Connection ErrorBad RequestSession ExpiredSign in requiredForbiddenNot FoundToo Many RequestsServer ErrorBad GatewayService UnavailableGateway TimeoutHTTP Version Not Supported
Session Expired
Your session has expired. Please log in to continue.
Sign in required
You need an account to do that. Sign in or create one — it only takes a minute.
Request Failed
We encountered an issue while processing your request.
Please check your internet connection and try again.
You'll buy me a beer, or will I have to get it from the surviving members of your family!
Well, if this is Radonar's last wish, then perhaps yes :), but I doubt Gil will agree.
Gil4
15 years ago
Auto-translated
Guys, the situation is as follows. It's quite easy to achieve a draw, it will just take some time. A simple way to achieve a draw is to have Sunny and Mallock, Rodfilg, and Raina/Radonar remaining alive. Then, every turn, Sunny blocks Rodfilg (her block happens before Rodfilg is redirected in turn order), and Mallock blocks and protects the second mage (Radonar/Raina). During the day, neither team will be able to do anything, no matter how hard they try. Of course, you can drag out the time and bring the situation to this point, but maybe everyone who is still alive will agree to a draw? It will end up this way anyway. I vote for a well-deserved draw.
The day turned out to be quiet, and I sat down peacefully to study the notes in Laura's file. Although there was little left to read. After the experiment with Rush's chair, the girl was "treated" using methods that would make the medieval Inquisition envy the ingenuity of these physicians. Days of sleep deprivation, extreme temperature fluctuations, electroshock – I don't know how she endured it all. The girl must have wanted to live very badly.
But her tormentors had one last trump card up their sleeve. A meeting with Antonio Monish awaited Laura. And this brilliant surgeon had his failures: Laura completely lost her sight and almost entirely her ability to move. Now she was haunted by actual nightmares and hallucinations; she screamed at night and tried to bash her head against the wall. After another such episode, she was taken for a session of insulin shock therapy, and the insulin coma quieted her – forever.
I sat on my bed, mechanically staring at the records. What was left for me to do? Everyone responsible for her death was already awaiting their encounter with justice — I could return with a clear conscience. And the rain, it seemed, had finally stopped.
I was brought out of my reverie by footsteps in the corridor. I barely had time to hide the file under the pillow before Gil4 entered my room. Anxiety and embarrassment were readable on his usually confident face.
— Listen, — he said, nervously playing with the clasp of his Beretta's holster, — I wanted to talk to you... Basically, I'm aware that you have nothing to do with medicine. Stop-stop, — he preemptively raised his hand palm-forward, noticing my movement, — I'm not going to pry into what you're doing here, why you have a weapon, or why the hell you were prowling around the old wing every day. After all, we all owe you a bit for your curiosity. — Then what is it you want? — I asked cautiously, discreetly moving my hand behind my back and feeling the grip of the pistol with my fingertips just in case. — I need your help. — Gil4 unzipped his jacket, reached into the inner pocket, and pulled out a medical file exactly like Laura's. Only the title page read: "Rodfilg Lonsish". — Why do you have his file? — I asked, bewildered as I looked at the pages covered in notes.
Gil4 stood by the window, turning his back to me. — What do you think, — his voice sounded unexpectedly sarcastic, — how many people in the world do you think have the surname Lonsish? — Hell if I know. First time I've heard it. — Not surprising. He made it up himself. His real surname... — Gil4 hesitated, then took a deep breath and turned to me, looking me straight in the eyes — his real surname is Mullock. — Mullock? But then... — Yes, — Gil4 interrupted me irritably, — he's my brother — a psychopath, a genius, a schizophrenic, and a great guy. And he is the only person I give a damn about in this fucking world. — Don't get worked up, — I said conciliatorily. — So what do you want from me?
Gil4 sighed. — It seems to me that Roddy isn't doing too well in this place. Especially in Building D. I wanted to move him to another clinic; I found a quiet spot in the mountains. But they didn't want to let him go, saying he needed specialized treatment. Anyway, while the chaos here hasn't settled yet... you're planning to make a break for it, I assume?
I thought about the Ford securely parked near the dam and nodded. — I have a spare key to Roddy's room. I took it from Arandor's belt when we were undressing him in the morgue. If you wait for us, I could lead Roddy out closer to midnight and we could sneak to your place through the park so that no one would even notice. I understand you're not obligated to do this, but... He faltered. I looked at his face in silence. Yes, damn it, I should have said "no"; it would have been the most rational thing. But after what I had read in Laura's file, I couldn't bring myself to refuse a man who was trying to save his brother from this hell.
— Fine, — I said, — but if your brother kills us on the way — the funeral is on him. Gil4 beamed. For a few seconds, he looked at me in silence as if I were a messiah descended from the clouds, then impulsively shook my hand.
***
The rain had indeed stopped. The "Fordy" seemed to be in place, and a few hours later we were already driving down the night road away from the asylum. Gil4 sat next to me, and Xostor, situated in the back seat, looked silently out the window at the flashing trees, only occasionally smiling reservedly and dreamily.
