slaughter on square

The transcription tells a terrifying story of a chaotic and nightmarish scene where a man is desperately running for his life amidst a world filled with infected creatures and horrifying events. He witnesses scenes of violence, chaos, and unimaginable horror as he struggles to survive and find safety. The narrative is filled with vivid descriptions of grotesque creatures, disturbing visuals, and a sense of impending doom. The man's fear and desperation are palpable as he navigates through a nightmarish landscape, encountering unimaginable horrors at every turn. The story culminates in a sense of resignation and acceptance of the inevitable fate that awaits him. A frenzied run. A heart beating in his chest as if he wanted to get out. In his ears there was a throbbing, not only from the beating blood, but from shots from every direction. He was barely breathing. No, he couldn't catch his breath anymore. He couldn't swallow his saliva. His legs seemed to be made of lead. He could barely move them. But he had to run. He had to. With his eyes closed, he ran on. Everything hurt him. He wanted to stop running so badly. He heard screams. Frightening screams that no human being should ever make. And other sounds. Voices. Whispers. Whispers and whispers. He heard them all around and in his own head. In shadows and walls. They whispered to him and shouted together. His teeth hurt. They hurt so much, he felt them. For the first time in his life, he felt all the teeth. Blood flowed from his nose. It was getting dark in his eyes, but he kept running. He turned around painfully. His elbow exploded with pain. When he got up, he saw the evacuation exit. It was so close. Pulling out his hand, he pressed the lever. The land is his salvation. The only salvation. He will escape. He'll survive. Only when the doors opened, he fell to the ground. He looked at the literal apocalypse. A furious crowd tried to break through the thin line of soldiers on the land. A new wave grew behind the sea of people. Infected. They came across screaming, begging, and crying people. A swarm of flies. Large, disgusting insects that almost covered the entire sky. Among this crowd, there were strange, curved creatures. Much taller than people. They were ringing bells. They were beating them, and the crowd was falling into a larger and larger amok. They seemed semi-material. They appeared and disappeared like dancing shadows by the fire. But the more people fell to the ground, the more real they become. A sore, burning rain fell from the clouds. Each exposed fragment of the body was burning with unleading fire. Then the order fell. Fire. A thin line of soldiers, militiamen, and sailors opened fire both on the infected and on the healthy, looking for shelter. They were shooting at everyone. Tears flowed from his eyes when he saw more falling bodies from both sides of the crowd. Thousands of people. Shattering between soldiers and infected monsters. The barrels of guns were already hot from the shots. The soldiers were screaming in fear. Then the infected crowd fell into them. The victims of the plague were the curved wagons. Bubbles, sputum, and open wounds from which flies were flying out and larvae were falling out. A thin line of soldiers broke in a matter of minutes. Beasts and small, laughable monsters ate them, and the infected, with their own nails and teeth, tore the bodies apart. Commissar Caroline was walking on the runway, and her sharp, energetic body was dripping with blood. The body was rumbling and kicking like mud. Her feet had a dozen or so bodies on them, and more were coming. Her once beautiful, green shawl was now in shovels. Her broken left hand was hanging from the side, while she was fighting with the others, clenching her teeth. She was calling out to the other fighters. She was groaning like a wild goddess of war, with a terrible, curved lump of hatred and disgust on her face. Only a moment later, she realized that she was alone, surrounded by a sea of horror. The infected were retreating, and the beasts, big and small, were approaching her from every direction. With a sign of resignation of her face, she straightened up for the last time. Once again, she raised her blades, covering the shawls with a thin layer of blue energy, and she bent her wrists. She took a charmer's stance. She will die as a commissar. She will not beg for mercy. He heard a terrifying laugh, a howling and spitting. A crowd, like a sea, split in two, and there was something going on. Huge. It was something growling, ringing a great bell. It was pulling its own intestines and organs, like a pelerine collecting dirt from the ground. The commissar closed her eyes. She held her breath. Her whole body was covered with angry insects, devouring her skin. She didn't even tremble. It resembled a huge, swollen, gigantic child with many faces and mouths. A long horn was growling from the top of her head. She stood there, a lonely figure. In the past, everyone would be afraid of her, a stern commissar from the last Hope Military School. Now she seemed so tiny, so weak. She was waiting. When something was whittling her reach, she jumped forward without warning, not even letting herself be recognized. Like a snake, she struck something's chest, stabbing her blade deep into the beast's heart. A laugh. It was something laughing, while moods were pouring out of her broken heart. Before she could move anyway, a huge child's hand grabbed her, breaking her ribs, raising her head high like a toy. It was something laughing, and a horde of creatures was going mad. The infected were falling on their knees, rising their priors. The belly of the creature was breaking, and a huge mass appeared in the place of the wound. With a groan, it put the dying commissar inside, licking her with a licking sound. He felt as if he was about to vomit. He didn't have the courage to get out of his hiding place. He looked at it like a rat from a hiding place. Tears flowed from his eyes. He wanted it to be over so badly. Something was pulling him by the pants. Turning around, he saw a creature no bigger than a cat. Her smiling face was full of small, sharp teeth. Small hands and feet were dancing in some kind of dance when she was looking at the scene below. She was wheezing like crazy. When he moved away, something looked at him with disgust, with small, malicious eyes. Then, with an even wider smile, she made a squeak, calling other similar creatures. This began to literally materialize from the shadows and crack-like gloomy walls. Slippery creatures with horns on their heads crawled from the land on the wall. Clouds of flies and other insects took it as a target. Feeling hatred, he kicked the laughing creature, cracking its body against the wall with a nasty splash. She was running like crazy again. On the walls, no, in the walls, there were people screaming, begging him for mercy. They were literally crawling into the building, begging someone to show mercy and kill them, to end their suffering. More corridors, rooms, the same horror everywhere. Everything seemed to be alive. Everything seemed to be laughing, dancing and rejoicing. In the park, infected people were dancing around a huge tree. A tree that had a face giving rhythm to their song. Mothers carried their own cubs, feeding the pasture in the middle. Human faces were growing from the branches, all with a grimace of madness. He saw the same thing everywhere. They were scaring the crowd of healthy people, running wherever they could. Infected people eating healthy people and creatures that simply have no right to exist. Black clouds got red above the governor's building. No, they were the moths of insects. A huge green meadow was laughing wildly in the sky. Even the sky above their heads was infected. It must have been a bad dream, a nightmare. It just couldn't be real. She felt something was holding him by the hand. The twisted middle didn't look like a human face. Maybe it used to be a dog. And now he didn't even know how to describe it. His long tongue was licking at his sight and his clothes were deepening in his hand. He pulled out his gun and shot a few times from the side, seeing how it was falling apart and connecting to his eyes again. The walls behind him were literally starting to move. Everywhere he ran, eyes and hands were growing, wanting to catch him. Hands begging for mercy, as well as those who were smilingly calling for him to join them. Passing the nearest square, he saw that the great warriors in rotten armor were leaning over the fallen T-12 troops sent to them by the Last Hope. They were pulling something out of them, scratching the corpses. He saw how the beautiful red armor was methodically opened with rusty knives, and the bodies were torn apart with dirty fingers. With triumph, one of these warriors carried something small high above his head. Moles. Mucus membranes and eyes grew out of his armor. The rest of the corpses were eaten by small creatures running around everywhere. They were tearing out each other's tasty pieces, turning over and pushing like mischievous children. They didn't stop their play while the servants and monsters were carrying the next T-12 bodies to the warriors. Captain John was nailed to the stone altar, built of a collapsed piece of wall. He was still alive. Despite the terrible wounds, he was still alive. Something was moving in him, literally in him, under his skin. The whole thing was wavering when his body was tearing apart and the scum was pouring out on the floor. A single hand suddenly grew out of his stomach, reaching his fingers towards the sky. A monstrous face was forming from the elbow and the arms. He was running again. He didn't want to. He just didn't want to look at it any longer. So that's how those who came to help him ended up. Basements. If he gets there, then maybe... Exactly. What? Why would he need a weapon? What would he do with it? What's the point of running any further? Everyone here will die and be devoured. Tears were running down his face. Just a few meters behind him, dozens of paths were stumbling. Shortening the distance, he really wanted to give up. He wanted to stop and die. But he was afraid. He was so afraid. His own suffocating body, the lack of oxygen, forces him to keep running. It was getting dark in his eyes. He saw the entrance to the basement. Too far. It was the end. He didn't want to run anymore. He had had enough. He wanted to die. But he was so afraid of death. He was afraid that instead of death, he would join those who were suspended between him and life. Those in the walls. And those dancing. Fall! A cry was heard. His own body made the order. Immediately. Without assassination. Just as they had been teaching him for years. The roll of the cannonade of shots lasted a long time. From the window and the door of the building several people were constantly shooting. Until the chasing, laughing, arrogant creature stops moving. After all, two people with plasma blowguns ran out, covering everything with a blue flame. They burned the bodies, from which a cloud of green flies was flying out. But are you alive? I thought. Yes, I am. The lieutenant will let me catch my breath. The effect of avoiding training, senior officer. Running in a circle and jumping is not for my age anymore, Wolf. You're not even thirty, you fool. And now focus. What about the forces of crystal arbalists? What about the pool's elites? He looked at her expressively. Then, whispering, so that others would not hear him, he answered briefly. They couldn't do it. The inner square became their last resort. They defended themselves to the end. The landing site collapsed, similarly the quarters and the governor's building. I have no idea what about the port warehouses, but I heard from fugitives that something comes out of the water thousands, so it's the same everywhere. Yesterday, I saw the street literally devouring the tank and its crew. No, it's not a metaphor. The street devoured arbalists. It is said that wolves have ears, but eyes and other parts of the body are an exaggeration, and those flies, they are literally everywhere. They come out of the livings and the bed. Get inside. We have to barricade ourselves and figure out what to do. Do you suggest we have a way out? There is always a way out. He looked at her for the first time. Yes, she really looked. Her once dark, mahogany skin was now pale, and her lips cracked. The sides of her head were covered with a bandage from which something flowed. It smelled bad. There were about 20 people inside, including a few civilians. A young woman was sitting in the corner of a room with a usually pale complexion and scarlet-purple eyes. She was wearing a long, richly decorated dress in a gold and blue color. And who was she, he asked, pointing his finger at the wiggling woman. Her good, awful height. Lady, her mother, a navigator from respectable doghouse of the Lorento House. We were supposed to escort her to the governor's building so that he could evacuate. I lost almost all my company to get her out of the cage. But without the ship, the navigator is now rather less than more useful to us. And what about the cathedral? What about it? Well, have you found the element of faith in yourselves? I think it's a bit too late for that. I'm talking about the fact that messenger with relics has recently arrived. Do you want to get them back? I don't think they would help us much. To hell with those relics. The wheel, you know, the wheel they are flying around. She arrived there as a small carrier. She can still be there. With a navigator, she can make it. It's far away. True. But it's better than dying here. Actually, I've already parted with life, you know. And here I suddenly feel so eager to hold on to it a little longer. Gather the people. I will tell you what and how. Can I count on you not to break? Of course. Have I ever thought about it? He answered, brushing his teeth. They set off under the cover of night. They didn't even leave the square in front of the barracks when they realized something. They were surrounded. Frightening, curved creatures came out of the darkness, laughing and dancing at their sight. Behind them, thousands, countless thousands, the sea of infected people was laughing. And their lips were cracking. And their jaws were dropping. Tears were flowing from their eyes, but they were still laughing, dancing, aiming in every direction. They clashed into a tight group. Don't you dare move. There's a tunnel at the end of the rainbow. We will break through and run through the channels. She recommended lifting her plasma gun. She didn't want to show that she was afraid. If it breaks, everyone will break. Squeak, cry and whine. The navigator wheezed like a little child. Her third eye literally pulls in front of her. Her fingers bent and broke as if some invisible force was playing with them. In a trance, she ran in front of her without direction, without purpose. She just ran. A huge beast that had previously eaten the commissioner grabbed the running navigator, raising her childlike hand high, then hit her body against the concrete floor. One, two, three. Only a bloody cover remained of the body. A red sack of broken bones. The rest of the monsters began to laugh. They were beating madly with bells, hundreds of bells and bells like some horror parade. Last hope, save us, said one of the ranks, falling on his knees. His hands slowly folded in prayer. It's not time for that now. On your feet, Tyler, and fight. The last hope will protect those who fight for his cause. He was still prying. His tears flowed from his eyes. They felt a strange smell then, not rot and death. They had felt it since the beginning of the infection, the smell of sulfur and burning. In the darkness of the night, the flames appeared. A few at first. The beast interrupted their dance and stopped ringing and ringing. They looked fascinated at the strange phenomenon equally surprising as the group of survivors. The little loving monsters approached the flames, pulling out his hand with gloves. A few armored legs crushed him to the ground, when a warrior appeared from the flames covered in bones and burning. The crowd of beasts and infected people was in a frenzy when new warriors appeared among them, equally terrifying as the grotesque avatars of the plague. But in black, burned armor with long-lost symbols of belonging. Naked skulls instead of heads. Pure hatred came out of their burned eyes. Fiery aureoles of hellfire. Their very presence made their hearts freeze for a moment. Heavy, bruised chains pulled behind them, like behind convicts. When in silence, they set out to the sea of monstrous beasts and infections. Then they began to murder, mercilessly, without hestination, all the infected monsters, demons, and begging for mercy of the innocent participants of the monstrous parade. Their burning blades carried a terrifying death in a cry of unparalleled agony. The love and joy of the monsters turned into a furious roar when they attacked. A monstrous fight ensued, literally like from the descriptions of the apocalypse. One of the phenomena was always covered by the wave of infected people. Thousands of knives and teeth pierced the black armor. The fiery warriors disappeared, only to reappear right behind them and start the fight again. And they, a small group of survivors, stood there in the middle of the square, watching as some monsters clashed with others. They could not understand what was actually going on here. After an hour, it was all over. The scorched earth and the smoking remains of the monsters' bodies, the monstrous fiery spirits had just finished finishing off those who remained. Then, they disappeared without a word. They simply disappeared in the air, as if they were never here. They could not believe in their own happiness. They were seized. No, they were seized.