Unity of Opposites
Damn this place, damn this place, damn this place!
My hands are still shaking from what I saw.
Last night, I was urgently summoned to Building D. On my way there, I saw that I wasn't the only one called—something serious had happened. In the corridor leading to the building entrance,
Arandor lay with his throat slit. If it weren't for the badge on his coat, we wouldn't have recognized him—his entire face had been carved with cold-blooded cruelty by a blade, turning into a clotted bloody mask, and the eyes, nose, and tongue... the killer had placed them aside separately. Written in blood right above the baseboard were the words: "Good luck." The killer, whoever they were, took nothing from the victim's pockets—no money, no keys, no box of ampoules, so it was impossible to explain this animalistic brutality.
The incident should have been reported to
Pitch Black, but he wasn't in his office. Obviously, he had to be sought in the wing where the doctors' living quarters were located... and that's where we found him, near the entrance. Apparently, he was intending to go to bed, but he wasn't destined to complete the short path along the trail leading from the main building. A precise shot to the back of the head dropped him right onto the rain-soaked ground, and a few oak leaves had already managed to stick to his coat.
Damn it. I even feel a bit sorry for him—whatever put Laura in the grave, he certainly had no hand in it.
At breakfast in the general dining hall, I studied the faces of those sitting at the long tables. No one could have broken into the clinic.
One of them.
Who?
Most were simply overtly terrified, either whispering or eating in silence, staring into their plates. Although
Xostor, for example, looked completely calm, and there wasn't a hint of fear on his enlightened face.
By lunchtime, news arrived from the laboratory. Blood analysis of
Arandor showed that he had been under a staggering dose of sleeping pills. What the hell is going on?
The nurse on duty, tearful and smelling strongly of sedative drops, wrote in the diagnostic log: "
Xostor – unstable,
Gil4 – aggressive," and when she stepped away, I noticed several crumpled notes in the wastebasket near her desk. It's unlikely, of course, that there would be anything important there, but just in case, I took them out and skimmed through them:
The check on Amka showed that his mental state is aggressive.
Zam.________________________________________________
Attention! Xostor is unstable, Gil is aggressive!!! Checking Thoria today, Mishka will check Omega.
Mr. Goldstein, if you decide to use the "Information Gathering" ND, please try to coordinate your actions with us somehow so that we don't repeat our checks.
Anka________________________________________________
People, read the newspaper more carefully, I'm still alive. Today I am redirecting ND Gil4 to Xostor.
Karen.________________________________________________
Gur is as stable as a corpse's pulse.
Respectfully, Your Karl Goldstein.________________________________________________
< Rе187 >. Hammer.________________________________________________
We agree to cooperate. The monsters will pay for everything they did to our brothers and sisters.
Arandor is one of the butchers. He is unfriendly, aggressive, and certainly not a guard—the euphoria will not lie. Today this scoundrel will die. And it will be the beginning of their end. Sorry, cutie Hossie, the final newspaper won't be according to tradition...Clinic inhabitants:Reinhard
Небо
Xostor
Gil4
WisTrit
Werevolka
WhiteLizard
Hermit
RiMpel2
Loreley
Гур
Нэйра Дрэйк
Amko
WishmasteR
Thorium
Князь_OMEGADead:Ple-SenPitch BlackArandor