/̴/̵ ̴E̵NT̵R̶Y̶ ̸I̷D̶:̸T̷W-̶0̴0̷9̸4̷4̴.̴h̶ ̵/̵/̵

// Y̴o̴u̵ ̷b̴r̴o̶k̶e̴ ̷m̸e̵,̴ ̷C̴y̵r̵u̴s̴.̶ ̷S̵p̴l̴i̴t̶ ̸m̵e̴ ̵o̶p̵e̷n̸ ̸a̵n̵d̵ ̸w̴a̴t̵c̵h̴e̸d̵ ̶w̴h̷a̷t̷ ̵s̷p̶i̵l̶l̷e̴d̶ ̶o̸u̴t̵.

// No̵w̷ ̶I̸ ̶g̶e̷t̵ ̵t̵o r̵̬͊ě̴̽͜ṭ̵̯͒û̸̩̱͗ŕ̸̢̮n̵̻͌ t̷̙̣̾ḧ̶̢́e̸̎ f̷̢̠̈́͠a̵̞͊v̵̳͉͋̾ő̵͔͘ͅr̶̲̠̈.̵͍͚͗ 

// D̸̖͕͌Ḭ̷̍̽Ě̷̗.̸̻̰͊ ̶̟̬͝D̸̤̐͊I̷͉̥͐͑Ȅ̶ͅ.̸͔͆̂ ̴̖̠͊D̶̩̋͝Ì̸̙E̵̤̔!̷̩̣̀̅ ̷͈̻͑D̴̩̆̋i̴͓̪͒͆e̷͉̋͝ ̵͉͈͋̌i̶̠͒͌ņ̵͌̅ ̶̨̛f̷̻͓͌̈́r̶̝̞͝o̸͈̯̚n̷̨̓̿ț̷̜̎ ̸͘͜o̷̖͛̉f̸͓͕͠͝ ̸̢̪̐̉m̶̧͌e̴̪̫̊.̴̧͓̋ ̸̳̏M̴̲͔͆ȧ̴̬͝k̸̢͙̿̚e̸͚͗ ̸̜͛̀e̴̘͗y̵̭̣͒ë̶̗̹ ̴̄ͅc̶͛ͅo̵̢̊ǹ̴̢̒t̸̩̗͂̂a̶̤͖͑̓c̸̗͒t̶̟̫͝ ̸͖͓̓́w̵̮̍i̶͈͋͐t̵̢͒h̷̺̅ ̴̡̭͆̾m̷̧̦͝ȩ̸̏͝ ̶͇͗w̸̩̺̑ẖ̵̈ě̸̢̲̈́ṋ̵̨͛͌ ̸̭̹̈́ỵ̶̡͂o̴̻͔̓̕u̴̠͗̄ ̶͈̘̀̄d̸̹̈́̋ö̸̭͎́ ̴͙͗̔i̵̜͋t̸̻͒̚ͅ.̵̨̇̊ ̸̖͋Ḯ̷̪̝͐'̷̨̲̌̈l̸̲͊͠l̶͎͓̆́ ̶͓̈́̔ĺ̸̞̣̇o̸̜̐͠v̷̙̕ĕ̷̲͆ͅ ̸͓͚̽̐e̸̖̎̏v̶̼͊e̶͛͜ȓ̷̲́y̶̗̯̌ ̷̻̠̔s̷͓͋ȩ̴̫̏̄c̷̖̗̽͝o̷͗͒ͅn̵̺͉̏d̷̝̫͐ ̵͎̱͌͊o̴̢̱̐f̸͇͍̈ ̷̞͙̿͘i̵̫͗͝t̴͙͆͗ͅ.̷̘͍͛ ̷̱̯̾I̷̙̱͂̊'̷̳̜̆l̵̞̋̎l̴̖̈ ̶̫̾ͅs̴̪̫̕a̵͇͂͠v̵̤̙͗̾ẽ̶̢̫̉ ̴̘̏t̸͚̑̏h̶̙̗́a̶̹̅t̵͎̍͋ ̶̗̕̕m̴͇͖̀e̸̺̬̽̿m̶͕̮̈́ö̸͔͘r̵̯͓̈́ẙ̷͓͂,̸̮͍́͗ ̶̣͆̍ṗ̴͎͝l̸̮̇ă̸ͅy̷̝͝͠ ̶̢͗͐i̶͙͚͒t̸̥̞̒ ̷̛̼̽o̴̱̍v̸̪͔̑̉ě̶̖ṛ̵̣̏ ̷̻̀̓a̵̗̍͠n̶̞̰̅d̷̮̽ ̷̜̇͋ỏ̷̘v̶̟́è̷̪r̶͔̣̍ ̶̪͛e̴̻͌͘v̵͇̋̀e̴̪̕̕r̶̟̍y̵̨̺̿͑ ̴͎̩̃n̶̓́͜ï̸͖̮̀g̴͈̀͝ḣ̸͖̄ͅt̴͕͊͑,̵̩͎̈́ ̴̙̱̅͘j̴̡̹̇̃u̴̬̯̎s̵̮̤̐́t̷͚̮̚͝ ̸̘̃͘s̶̰̞͛̎ő̶̯͕̆ ̵̗̏̀ͅI̸̝̠̕ ̷̡̌͝c̴̻͚̃a̷̺̥̒́ň̶̢͝ ̶̮͋̄e̵͔͂x̸̻͙͋p̷̥̼̈́e̵̻̎r̷̹̃͛ï̵̳ĕ̶̞̠n̶̲͕̓̈c̶̛̠͗e̵͚̘̓ ̶̞̑͜ì̸̼͚͛t̸̘͍̍ ̶̤͒ā̴̞̊ǵ̵̜͝ả̷̼̱ȋ̶͙̅n̶̙̱͗̇ ̶̱̄ā̸̻̱n̸͚̑̑͜d̸̗͚̋͐ ̴͚͙͛ǎ̸̦̼͘g̵͓̑̈́a̴̛̭͉̅ì̷̲̼n̷̺̟̒̀ ̷̱̱͂̏u̷͙̅̐n̴̢͗̎t̷̛̩͂i̵̛̦̞͐l̶̛ͅ ̷̨̇͝m̵̼̽ỹ̴̡̤̈ ̸̭͗̕b̶͎̕̚r̵̗̆a̶̳̩̒i̴͙̅n̶̙̂ ̶̨͕̈̕c̴̝̔̿a̷̭̅t̴̞̯͘c̸͔̮̔͠h̵̪̽e̷̢̓s̷̭͉͒ ̶̬̆͐f̷̣̅̐ḯ̷͍͕͒r̸̙͑͌e̸̮͝.̷̙̊ ̵̳̈́̔

̵̼̣͓̘͖̼̿̌́͜/̸̨͕͖͙̇̇͂̒̓̐̕͠/̷̨̨̖̦̌̈́̍͌͂͝͝͝ͅ ̸̢̳̟̗̑͆̑̈́̆E̸̩̿̅̓̆̂N̴̨̜̟̱̊Ť̴̡̻̠͂͑̓̾̀͝R̵͉̼͗͐͒̿̂̈́Ẏ̶̢͇̮͓̜͙̲̖̿̌͂́͆̈́ ̶͈̈́͋Ȇ̸͕͖̜̤̬͕͐̈̂͜͜Ņ̷̧̬͓̐͗Ḋ̵̰̬̝̦͓̹̻͐̏͜ ̸̠͓̰̎/̸̨̙̙͙̦̲̼̘͐̏̂͑͛̀/̵̨̢̞̫̻̞̙̾̎͜͠

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// ENTRY ID: TW-00944.g //

// Look outside, Cyrus. Chaos on the streets, smoke in the vents. They’ll call it collapse. I'll look back on this night and call it... an awakening. I'm alive again.

// Let the soft ones weep. Here and now, the future ripping off its mask. Come and see. I’ve never looked better.

// ENTRY END //

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// ENTRY ID: TW-00944.f //

// I’ll admit it. I misjudged a few things. Makarios, for one. Turns out he’s exactly as blunt and predictable as they say. Firing on Dr. Carter? Pathetically transparent. That freak doesn't look before he leaps.

// But now I see it. That rift between us? Maybe it’s always been there. Maybe I’m just finally brave enough to look it in the eyes. What to do... What to do... I wonder if my badge still works in the evidence quarters. I'll give you a hint. Remember that junkie in Fortuna a few months back? The one who thought he was a secret soldier? Slice, slice.

// ENTRY END //

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// ENTRY ID: TW-00944.e //

// Your friend Eisley’s growing on me. She has the cutest freckles. That lean little frame. Those fishnets under her shorts too? Oh, it's a bold look. Distinct. Memorable. That’s how we’ll ID her body.

// And then it’ll be you. If I can’t find you, I’ll make sure you find me. And with a fireside chat, I know how to do it.

// ENTRY END //

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// ENTRY ID: TW-00944.d //

// Hiding now? What do we call that again? Oh, that's right... Cornered. A sentinel and a hophead, holed up in a furniture store. Sounds like the start of a joke. Guess that makes me the punchline.

// Makarios says no guns. That’s fine. I’ve got plans tucked inside other plans, and not even he knows what I have in store. You think Paradisum is just chrome and neon? It’s not. It’s a battlefield. I’ll prove it to you, bone by bone.

// ENTRY END //

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// ENTRY ID: TW-00944.c //

// So, you picked up a little piece of roadkill, huh? Eisley Anwar. She’s cute for a junkie. I thought you had better taste. Then again, you turned me down. Maybe your brain was rotten long before I fired a round through it.

// I see what you’re building. I see the plan taking shape, and it disgusts me. But for now, I’ll keep the white gloves on. When they come off, the first thing these blood-slick hands are wrapping around is your throat.

// ENTRY END //

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// ENTRY ID: TW-00944.b //

// You were never the type to go down quietly. I don’t know what’s worse... Being dead, or hearing every tick of that biological clock in your skull. Let me give it to you straight, partner. It only gets worse from here. The poison eats slowly. Pretty soon, you won’t know neon from midnight, floor from ceiling.

// And still, you’re playing cop. Makarios says you’re a stubborn little bug. Well, I say bugs get crushed beneath a steel-toed boot. End of the rainbow’s coming fast, Cyrus. Let’s see if it was worth the crawl.

// ENTRY END //

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// ENTRY ID: TW-00944.a //

// It never ends with us, does it, Cyrus? Even after the precinct firebombed the Cloaca Black Market, they still drag us back into the rot. Guess we’re just built different. Keep your chin up. Even if this “big score” turns out to be another fairytale, there’s an overtime bonus in it for us. Maybe even a little something extra… if you’re sweet enough.

// Word of advice before we slip into Paradisum’s softer corners, okay? Stay in line. You’ve got that big, bleeding heart. Always trying to go the extra mile, even when the sidewalk ends in a ten-story drop.

// ENTRY END //

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