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806 B
JSON
1 line
806 B
JSON
"Come on in, make yourself at home. How the life of battle? No extra preternatural holes in your hide? Jolly good. No freaking use for them, eh? I’m in a bit of a tight unpleasant spot here. Will you help me out? My messenger vanished. Relied, dammit, on that local waste of skin, played so tough all the time. In short, I’ve sent a little note to the Therapist with some proposals for mutually beneficial cooperation. Nothing special, but nothing outsiders should know either. And so this meat sack is missing, and a little bird told me that the postman got whacked somewhere in the Factory. Why the heck would he go there, that moron? Told him to take the straight path. Well, find a body and check it, maybe my scribbles are still there. And if by some miracle they are, hand it to Ms. MD, will ya?" |