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NUPALO
Welcome to Gresendon!

Welcome to Gresendon!

The shiver goes across the great and narrow roads, roofs of cities, tubes of factories, skyscrapers, fields in villages and brawls for varasism, or for failure. This is it - Old Igiris, the burnt blossom of World Revolution willed by Varáse de la Grené and her supporters - communists, communards, varasists, socialists and even white-black rêveurs.

"The overworld equality, only communes with ordinary people, without any contradictions between them, no riches, no exploiters, no kings, no rulers, no gods, only men and women with equal rights for life and wellfare" - sounds good, but with understanding it becomes less appealing and romantic, or even not classical at all. But there's a main question - what is the main truth? The answer - no one knows, and no one wants to know about it.

Everyone has its own or one's truth, not overall one. Pyramis, Gaia or Earth - materialistic world as one stop in a hollow universe, with its own local and indigenous organisms, physical and logical rules, Earth in all colors, from infra to ultra. In year 1999 - last year of last century of second millennium, in the march of new order. 206 billions of intellectual beings are on the skin of Earth.

9:32 PM: On the dead lotus of Leftist ideology - Gresendon, capital of ISDF - Igirish Social Democratic Federation. More certainly, in the South-West Clinton District, 31671 meters away from the Central Igirish Parliament, in an old, four-store construction, built in 18 century, on its fourth flat faced to the asphalt street, there is living one laying on the floor, with storms of alcoholia and insanity in his brain. He doesn't want to know himself, so he is escaping from this mediocre era of regret and pain as a daily routine.

11:03 AM: In cool and shiny day of February - last third of winter full of newborn, green, snow-capped and bald, like people, trees of priceless beauty and melancholic euphoria, on the Pittwell or P2L Highway, that crosses the Old Gilliom like a Jimster's blackberry chewing gum on the gunpowder, traffics of motorcarriages and automobiles are moving with tension to their jobs on another bank of the Grand Lucius Lewi's Channel - Little Knight Island, placed between the channel and Dambo's Lake. In this island, there is Northern Financial Center, Knight or Night City with its overdosing from sunshine skyscrapers, turning this city into bright and bloomy lantern with wide range of neon and holographic ads of multi-billionaire corporations at endless vice nights.

2:54 PM: Extravagant cars like Borgia Vaffele SM or Soyka Elinka D-91 costing more than goddamit 3,000,000 númuses or even more, are driven by capitalism followers exploiting proletarians and agrarians for more and more money - Endloses Kapital - as balfostian varasist Bismuth Froidenger said. Benfelgrich POLINTERN-GCM-M-79, with officers Glander "Black Rocky" Rockman and Yukawa "Cowboy" Karaotsi in cabin, they may be in mission, but who knows.

3:35 PM: The stylish and exclusively decorated restaurants, shops, jewelry stores, offices and salons are lined like precious self-help books of would-be billionaires, trying their luck, money and life in cryptocurrency. Edwin Garbeck Finances's workers are such lame ducks. One worker called Mikey, wearing Korisoyen black suit, green necktie and exotic cheap home-made xandzian sham-nickel wristwatch, walks towards the opened for cleaning 3 meter window in 31th floor and tries to fly down towards the Barry Dalestone's Street.

Below monolithic and sky touching highway CL-56, towards the South of the capital, there is Lord Roland's Industrial Area, more certainly, ruins of it as the scar of Great Falling Down in Anti-Communist War or Third Great War left by IU - International Union, union of shit-excreting democratic cults and their sectarians. Expressionistic pattern of holes pierced by bullets aimed to shoot off those who were against the current government system: bourgeoisie, monarchists, anarchists, communists, or approximately six million of people, including those who weren't privy in this big ideological festival.

Asphalted streets of the zone are factually much better than exploded and destroyed factories and over-painted with graffiti and tags of gangster and immature anarchists. Although level of industry is 21 %, mostly of services, gadgets, slaves and endless private and organised armies of chain shops, the Gresendon South-East though looks like to slums with commercial trash, garbages of society and scattering radioactive shit all over the drying Samuel Ambrasiusis's River, worse than any amalgamation of the oil. South-East is liveable and has a miserable chances of not being fucked by child-loving pedophiles who are invited in homosexual gangs.

Old fluorescent street lamps still share their organic light with alcoholics, narcotists, loser-players or just people filled with sorrow and having no love for life. Untouched drainage and connected tunnels now harbour bodies of numerous felo-de-se, social offal and revolutioners decaying, turning to undeads and being eaten by these undeads and other carnivorous parasites. Smugglers and drug dealers who are trying to get beyond these catacombs to make boffo affair of everything abandoned from khandagarian heroin and automatic rifles to apples of immortality, like of vampires in romantic dumb escapist trash.

By looking to blue sky with a couple of clouds, there are white skylines of civilian, touristic, commercial and military airships like dark stars on the sunny night. Sometimes, there are some sparks of spaceships moving way above the atmosphere and make flights to another planets of Heliosphere: Hermes, Aphrodite, Ares, Demeter, Zeus, Cronos, Ouranos, Poseidon, Hades, Rhea, Dionysus and Eris. Heliosphere or Solar System is only one child of the galaxy known as the Archipelago or Alerhábille.

8:20 PM: Old oak tree stands on the beach near the Niole Zoyda's amusement pier which hasn't yet opened for twenty five years. It reminds the feelings of nostalgia, melancholy, happiness, innocence, pain, cry, sorrow and despair of one insane and suicidal cop of the World End in one damned house.

10:48 PM: Crowd of people, journalists, medics and militia officers gathered in Gorgeous Martina's Roundabout with different clothes shops of "High Modern Fashion" and with posters of Anna Knežinya and Garry Ferguson starring in the premier movie named "Mortal Hearts" produced by Noremuare Diolla. But what things were appealing were two cars, lorry and pickup, and both of them hit the Senator Jordan Wembley's Fountain.

First one is shot Benfelgrich M-86 AV with symbol of white skull with little eyes in forms of triangle one both side doors and with a sign: "Los héroes de Met Howard", the name of the Far Orient Immigrated criminal group founder by former leader of labor union whose name was Met Howard Caprialdis - true white revolutioner, and his gremion has consisted mostly of Orkoids and Ogroids, who are descendants of Monkradian slaves transported here from colonies during the period of Great Oz's Racial and National Mixing Experimentation - project decided by League of Empires and the third minister of ITUPC - International Traders' Union of Promovent Companies - Michael Gregory Ozwald, who was killed by Gerandian fascist - Kürt Sebel, in 1905, three years after project founded, then, as the Ozwald iteslf, was acclaimed as a failure.

Second is a lorry Nenky C-90, with an emblem of another second to none gang - "Anti Kuso Yaro Domo" - Bloody hand holding katana on hood of the autolorry, founded by nimeian commissioned labourers. The lorry had a Puchkov's machine gun of 1948 in the back container. All criminals dead, leaving empty biomasses for morgues and journalists' media sensations.

Single communist idea of International Unity all overworld people was completed, leading to the emerging of many micro and even macro gangs, especially their infamous leaders like: Alejandro Howard - Heroes of Met Howard, Than Atos - Outsiders of Hades, Min Baek Wong - Mundeok disciples, Sir Arthur Scorpovesler - Emperor Eugene's Sacred Knights, Gobero Kolubabei - Funky Junky Boys, Dobrinyev Nikita - Three Godunovians, Anjankar Sinkh - A-Company, Konida Emomota - Anti-assholes, Victoria Al Carmen - Regine, Petr Mailakr - Banging and Sweeping, Fayzulla Rakhmetdinov - Sheranians, and many other names. However, only yakuza of AKYD, mafia of Regine and order of Emperor Eugene's Sacred Knights can be considered as the most influential trio not only in ISDF, but overall among Promovent countries.

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4:45 AM: However, factories are still in use, more certainly, by prowler, seeking for money, machinery, drugs and anything else left as gift after Third Great War. Gang members use this doomed area for intergang clashes or fair trade. Militia, like comets on the industrial sky, visit there due to the fact that they don't fucking care.

4:18 PM: In 4th Resphilidainwell Street, in the area of previous VIJK - Vermont Charles, Ingram Orlovsky, Jarmeck Farellton, Kostra Dla'Johanim - founders of this international company, who have the same named Pharmacy Production Zone. One young wiper, Lincoln Traison Guston, is wandering around demolished factories to find and kill enemies of humanity, and, if it is possible, to find with his sharp eyes some amphetamines or magnificent pink opium - "For better vision, of course" as King Engel III cited.

The sound of the group of radogs becomes more louder and louder. He flees away from here finding only two bottles of absolute vodkas with 99% of spiritus, valuing to be 40 númuses or three hours for lethal drinking in one night club. By thinking about future, his back bone was pierced by limersi Igkhar-6D transmissional pistol shot by crazy hobo war veteran seeking for the same treasures. Life is great and cruel thing, smashing those who weak. However, should someone survive, then this someone crushes others, like a piece of horseshit, but it sounds pretty pretentious. Wiper is convulsing and feels that he is at the edge of the apocalypse, collapsing his world piece by piece, like major cake of the banquet.

7:02 PM: Victor Ahtergellatine with black and old Iefronian People's Militia cape and uniform of the member of gendarmerie runs and catches magnetic monorail metal and patterned with graffiti train towards Old Gilliom.

Five people in one wagon, two men, with gray and yellow lined IKL - International Kepler Logistics - uniforms, are workers and are obviously drunks, one on the left side is old woman with two parcels of products, another one on the right side is sad girl with old moralphian martial hat is probably "Regine" gang member leading by disreputable lady - Victoria Al Carmen, one behind sitting on the crazy-patterned seat is woman with short fair hair, bright and even extraterrestrial blue eyes stares to the student who started to watch her firstly, and strange headphones - something was mysterious here, or might be overanalyzing nonsense, in Wagon T-82. After reaching to the old Jeack Astarus's Train Station, student leaves this wagon, but that fifth person also leaves it and walks with straightforward steps to the another avenue.

7:37 PM: Student enters into the Mark Schumacher's Precinct, officers on duty: Silus McIntosh and ater William "Kebab" Kabatus catch surprise from surprising comeback, and called student as "Mr Soentso Detective" and laugh in the homonymous synchronous rhythms as Sisters Mashkovy, who died because of the excessive consumption of the pink opium and incestuous DNA of their parents. Young volunteer officer opens locker, finds keys and pays attention to one old yellow folder with some cassette and photos. All attention is paid to this extraordinary folder.

Soentso Detective is mumbling, taking keys from the upper shelf. When student turns, there is a Martin Larryson, man about fifties sitting on the chair, drinking Cordis Cola without sugar, which is false of course. Martin ignores the student and everything like a damné merde, or just he is sad, very diddy sad - he is lost, like mote in endless hollow vacuum of the universe.

7:39 PM: In Tien'Oel - the Northern Ardian elves' Area, lieutenant half-orkoid Morgan Hanvock having a special holiday, listens to the Western Vinland Jazz-Rap music from Forma ATC Kaiser in dark green nimenian Kikonura Somune sportcarriage, sends through mobile teletiper photos of related to his suspiciousness people.

Two students - boy and girl, who came there driving yellow Milly Phornet muscle car of the 70's, visit living more than three centuries QoIörda and his antique shop. They after 28 minutes and 47 seconds questionably leave this having two flats building. Both of them wear black jackets and boy has jean pants, and girl has black medium skirt, and a pair of long black boots, probably they are from Steiner Grimmer's Highschool. Girl, Hildegård Ines Loren, balfostian human, with blonde hair having a bun hair, Archer sun glasses, under which there are green anxious eyes.

Another is a boy, Rustin "Rusty" Vincent Clave, igirish half-elv with muscles and grey hair, having a Tsin Shjen Boxing armour. They two together carry one box with serial mark in Paladrüsian. Putting it in the baggage of the automobile, they talk and laugh for a while, having bright and innocent mimics of muscles on their young, but oddly worrying faces. They drive towards Alexander's underwater tunnel.

Mr Hanvock doesn't have a desire for following them, he doesn't worry about, enjoying and appreciating his precious time of his boring unlucky, like a dying cell, life. He takes pack of Dark Mordor cigarettes and smokes one of them with satisfaction.

10:56 PM: Some woman, Freya Fikret Ester, about twenty two years of existing, wearing white shirt and black pants carrying her brown handbag with makeup, miniature mirror, underwear, 25MM military mini-yatagan with antamarian ornaments and pocket pistol Heiphelberg T-2 - favourite of legendary spies, leaves State Steiner Grimmer's Highschool, simply Steiner Grimmer's or her working place, walking with strong inclination towards Catherine Daizy's Street - popular amongst men red street in terms of especially private services - street, having a smell of the shittest spermatozoids, masturbations, lust and lapse from virtue, which can be sniffed from Dormunshire to Karbulldam.

She has to go there for vengeance, with so much pain made by her life. It is place of broken humanism rules of life given by God. Maybe be everything could be better, but it can't, no one can - to care about the cycle of raping, corruption, war crimes, drugs or simple everlasting information.

Young short black haired adult, Lenox Yuji Jasper, in brown overcoat and eugenian long boots follows this woman cautiously, kinda fear and love. Questions of what to do, what will happen and what could happen if he won't. Anger is filling his blue childish eyes, obfuscating his pad-nag in his mind. Every stuff here annoys and is disgusted by the scum, the scunts, the dogs, the filth, the shit. He wants genocide of them and turn this place of the decayed world peaceful, leaving nonsense.

On the other side of the road, behind moving cars, biker on Lupedi R-76, Thomas "Rider" Fremont Junior, with a sign "Lost and damned'' on black jacket of typical bikers and wearing closed gray and white motorbike helmet, moves behind strangely watching young man in overcoat. The glimmers enlight face behind dark glass of protection - hazel eyes, reminding of bare earth soil.

On the Far Eastern Gresendon - Nuke Town - there are no infinite noise of transport, people and lights of lampposts, buildings and even matches. It is dark and hollow territory of global disaster caused by humanity to itself - Black Hole, more precisely, zone under status of MMCA: Major Military Crime Area, probably already dead extramarital child of bloody war and atomic bomb "Mars-239". But there are still some eyewitnesses of this incident who call this area as Zone. They now live in psychiatric hospitals, jails, ditches or underground as fertilizers for organisms.

9:31 AM: Ferroconcrete gray featureless walls with the 20 meter height, tries to hide mysterious and shady stuff behind it's walls. There is still some conspiracy among scientists and revanchists who hold a theory that not every thing is alright with it. Young man, Aurelius Barrel Málick, wearing gray suit and red necktie walks along the abandoned wall, watching ruins of snow-capped burnt houses, hyperfactories, Igirish cultural heritage, fractured roads with particles of transport on them and military airships which fell after the explosion of plutonium bomb in 7:09 AM, 25th December, 1972, at the Kingswood Park, full of trenches, anti-aircraft ack-acks, bodies of soldiers and fires from all barrels, filling the air with the aroma of gunpowder. Spark of nuke destroyed everything and everyone in Eastern Gresendon.

10:04 AM: Ash still lies above the burnt soil and concrete, making it only a gloomy page of textbook of 10th class Igirish history. Two guards in dark red clothing and white respirators holding rifles Erich-90-IU in front of sealed gates of sector 53GIL, read science fiction novel in small booth. They get distracted from drunk crazy middle aged woman running towards the door, yelling 'Os gwelwch yn dda! Dewch yn ôl ataf, fy mhlant!' in egarenench, with explosive. Green eyed rifleman, Johan Naspater Brown, nervously picks up his rifle. He shoots several times, but he can't aim properly.

When woman comes close to them, loser gun runner indeliberately throws book and promptly flees. On impulse, second guard, Huang Preston Dan, hits her head at first bout. After it, she falls. Blood begins to leak from her body and mix with scattered residues of her brain on an asphalted road. When they approximate to the cadaver of woman, they notice it isn't explosive, it is brown half-torn teddy dragon with blue buttons.

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