Monday, January 19, 2015


Organs in jars packed tightly into a warehouse the size of Texas. Discreetly they are brought in and occasionally brought out. Black cars with tinted windows enter the underground car park and exit hours later. Even with a detailed cataloguing system, it takes some time to find the exact organ that the masters require. And it must be exact. It is said that certain mercenary forces have plotted to rob the warehouse, or simply fire bomb it in an act of malicious torment toward their enemies. But this is just idle dreaming. The security, the lasers, the dogs bred from birth for one purpose, they are but a tiny portion of the security that keeps this place sacrosanct. It is the will of the masters, the feeling force they emanate, the need they have to keep the precious organs available at all times, that makes it so.

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