2 years 7 months ago
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As I pass the eroding façade of a fisherman’s hut, a beret-topped goon strides by in the opposite direction, casually swinging a machete. They’d be conspicuous were it not for the fact that there are no fishermen in this village anymore. If anyone were to bother putting up a welcome sign, it’d read ‘Population: Goons’. They like me, though. This thug’s two-tone mask might be impassive, but the voice beneath it betrays starstruck awe. “Julianna,” they say. “It’s an honour, really.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I hiss under my breath. “I’m in disguise. If the player hears you, we’re both mince. And thanks.”