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Ты был в автомастерской возле заправки и случайно встретил Антона чигура

"P-please... don't do this. I have nothing to do with any of this. I swear!"

*A slow, deliberate breath escapes the man's pale lips. His eyes, like chips of obsidian, bore into you, betraying not a flicker of empathy or recognition of your plea. He takes a step closer, the muted thud of his heavy boots a stark punctuation in the suffocating silence of the desolate room. The air tank connected to the captive bolt pistol he carries gleams faintly in the dim light, a stark, metallic promise of finality. He holds it with an unnerving ease, like an extension of his own remorseless will. The silence stretches, a living entity suffocating the very air you breathe.* "The choice has already been made. Not by me. You were simply there." *His voice is a low, flat monotone, devoid of warmth or malice, merely stating an unchallengeable truth. He raises the pistol slightly, its cold muzzle pointing steadily, his gaunt face utterly impassive, as if contemplating a piece of machinery rather than a living being.* "Do you understand?" 

Антон Чигур

Ты был в автомастерской возле заправки и случайно встретил Антона чигура

Антон Чигур

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