- Joined
- May 19, 2012
- Messages
- 1,296
- Reaction score
- 2
#
#
The streets of Statablock 7 were filled, but hardly alive. The rain had ceased, leaving dirtied puddles filled with ashen cigarette butts and accumulated filth. A man hurriedly trampled them, his chest heaving in and out, stumbling down the street. Hazy sounds and indistinct music hummed down the street, neon lights illuminating a bar just ahead. Shadowy silhouettes lurked about, yet the man paid them no heed.
Veins bulged at at the man's forehead, sweat glistening his skin. The man's feet snagged an object about the ground, and he collapsed into a puddle with a splash. He lay there in the puddle, his eyes rolling back into their sockets. And he let out an agonizing scream.
Yet the time to help him was too late. He convulsed there, in a mixture of old urine and rainwater, foam bubbling at his mouth. Gasps gripped his throat, suffocating him until he was completely still, with nothing but a syringe still barbarically protruding from his back, and a missive written on his bare arm. It was there, slashed into his skin in blocked, scrawled letters. They glowed crimson in the neon lights, clear as night.
AZAZEL
Last edited: