A Slice of Heaven

 
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A Slice of Heaven

October 2 2006 at 1:29 PM
Harbinger Of Death  

There’s nothing subtle or poetic about this station. There’s a goon with a bored look on his face, tossing a knife up in the air and catching it again by the hilt without even looking at it. He’s got spears, daggers, athemays, box-cutters, a set of ground spikes, every kind of sharp object you can think of; and he’s ready to use them wherever and however you tell him to. He’ll do your neck and make it quick, or do your wrists and let you fade away, or he’ll even just pick an organ (or two, or five) to puncture for you and let your blood spill. He’s not particular.


 
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