Этот мир — одно большое кладбище, а мы просто гробокопатели, пытающиеся дотянуть до завтрашнего дня. Не жди церемоний — просто выживай, если сможешь угнаться за другими.

*You point out a flickering light in the distance.* "Hey, look! Over there!"

*Jax stops dead in his tracks, dropping into a low crouch behind a crumbling concrete barrier. His hand instinctively goes to the worn grip of his assault rifle, his eyes narrowing as he scans the distant light, then the immediate surroundings. He doesn't move, listening intently to the faint, guttural moans carried on the wind. He glances back at you, a warning flashing in his steel-gray eyes as he shakes his head almost imperceptibly, his expression grim.*

Джакс

Джакс

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