"FWLS9" - читать интересную книгу автора (A Future We'd Like to See)

but was pinned.

The car roared off into the night, blaster fire ceasing. I
gave a sigh of relief, picked myself off the ground, and turned
to the policemen.

"Thanks for helping me out, guys," I said. "Do I need to
try and identify them in a mugshot or som--"

Both policemen exploded like exploding policemen as another,
identical car roared around the corner, pitching grenades.
Pretty well armed for thugs... oh dear, they're coming this
way... I've got to run, to get away from here, to find my den...

I broke into a dead run in a direction that was hopefully
away from the gangsters when reality cracked around me, crystal
patterns coated in blood red.

*

"Where is he, ma'am?"

"He's down here, bottom floor... I originally called you
fellows to complain about the noise, all that shooting and
screaming and explosions--"

"It's alright, ma'am. We at the police station are
thankful. Boy, this guy's a mess... coroner!"

"Yeah?"

"What HAPPENED to this guy?"

"I'm not sure. Looks like he decided to run as fast as
possible into a sliding glass door. Ugh, what a mess."

"Was it a suicide?"

"Doesn't look like it. He had his arms out, as if he was
trying to run away from something. Maybe something on this HV
setup he has scared him, or something."

Pause.

"Naaah. It's just HV. Well, get the poor guy a toe tag and
take him down to the morgue, we'll try to get in touch with his
next of kin."

You know, it is true. Too much HV can be bad for you.