out, feelings all snarled up and crazy. I want to find place to hide, where I can crack open syringe and tip out remaining drops into my mouth. But, if I can not do that right now, if I must be waiting until I am alone, then I will go and beat man… no, not man… Sylvan… to death, and that will have to be distraction from terrible wanting that is filling up my mind.

********

And finally we are all here, standing outside room that must be Triskian’s.
All of us are ready for big fight. We hold tight to our weapons and take deep breath as Ingoria picks locks. We throw doors open, but Triskian is waiting for us. He flings out spell that wraps around Skreek and Ingoria and holds them unable to move. I am able to resist, and run toward him, hitting him as hard as I can. It is good solid thwack, but then he turns to me and all I see is very bright white light, and then Baermek is once again waking me up from little mid-battle snooze.
While I was out, battle has moved! I run into hall and out to where it overlooks entry way, calling on magic of new tattoos as I go. I can see him running toward door and scream out warning to others that he is getting away. Then I jump over balcony and chase him out door, along with Baermek and Skreek.
We all hit him as he runs, with arrows and spells and shadowy fists. He is weaving and staggering, and I am sure he will fall. But, at last minute, asshole reaches out hand and makes magic portal right in front of him. He runs through it and disappears.
We are all frantically looking around, but there is no sign of him, and we know that shadow dogs and nightshade fuckers must be on their way. Baermek yells at us to head back into house. Skreek and I share look of rage and frustration, but follow him in, heading toward passageway leading to sewers.
Behind us though, we are leaving fires, fires in every room. Skreek uses necklace with little balls on it that hold fireball spell, throwing them where it looks like there is most stuff that will burn.
Triskian may have gotten away from us, but we will burn down his house, his training room, his prison cell. And no, of course that is not being enough to make Skreek go back to acting at least little bit like sane person, and definitely it is not enough to make up for thing that is carved into my back, but it is all we have right now. Fire and promise – promise he will die in most horrible way we can imagine.
And, of course, there is also pair of syringes that I can feel in my pocket, tapping gently against my leg with every step as I run.

---

*I will cover myself in blood.

Report Date

19 Oct 2022