I am part of its seething, putrid fabric. Here, I am a God!
Hee... Go ahead, old friends! Go on! Try and transform him into your savior, your protector. It's too late! The chemical burns. They've ruined his flesh. Blocked his body from you. I know flesh. Heee... And his belongs to us. To the Rot.
To have decay, first you must have death-- or so I then believed. Murder seemed an appropriate way to pay tribute to the Parliament. It was simply a bonus that these activities coincided with my own interests so neatly.
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