The Little Prince in the Ossuary

# Peep show grey (1)

“Hey."

A Marine sergeant impresses a seagull.

“Get lost, you bird-head whore. Before you shoot him. ”

The red beak is not afraid. Instead of running away, he yells at the humans. Quite a bit! Food! A threatening bird. Its wingspan is close to a meter. The sergeant looks at it with a ridiculous eye. Then I pulled out my pistol. Bam! Blood spattered. It was a street I couldn't miss.

The sky is noisy. The seagulls, surprised by the gunfire, scatter in droves. A feather flies in the wind. It began to fall in front of the winter, towards the gray sea city.

A murky voice came from the radio.

[First Sentry Post. Something wrong?]

After watching the winter, the Marine Sergeant replies.

“No. I only shot one seagull. ”

[Damn it, don't make me nervous.]

“I'm sorry.”

As the transmission progresses, the scattered birds fly again. Towards the dead. CIA operations headquarters, a myriad of seagulls occupied the upper mast of the anchored freighter.

It's not the heat of memorial. An argument. The red beaks have torn off the dead seagulls. Competitive rough postures shatter flesh and intestines. My ears ache at the sound of smashing. They were selfish wings trying to push each other away. The mask near the radar was narrow. Dozens climbed, hundreds roaming constantly quarrelling. The red beak flares open and threatens each other.

Humanity wasn't the only thing feeding humans. Winged residents in the San Francisco metropolitan area suffered from an unprecedented hunger as the plague spread. Hunger breeds madness. Frenzied Flying Beasts have learned about the frenzy of Humans. First I ate byproducts, then I took charge of the benefits of the frenzy. The problem was that there were humans in the by-products left behind by Humans.

“I'd like to shoot them all. ”

Sarge grumbles over the radio. Winter remained formal, knowing that it would not shoot.

“Stop it, Wolf. The next workers will be bothered. ”

More bodies will attract more janitors. It'll be quiet for now.

Winter was on guard duty with Marine sergeant. Here, at the hypothesis post on the mast height, you could see the southern half of the San Francisco Bay when the clock was good.

‘Do we have to wait a little longer for the full mission……. ’

After arriving here, ten days passed after the End of Days. Three more days after the adaptive week of testing. However, there are still no external missions.

The biggest reason was the White Skull itself, which belonged to winter. It looks like you lost a lot on your previous mission. It's gonna be on guard and patrol for a while.

It was a little strange from day one. Captain Fowler has been watching all day. The commander of the Special Forces, who participated in the covert operation, was not that relaxed. It's a refutation that we need backup.

It was better. Patrol, or sticky duty, was an opportunity to bond with existing personnel. I even paired them up above with the intent to do so. New stages, new people. Winter found out one by one. Staff Sergeant Dwayne Wolfe was one of them.

“Look. The guerrillas. Another public execution. This is the third time today. ”

The sergeant points south. Winter with telescope. I see the birds first. He was flying low to see if he was expecting a feast. Below, the blood-soaked deck is red. The likelihood of those who are about to die. Traces of torture remain open. His hands were tied behind his back. Armed black men kneel before the condemned. A saliva pops out of the mouths of those near to death. I can't hear anything. It was hard to read lips.

There was no mercy to cover my eyes. I didn't even use a gun. I just cut my belly open with a knife. No solemnity, no splendor, no madness. It's more like a routine slaughter. Survivors of the shivering. Skin black enforcers put their hands in the bellies of the condemned and scraped off their intestines. Sprinkle. Swarms of birds spill.

That's why Sergeant Wolf didn't stop him when he shot the seagull.

“Is it true what they say? ”

The question of winter, the sergeant snorts.

“I don't know, and I don't want to know. whether it's true or not, there's no reason for me to justify anything crazy. Bastards worse than the Taliban. We have to kill them all. ”

I feel contempt.

Black guerrillas. Armed black people call themselves that.

Winter used to hear statements sprinkled with pirate frequencies.

The reason for the execution was revenge. There was racism during the San Francisco evacuation. Disaster authorities prioritized evacuation of the wealthy whites, leaving the poor black behind.

Therefore, the victims are usually white people. It was not necessarily a principle to be kept. Other races are often sacrificed. One of the dead was black.

Glug glug. The sound of bowel distortion. Turns out Sergeant Wolf is sweeping the ship. When winter looked, he blushed and embarrassed.

“I'm sorry. Blood pressure's rising, and I'm getting a signal. I've never done this before. ”

“Goodbye. I don't think anything will happen in a while. ”

“Eh……. I don't think it's going to be a while. ”

“I can't help it. This is your chance, isn't it? ”

Sergeant who is even more embarrassed in front of the smiling winter. But no thanks. I'll be back soon. I'll take the ladder down, leaving a note. The sliding speed was dangerously fast.

He had constipation. You don't tell yourself, but your colleagues tease you maliciously. “Wolf. How long are you going to eat?” Many times in front of winter. The sergeant was angry every time.

Did he say he'd never eaten an apple before? ’

It wasn't very new. It was an archetype for the poor American.

This was the second time he served together, but Winter was able to hear many stories about his childhood, because the shameful sergeant was enthusiastic about his defense.

“The neighborhood I grew up in had no stew shops. The only restaurant was McDonald's.”

Food desert. Wherever I went, there was basically street violence between people with no money and fresh food in countries where I had to drive.

It was also easy for poor parents to be indifferent to their children. Children who grew up between indifference and poverty were emptied in many ways. The winter's past empathized with Sergeant's childhood.

“I enlisted because I didn't like being hungry. It was probably his seventeenth birthday. The woman who gave birth said, If you're not going to school, go to the army. I said yes. I'm going to the Marines. It looked cool. It was crazy. I think it's the best decision of my life right now. ”

It was often like this. Legitimate boy soldiers, the face of shame in America. A myriad of heroes have fallen from the battlefield. It was also the basis on which winter could be respected.

White sergeant, who was difficult to defeat vegetables, was the darkness of a rebuilt past.

Winter turned on the portable radio.

Good deeds are good, but you cannot force them.

A familiar voice came out in a few days. He was one of the Republican nominees. As he listens to his heat, Winter once again looks at the execution. The dead are covered in flaps. A terrible Wind Wind. The Black guerrilla territory is about 200 ships large and small. The execution took place on the tallest bow. Fear was a means of domination.

There are many people who weep and mourn the plight of refugees. But ask them. How much can you pay specifically to help refugees? The amount they say will soon be the price of their conscience. I actually talked to a lot of people who opposed me. It turned out they were very cheap. just like me.

Excitement and laughter erupt from the speakers.

Winter's gaze followed one seagull. For some reason, he is flying away from the others. The gliding figure reminds me of Jonathan Livingston. A seagull's dream. It's an old book I read when I was a kid. It was literally a beautiful dream to transcend the limits of hard work. because that was the boy's hope.

It's a faded tale now.

His beak was red.

On the radio, there was still a red voice speaking.

Honestly, I am a cheap and vulgar person. But some things can only be done by vulgar people. for example, cutting the budget for refugee support and reinforcing refugee relief.

Excitement explodes once again. All I could hear was the sound, but the enthusiasts must have worn shabby clothes. I would see their hopes with dry eyes.

In the place where the seagull falls, there is one old man. Yeah, I can hear it in my eyes. Audiences from other worlds were excited. It was just a while ago when I thought it was boring. They were the ones who had to watch the execution. Cruelty itself could be a sport.

The old man struggles in battle. It was a starving movement. An old shirt had a wet stain. Meanwhile, the seagull rises, drawing a parabola. Blood flows from the freshly red beak and soaks the white trunk.

"Of course, President McMillen's refugee policy is not just wrong. The proof is our hero, Lieutenant in the middle of winter.

“ ……. ”

But I will ask you this: Who else is there? One hero cannot justify a $52 billion budget! I'd rather give that hundredth to an individual hero! I'm not kidding. Last year, the best pitchers in the Major League signed a $210 million contract. But our boy hero gets his first lieutenant in the Army! Does this make sense? Is lieutenant in the middle of winter worse than a baseball player? No, I'm also a fan of that player, but I can answer decisively. Absolutely not! What about you? So tell me, what's your answer?

No, no, no! No, I'm not!

Listen to your voice! This is the American cry!

Oh, wow.

In the midst of cheer, seagulls take a peak in ascension. I turned around and started the second descent. It's accelerating. Approximately 60 knots measured in the eye by sensory correction. Birds that drop at more than 100 kilometers per hour pass through the old man's feeble struggle.

Cloudy sunset skies. Fog is crawling in the horizontal direction. The winter I was thinking about raised my gun before it was too late. Heave-ho. It was a heavy sniper rifle at the post. The object is not made to shoot people. It was a weapon that could pierce the messy hull and destroy the body inside.

I couldn't help it. It was a long way to go with a pistol or a rifle. Although it was not difficult to see the superhuman realm, the estimated distance was 1.2 kilometers.

Winter draws the sniper rifle into his arms. Tightly squeeze the cranium into front of your shoulders. You spread an embossed canopy under the barrel of a gun and walked on the post rail. The cheek touches the reinforced polymer holder.

"Lieutenant in the middle of winter, for example, those who oppose me are clearly mistaken. Because no one likes a lieutenant like me in the middle of winter! Dammit! I'm your first fan! And I promise you this. If I become president, I will definitely treat war heroes! The chief clerk of the Senate gets 172,500 dollars a year, and the chief of staff who struggles to protect the politicians who just eat together every day gets 172,500 dollars a year. I can't bear to give anything more to lieutenant in the middle of winter!

The race candidate sold the name of winter all he wanted. Winter I just reduced the volume. You interrupt. The bird chirps are loud, but the noise is intense.

Correct the pose and aim again.

Seagulls were not a rapture. It's hard to hunt people. Therefore, aggressive flight was repeated like clockwork. However, the width of the round trip is gradually decreasing. Like measuring the time left in an old man.

But the radio, the low whisper, sounded even clearer.

Shall I repeat? Virtue that is not realistically possible is malicious in killing everyone! We cannot offer universal relief to 7 million refugees in this situation! Only those who truly qualify should reach out to those who deserve help!

Winter read the wind from the old man's clothing. Shirts like splashes are swayed and swayed by the wind. The distinction between the two was a calibrated sensation.

Boom!

A rifle explodes from another dimension. Winter watched the stained bird glide. Teaming, ting, ting. Only then did a seagull explode when a bullet as thick as a finger rolled up the bottom of the post.

The old man covered in the blood of a flying beast was startled. The sprayed feathers come down like snow, clinging to the shivering old man.

Cancan. Climbing up ladders in a hurry.

“What's going on?! Are you sure this is the right time?! ”

Sergeant Wolf was a nervous wreck. Winter responded unevenly.

“No, I just shot a seagull. ”

The radio demanded a sitrep. Winter gave me the same answer, and I took a lot of insults. You are the realm of liberation. What if I misled the attack on this side and countered it?

It was a winter I would have to understand, but I didn't think about it. I just said:

“I'm sorry."

Shortly after, the fog rises to the south of the bay. A fog of gray with a mixture of fumes that burns less refined oil. I wore a gas mask for a while. Visibility decreases dramatically, making the boundaries meaningless. The situation room ordered a return.

Artwork Reviews

# Seagulls

For those of you who feel that seagulls are not very persuasive about attacking people, I'm going to leave you with a YouTube link in your artwork settings.

But don't look at it. Disgusting.

# 570x

The average annual salary for minor league players is about KRW 8 million.

The average annual salary for major league players is about 4.58 billion KRW.

It's roughly 570 times different.

# Q&A

Q. Nesstor: @ k... The healing...///shit//context is beautiful. This is a real paperback, and you have to sweep every letter out of your hand to read it -- the textbook, the true story.

A. I originally started writing as an adult fairy tale, but I disagree with the appearance. Nine-sex textbook. Put your legs on your conscience and say that again.

Q. GreenTurtle: @ Can you arbitrarily influence the progress of Operation AI in the winter games?

A. Limitations apply. It is not possible to decide the odds in favour of winter. Not in terms of ability, but in terms of rules.

Q. PAM: The action of the brain when a natural death process occurs in @ humans. And compare the activity of the brain during the natural death process in the stroke.

A. Overdemanding... writers are stupid...

Q. Xyno: @ Writer! Where should I sprinkle remaining coupons? Do you want to sprinkle it on Bamumbyol or on the Ossuary?

A. Lead... the wind and the stars.

Phew... I protected your sympathy...