Your shirt sticks to your chest. The shoulders of your disco blazer grow heavy. The cold finds its way in under your skin. You shiver, and the city shivers with you.
Physique
Before thought effects; other dialogue conditions may apply.
711 · Voice lines
Your shirt sticks to your chest. The shoulders of your disco blazer grow heavy. The cold finds its way in under your skin. You shiver, and the city shivers with you.
Hallways collapsed from the mortar hits of a war that was lost long ago. Clotheslines go to waste in the rain. Radios play.
More coalition aerostatics. Way up there -- where rain forms -- rotors flutter silently. Your sight clears.
You shudder, looking down at your feet. Dirty rainwater runs veins into the plaza snow.
Urban coastline, rain dripping off eternite-covered roofs. Cinder blocks left over from half-finished construction. A defunct research and development building once seized by revolutionaries. An old wooden church stands on stilts above the water.
The skyscrapers of La Delta, the financial district. Faint golden light seeps from the office windows.
Humid. Your coat shields you from the rain while the city shivers around you.
Coalition aerostatics hang like apparitions under the cloud cover. Way up there -- where rain forms -- rotors flutter silently. Your sight clears.
Capeside apartments -- tower blocks crowd one another, 4.46 mm bullets still lodged in their war-torn stone walls.
You realize you have no shoes on. Your feet are red with cold.
Your shirt sticks to your chest. The shoulders of your jacket grow heavy. The cold finds its way under your skin. You shiver, and the city shivers with you.
A yard. Rain falls onto the roof of a woodshed. Filthy water pools around a body. Droplets of rain slip from the dead man's cold cheeks.
Your shirt sticks to your chest. The cold finds its way under your skin. You shiver, and the city shivers with you.