By Steven Rage

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Alright, Morbid, shit! ” I thought about it and decided to let it go for now. He’s just worried about Mary. So I only gave him the one more ‘flick’ on his inners to let him know what’s what. But that’s it. I can’t do too much more to him. I am dependent on him for protection and shelter. It would be cutting off my nose to spite my face if I did any real damage. As much as I am loathed to admit it, I know I need Juan. My survival on the outside is very limited, both in scope and time. I can deal out a great deal of damage.

If given the opportunity, that is. Blood isn’t enough for yours truly. I want to raze her and pull the guts out. Put the contents of her abdominal cavity in my clothes and walk around like this. The guts will be squishing and squashing in me knickers whilst I am going about my day to day. What a delightful scene, utterly charming! This isn’t Morbid’s show, though. Tonight belongs to the nocturne. And that’s fine, my urges notwithstanding. It took us for-fucking-ever to find him and get him to come with us.

The egg-layer might even dig it. Hell, she might even suggest it. The both of us became wildly excited once Mary turned a corner and glanced over her shoulder at us. She winked once and smiled and we knew right then we had the carrot necessary to tempt the nocturne. We followed Mary and our prize, still at a carefully discreet distance, down through the main Harbor underground thoroughfare, and off into where the smaller tunnels of wheel-like spokes spread out. The dark cold and ever-present stink of bad hygiene and bad karma floated like sulfur incense in the still air.

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