Jolted from hypnagogic slumber by the Leviptron’s abrupt arrival at Golgotha Sestri, Gogol Piatti stands up unsteadily, brushing away the multi-logo’ed addroids that have attached themselves to his clothing while he dozed. They disperse in pale clouds of pixel-dust, coming to rest like dandruff on the shoulders of a heavily armed woman engrossed in applying layers of deception to her face with a small brush and palette knife loaded with multi-purpose silica.
The breaking news banner above the exit insists that the situation is under control (a fact that Gogol finds hard to believe given the contrary evidence offered up by the sound of gunfire echoing through his titanium filling)
They hadn’t said what they wanted him for but he’s thinking it’s going to be a long and potentially messy week.
The breaking news banner above the exit insists that the situation is under control (a fact that Gogol finds hard to believe given the contrary evidence offered up by the sound of gunfire echoing through his titanium filling)
They hadn’t said what they wanted him for but he’s thinking it’s going to be a long and potentially messy week.
Tales for the attention deficit reader
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