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Funny tho – buddy told me ‘bout this chick, “masseuse” with a wink, slipped him a happy endin for 20 creds. Laughed my helmet off – “skillful hands,” my ass! Sarcasm aside, it’s a craft, not just smut. Haneke’d prob film it all moody, close-ups on sweaty necks. “It’s too much,” she’d cry – overdone oil, tacky music, total mood-kill. Me? I’d crank the dark side, keep it intense, no cheesy crap. What’s your take, kid? You into that rub-a-dub life?

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First off, I roll into Antratsyt, and it’s like, what’s up with the traffic on Shchorsa Street? I mean, c’mon! I’m just trying to get to the market. I’m stuck behind this old Lada that’s moving slower than molasses. I’m like, “Dude, it’s not a Sunday drive!”

Armed Formations in the Secessionist ‘Luhansk Republic’ (Part Three)