Jesteśmy społecznością, która kocha książki

I died in that room.
I would be reborn as something else, something terrible.
But I was Alex Sawyer.
And I would have my revenge.

-But who are you? (...)
-Who am I? - he repeated, chewing on the question. - I am the man who made you. I am your father.

But the nectar was a black tar pasted over my old life, onto which the images on screen stuck like feathers. No scrap of memory was spared. Everywhere I looked I saw only aggression, only anger, only death.
And if there is nothing left of you but darkness, how can you not become a monster?

-And some warning would have been nice, - added Zee. - You singed off my eyebrows. - He looked up at me and tried his best to smile - Looks like I'm not the only one.
I raised my hand to my forehead, felt the smooth skin above my eyes, painful to the touch. A quick look at Bodie and I realised that's why he hadn't looked like himself.
-You both look like eggs.

-Yes sir, Mr Rojo-Flores - I replied, snatching the tool from him and ignoring his raised middle fingers - What does that name mean anyway?
-Literally it means "Killer-of those-who-take-the-piss" - he said. - So watch it.
-Means red flowers - corrected Zee.

He was coming for us.
He would find us.
And when he did, there would be all hell to pay.