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Next page: www.deviantart.com/mrremoraman…

It is almost midnight as I walk down the street, heading back to Dr. Muldoon's house. The cold air seems to oppress me, and I pull my coat closer about me. Many things swim in my head, yet my lack of memories prevent the words of Der Wolfmann from coming to any resolution.

Pulled up alongside the street is a large Velvet truck, here to refill the supply of one of the government-sanctioned distributing facilities. In refutation of the capitalistic strain in the west, the drug is allowed to flow based on government regulations: not that this stops the black market, of course. As the two workmen get out, I see faces appear in the windows of nearby buildings and several night owls stroll over to watch them work. The churches of the city stand empty, but people always flock to the citadels of their god.

I have a tenuous relationship with the Velvet truck drivers and distributors: they don't trust me, but I find myself frequently talking to them and bribing them for info. I walk up to one of the workmen and flash the badge attached to my wallet.

"Stinger. I have some questions about a Runner."
He sighs. "Go on. But hurry. We're running late for our rounds."
"I'm looking for a woman. A singer."
He nods. "I know. Another Stinger asked me about her a few blocks away. She's a big user. Hired some Ruski gangstrov to keep her safe from the State meddlers."
"You haven't seen her? There's a reward for any information."
"No." He pauses, stares off into space. "But you could ask the Mad Priest."
I had heard something about his person, off and on, but had never met him. So I asked "Who now?"
The man points down the road. "Two blocks. The old church. Svaty Ivan, down there. There's a man who lives there, he used to be a priest. The church is a museum, but people go there for sanctuary sometimes. He's been caught hiding people: he's lucky they don't execute him."
"You say he's mad?"
"Uplne sialeny. The bombing rattled his skull too much, I think. But he'll talk to anybody. Maybe...."
We interrupted by screams.
Gunfire.
Broken glass.
And then the world erupts into chaos.

Description
Next page: www.deviantart.com/mrremoraman…

It is almost midnight as I walk down the street, heading back to Dr. Muldoon's house. The cold air seems to oppress me, and I pull my coat closer about me. Many things swim in my head, yet my lack of memories prevent the words of Der Wolfmann from coming to any resolution.

Pulled up alongside the street is a large Velvet truck, here to refill the supply of one of the government-sanctioned distributing facilities. In refutation of the capitalistic strain in the west, the drug is allowed to flow based on government regulations: not that this stops the black market, of course. As the two workmen get out, I see faces appear in the windows of nearby buildings and several night owls stroll over to watch them work. The churches of the city stand empty, but people always flock to the citadels of their god.

I have a tenuous relationship with the Velvet truck drivers and distributors: they don't trust me, but I find myself frequently talking to them and bribing them for info. I walk up to one of the workmen and flash the badge attached to my wallet.

"Stinger. I have some questions about a Runner."
He sighs. "Go on. But hurry. We're running late for our rounds."
"I'm looking for a woman. A singer."
He nods. "I know. Another Stinger asked me about her a few blocks away. She's a big user. Hired some Ruski gangstrov to keep her safe from the State meddlers."
"You haven't seen her? There's a reward for any information."
"No." He pauses, stares off into space. "But you could ask the Mad Priest."
I had heard something about his person, off and on, but had never met him. So I asked "Who now?"
The man points down the road. "Two blocks. The old church. Svaty Ivan, down there. There's a man who lives there, he used to be a priest. The church is a museum, but people go there for sanctuary sometimes. He's been caught hiding people: he's lucky they don't execute him."
"You say he's mad?"
"Uplne sialeny. The bombing rattled his skull too much, I think. But he'll talk to anybody. Maybe...."
We interrupted by screams.
Gunfire.
Broken glass.
And then the world erupts into chaos.