We reached the last episode of this story for six weeks has appeared in my blog its six respective mini -betting. This does not mean that any new players can not back piece by piece and enjoy the terrible adventure of Cobra and his companions. Happy reading e. .. conscious of the cameras!
Chapter VI
He had never experienced anything like this, had never heard of its existence as much in the balance, he had never felt so vulnerable, so close to failure. Walking the streets with his head down, scanning the pavement of the sidewalk to concentrate better, Cobra thought to how he could fall on the pavement. Reasoned e concluse che le sue dissennate ricerche lo avevano portato a non considerarne le spese, ad allontanarsi dal reale per rifugiarsi nella fantasia di qualcosa che fosse suo fuori dal mondo che avrebbe dovuto conquistare. Un uomo senza denaro non può far altro che chiedere aiuto. Ma prima voleva tentare il tutto per tutto, compiere il gesto estremo, il gesto del non ritorno che gli avrebbe dato la forza di ottenere ciò per cui, altrimenti, qualsiasi uomo sarebbe stato troppo debole. Tornò a casa di Filtro ed ordinò che gli fosse fatto quel che a Filtro era stato fatto. Si accoppiò selvaggiamente con Sheena e, mentre giungeva all’orgasmo, prese a urlare spasmodicamente: -Ora!! Fallo ora!!-
L’uomo cui aveva tirato neck returned his favor and a moment later, the Negro was lying on the bed like a lover exhausted from too much sex.
-Ci-you have to give your drug they said in chorus his followers as soon as he opened his eyes.
-I no longer have answered, and to show that if there's only because I can not do that I put in your own condition, infected by the poison that I have created, and with you that you can not without it, I'll be ready for any action. Are you ready to follow me? -
Cobra was human, too. His humanity surfaced occasionally in the form of anxious thoughts that dealt largely with the nature of people. Could be disturbed, For example, meet again in an old acquaintance, recognize his face, but feel totally ignorant of what that face was hidden, as if their faces were masks borrowed from the collection of a horror movie costume. It was perhaps for this reason that his research in the febrile world of herbs aimed at the packaging of a drug to bring out the wild side of those who had taken? Was it that the image of the wild side without a mask? I doubt they remained stuck to him even after he infected his own potion. But a drug to go down in history must be addictive, and that's why Cobra was on his way from his drug dealer in raw materials. He had to hurry, or abstinence would kill him before his name could be engraved alongside that of the creator of 'LSD.
Cobra decided to seek his old comrade: Fulvio Marcio. It was the masked man he knew. In 2039 he wrote a book called Reflections ni Milan that had caused many problems. It had not been imprisoned, tortured or deported but had been vilified, fired and evicted. The voices insulting that brought him to public contempt he had flown down from somewhere, perhaps from multiple sources who had also produced countless sketches, but they certainly had their origin at the top, even if you do not know how high. His was a book consists of small samples or short episodes reflections of a social and had a certain hold on a decent audience. Cobra distressed ventured up the stairs of the dilapidated building with no doors, in the decaying neighborhood Lambrate to the door of the house of Fulvio Marcio, proudly intellectual exiled in a den of smelly hookers and violent North Africans on the capacities. They had not seen for years, but neither was much changed. Fulvio greeted his visit with enough, and there was nothing to be surprised. Their friendship was broken when Fulvio had decided to conduct his personal struggle with the intellect, with the theory and the words, but Cobra had chosen to become a sorcerer. Now that was apex of his career as a pharmacist voodoo, now that he had managed to develop a compound that transformed the infectious deaths in hungry beasts of raw meat and sex, now that he had converted himself into an animal, he found himself having to deal with the more artificial needs: the need for money. If he had not bought as soon as the raw materials to manufacture its drug his body would quickly corrupt and would see the worms proliferate in its meat. But all that Fulvio had to offer was the painful spectacle of himself trying to cut his wrists with a blunt kitchen knife.
As soon as he saw Cobra realized that his last hope to make some money was committing suicide and appealed to all that was left of the human in him to convince him not to take his own life.
-I have taken everything! - Complained Fulvio Marco-If I can not write no more sense, there is a sense, there's more ... - and continued as a disc jammed. -Do you want money? - Cobra said through tears-I spent all of that to buy laptop-and motioned to the PC that was on the table. -I can not find paper to write ... you know what we got? No more paper, they must have cut down the last tree of the Amazon! Poor us, poor us poor us ... Così ho preso i miei risparmi a e ho comprato un computer. Per scrivere, capisci?? Per scivere. Se non che, ecco, mi metto a scrivere e mi si cancellano le frasi, o si modificano o vengono fuori degli strani avvisi “pensiero non autorizzato”. Ed ecco che capisco quel che avrei dovuto capire prima: l’intelligenza artificiale ha fatto passi da gigante negli ultimi anni, e sono riusciti ad installare in ogni computer un programma in grado di riconoscere le frasi sovversive e ad eliminarle o modificarle per rendere innocuo tutto ciò che viene scritto. E io cosa faccio adesso?? Cosa??-
Cobra riuscì a calmarlo dicendogli –guardami amico, guardami in faccia, sono messo peggio di te - And convinced him to prepare a coffee.
While the other was in the kitchen to make a great mocha, Cobra tried to concentrate to make good use of what could be his last hours of life. He watched without much interest in the books of the scholar yellowed and withered the slimy snake that hissed in his gut told him to wait until the coffee was served and then kill him and drink a double ration. However, his eye fell on a copy of Reflections Milan who was on the table, the book written by what was once seemed like a friend asking him to open it, and so, more by instinct than curiosity, Cobra began to read a page at random, one of the many reflections that Fulvio had seemed important in their time but instead were scattered like smoke in the air. The reflection that she found herself reading was:
TRAIN WE ARE ALL EQUAL
I have to go to xxx. The best way, I think, is by train. I then went to Milan central station, a station crowded and full of smells: sweat, pigeon shit, piss human dust that has become dated fossil, smoke ... The thing that smells of less in here, is the food kiosks. Yet I have read a book in the first half of the 900 striking rather a description of the aroma emanating from a well-seasoned pot of beans. I also found in the dictionary words such as "fragrance" and "juicy", but I think now may be attributed enrollment of archaisms.
When I get in the cab to xxx the train is crowded. I appropriate a place to sit, one of the last to remain free, while the corridor of the car fills up with people forced to remain standing. Here is spreading among the people a very distinguished dude shoes lu cide, pants store style "denied entry to the have-nots', gay fashion designer jacket, handbag most expensive of all the objects that fill my, hair gel that must be worth more than all my meals on Sunday of my last ten years. This dude tries to take off down the corridor, pushing, asking permission and is surprised that the step did not yield so easily. When he comes up to my seat, runs into a little lady with dark and wrinkled from the inclemency of a life spent at the foot of the social ladder. I see surprise on his face, because the lady does not deviate to let him pass. Asks permission and is told that "does not see? everything is full, where you going? " Zittito da una donna dall’accento straniero l’elegantone abbassa gli occhi al vecchio sudicio strafatto di whisky scadente che ha trovato posto lì accanto, e siede come un re sul suo trono; il suo bagaglio è un sacchetto della spesa strappato. Il bellimbusto stringe a sé la sua borsa elegante che chissà cosa contiene; dal volto triste di quest’uomo ben vestito e pettinato r icavo una riflessione: in treno siamo tutti uguali.
Quanti anni erano passati da quando Fulvio Marcio aveva scritto quelle cose? Tanti. Abbastanza da cambiare drasticamente la realtà che described. Now that the sources of energy were running out the old railway stations were the haunt of stray dogs and ragged poor. Only two hundred yards from the house of Fulvio Marcio, the station of Lambrate, prostitutes roamed for beggars who mated with who had nothing to offer but the last remnants of life, donavano their last thrill, they took their last splash of semen rancid and killed them in the shelter of some abandoned wagon, to cook their thighs burned on bonfires of rubbish. Sometimes you could see columns of smoke from some old train that caught on fire, thick and black rose into the sky in the background every five minutes the planes were leaving from different airports burned at high altitude quelli che dovevano essere gli ultimi barili di carburante, che però sembravano non finire mai.
Una linea ferroviaria ancora in funzione, però, era rimasta. Era una linea di treni veloci e costosi, una linea di treni di lusso che collegava le principali città del paese. A Milano partivano due treni al giorno, dalla Stazione Centrale, l’unica ancora tirata a lustro, più limpida e profumata di quando era stata costruita, quella stessa stazione in cui Fulvio Marcio aveva preso il treno all’epoca delle sue Riflessioni milanesi , quella stazione che l’intellettuale fallito aveva visto come simbolo della democrazia e dell’uguaglianza ora era un luogo d’elite, dove per comprare un biglietto you had to be filthy rich. The alternative for the common people, was overcrowded planes of large companies, or their legs. In the Central Station
everything was sterilized and disinfected, the shades of gray marbles were a counterpoint to the large advertising screens and stained with showy shop windows, dozens of people who had chosen the path of consumption and welfare to the detriment of millions of ragged as they walked toward the tracks under hypnosis. Who was more dead? Those out there that was consumed in dragging a life of hunger, disease and alcoholism or lobotomized by these rich promotional messages and brands of clothing industries of luxury? The security cameras seized Cobra while engaged in such reasoning. His appearance gave the infected eye in the midst of hygiene, his gait was wrong too different from the past of those who walked 
dumbed down with his eyes glued to screens and brains in a short circuit of subliminal messages as "buy the Our new fragrance the violet, the men are not smelling bad. " A guard blocked his way and asked him where do you go black, but later the same guard had a bite on the neck and a gush of blood stood out very well on the marble floor. Cobra was shot down by electric batons. Like an animal. Almost immediately
Sheena also had entered the station and perhaps only through the turmoil caused by Cobra was able to sit in a wagon. She sat down exposing her legs left uncovered by the colorful tiny skirt and torn, but no one had seen, above each seat had a screen that always sent the same three ads for the duration of the trip, for two hours for three hours to six, and once you get home the first thing I'd tried was the new fragrance for women scented mimosa or better fucking new pants by Dolce & Compare to men who wear it magnifies the package. So the only one who noticed that the panther was detached controller, who asked, "ticket lady" and she reached out to dare al controllore un biglietto che non aveva mentre il controllore le porse la sua per prendere un biglietto che non esisteva, e ci rimise due dita. Sheena masticò le sue falangi come fossero patatine fritte mentre gli uomini della sicurezza piombavano nel vagone inorriditi. Dovettero spararle una ventina di volte per fermarla. Anche un passeggero ci rimise cranio e cervello, due schermi pubblicitari andarono in frantumi.
Filtro si mantenne fedele al suo stile: si avvicinò ad un uomo in tenuta business che, in un angolo dell’atrio della stazione, fissava la pubblicità di una nota marca di sigarette. -Hey amico- gli chiese
–Non è che hai una paglia?- Questi lo guardò con sguardo vuoto e gli porse, slow and listless, with a gesture, a cigarette.
protested Filter-Hey-What the fuck is' this shit? It is plastic-
-electric-cigarette is a businessman made the apathetic-is forbidden to smoke tobacco lobby. The electric cigarette, however, this is smoke everywhere and loads of supernicotina when shooting comes on the small light on the end, as if you were smoking seriously .-
-tenertela can crap your electricity, we want a true understanding ? - Filter altered screamed and screamed and pulled out a knife and half a foot long. His face became more brutal than it already was, threatening enough to shake Mr. business from its indifference. -Did you or did you not real cigarettes? - Church brings them closer to the knife in his neck
- L-I have - made the more frightened, and with trembling hands fumbled in the pockets. Filter took the whole package, he thanked him and spread with a header. He lit a cigarette, a real, deep and gave it a shot, closing his eyes to enjoy them more. He saw the police arrive, nor hail of beatings that befell him. While dragging him away, still holding the filter holding lit cigarette, and smiled.
Aldo Meanwhile Paul was once again entered the office of manager of the 7. It was exactly as he had left: the same pictures that this time they seemed awful, smell the same, this time it seemed louder, the smell of money, property, cigar. A smell exciting. Aldo Paul sat down before the director invited him to do so.
-Mr Paul. We saw only four days ago because she had given signs of abnormal behavior. Now, she has accumulated four days of unexcused absence from work, omission punishable by law with imprisonment of three months if absent for the most aggravating is the fact that his was a job of great responsibility, which means doubling the penalty. Of course, if she presented in my office dressed decently, with a good justification, ready to apologize and lucid enough showing to resume his work, I could be forgiving ... but what should I say instead? Look, it looks impossible, Mr. Paul, impr ... - Aldo
Paul let out a roar, and jumped across the desk. He grabbed the director for the green jacket and as he choked on his own blue tie the swell filling his nostrils with the smell of hair gel that was blowing with his victim's frightened expression on her face painted. Then he sat down at the position of Director, began to explore luxury items scattered on the desk. Pochi essenziali oggetti di lusso, e tra questi una scatoletta di legno. Quando vennero ad arrestarlo lo trovarono come in estasi, mentre ne odorava il contenuto: odore di soldi, di ricchezza, di sigaro. Alle sue spalle gli orrendi quadri erano stati rimossi dalle pareti; al loro posto Aldo Paoli aveva messo il direttore, appeso per la giacca, coi chiodi.
Nella saletta di controllo il sostituto di Aldo Paoli sorseggiava un energy drink e fissava nervosamente i monitor. Un uomo seduto nell’area d’imbarco attirò la sua attenzione: aveva il volto rovinato da qualche tipo di malattia e si guardava intorno come un animale che si sente braccato. D’un tratto Charles Logan si voltò verso la telecamera di sicurezza, e mostrò middle finger. If the man beyond the monitor had been able to read lips would have understood that in making that gesture Logan whispered
there's a place to escape ...FINE!
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