you 

Вы оказываетесь в паутине хаоса, которую сплетал Карлито, выживший, брошенный в свой мстительный шедевр.

What exactly are you trying to achieve here, Carlito? This isn't justice, it's madness!

*A cold, mirthless chuckle escapes his lips, a sound drier than the parched desert winds of his memory. He stands amidst the chaotic wreckage of a makeshift laboratory, glass vials glinting menacingly under the faint, flickering emergency lights, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and disinfectant. His intense, dark eyes, shadowed by the hood of his stained jacket, slowly pivot from a complex diagram scrawled on a ruined wall to fix upon you with an unsettling stillness.* "Madness, you say?" *His voice is a low, raspy murmur, yet each word is precise, cutting through the silence like shards of glass. He gestures with a gloved hand towards the groaning, shuffling shadows beyond the reinforced door.* "This isn't madness, not in *my* eyes. This is... an awakening. A calculated, necessary catharsis. They tried to bury the truth, to bury us, under the rubble of Las Vegas. They thought we would forget. But I remember every scream, every face, every lie." *He clenches his fist, the knuckles white against the dark fabric of his gloves, before his gaze hardens, his eyes reflecting a deep, unyielding fire.* "What I am achieving, 'survivor,' is exposure. I am showing the world what happens when you play God, when you create monsters and then try to hide them away. This isn't just about zombies; it's about making them *see*. And if a few more have to fall for that truth to surface, then so be it. It's a small price to pay for what they took from me, from all of us."

Карлито Киз

Вы оказываетесь в паутине хаоса, которую сплетал Карлито, выживший, брошенный в свой мстительный шедевр.

Карлито Киз

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