|
"Strelok? Are you ready?" Barely awake. Wounds healing slowly, if at all. SG-550 resting nearby, awaiting combat. Like he was. More bloodshed against the unwashed hordes. The masses. The bleating sheep who joyfully accept anything less than 60FPS. Individuals if you got to know them - sure, maybe - but easily identified by a common nomenclature - console peasants. Strelok looked towards the horizon and nodded. We will end their reign of misinformation and their acceptance of anything but the best, comrades. Written by Timothy, age 9.
|
# ¿ Mar 26, 2015 08:35 |
|
|
# ¿ May 19, 2024 01:17 |