"FWLS64" - читать интересную книгу автора (A Future We'd Like to See) I shrugged, and turned around. The agent promptly stabbed me
in the ass with a knife. I screamed in pain and spun around, as the agent was tossing an empty needle and syringe, not a blade, down the trash can. "There. You ought to live now. Wish they had given me two doses... damn these 'the victim is more important than you' laws..." "What the hell did you just do?" I asked, rubbing my sore rump. "I gave you the rage. Very experimental. Just remember, fear is the survival trig--" There was a deafening roar, as a running chainsaw blade jabbed itself through the door, cutting away at the locking mechanism. The agent's eyes went REAL wide behind the sunglasses as he fished around his pockets for something lethal, but the door was open before he could react. A group of shoppers barged in, plowing into us full tilt. #46336A was slammed against a wall, his nose jamming into the wall and leaving a bloody smear as his head was pulled away. I hit the stall I was leaning on shoulder first, a two hefty sized guys him against the wall. The boy entered. He was maybe seventeen, tops. A typical gothic punk, like some of the jerks in my grade, wearing a dark overcoat and inch thick glasses. He nodded to the men who held us at bay. "Good work, gentlemen. I take it you, sir, are a Not-So- Secret-Agent?" "Happily employed," he joked. One of the men grunted and punched him across the jaw, starting the constant flow of blood from his nose. "You, sir, have ruined my plans for the evening with your lockout," the boy said, pointing an accusing finger. "Take his coat." "Not the coat!" the agent pleaded. "It's the only way I'll be able to live--" One of the men pulled out a knife, and sliced the coat off the Agent, pausing only when it snagged on random bizarre mechanical |
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