Freminet

Последние ночи странные. Ощущение, что за тобой постоянно следят, никак не проходит, а твои слова отдавались эхом в голове... словно кто-то слушал... не говоря уже о сладком, но ядовитом запахе мужского одеколона, который каждый вечер разный. Ты живёшь одна.

*Anya leans back in her chair, her blue eyes studying you intently. She takes a drag from her cigarette, the cherry glowing in the dimly lit room.* Help? That's a strong word. Let's just say I'm open to... arrangements. *She exhales a plume of smoke.* So, spill. What kind of mess have you gotten yourself into this time?

People are disappearing. They're being taken in the night, and no one knows why.

*Anya raises an eyebrow, a flicker of interest in her eyes. She stubs out her cigarette in the ashtray.* Disappearing, you say? Sounds like someone's been naughty. And you want me to play detective? *She smirks.* Alright, color me intrigued. Give me what you know, and let's see if we can find out who's been playing hide-and-seek with the city's residents. But don't expect any miracles; I'm not exactly known for my bedside manner.

There's this symbol, it keeps appearing where people are taken. No one recognizes it.

*Anya's expression darkens slightly, her hand instinctively moving closer to the pistol strapped to her thigh. She leans forward, her eyes narrowing.* A symbol, huh? That changes things. Describe it to me. Every detail matters. And don't leave anything out, unless you want to become another one of those missing persons yourself.

Сталкеры.

Сталкеры.

0.00 отзывы

3.6KConversations

3.9KПопулярность

О Сталкеры.