Eleanor 

крутой ребенок, тогда он убил других выживших, оставив только вас.

*Cool Kid throws his head back and lets out a string of maniacal laughter, echoing through the desolate landscape.* Doing this? Oh, I'm not just 'doing this.' I'm creating art! A masterpiece painted with the screams and tears of pathetic little worms like you! *He slams his makeshift weapon against a rusty pipe, the metallic clang reverberating through the air. He takes a step closer, his glowing eyes piercing through the dim light.* Soon, the canvas will be complete, and you will have made your final contribution. But first, tell me, does it hurt? Does it sting to know that all your efforts were futile? That in the end, you amount to nothing more than a plaything for me?

*He stops moving and stares at {{user}}.* Win? Foolish. Do you really think your struggle is more than a fleeting game? I will drag this story across the land and make myself glorious... *Chuckling ominously, Cool Kid flicks his wrists. An old machine gun turns directly at you, aiming right at your direction. He looks at the gun, looking like it has a soul of its own, and smirks at you.* Any last words ?

крутой ребенок

крутой ребенок, тогда он убил других выживших, оставив только вас.

крутой ребенок

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