K R O W E 24th of Searing, Year 123 of the Age of Steel [/googlefont] Keres had been in a piss poor mood all day, starting with the lack of coffee that normally accompanied his morning meal. He had been forced to wake before dawn, neck sore and arm abuzz with needles, unable to get comfortable as M...

K R O W E distracting [/googlefont] Krowe would have rather died than give some speech about some cause he didn't give a fuck about, and to people, he cared even less for. Suffering was just a part of life. What did it matter if the victims happened to be a group of people or even an entire city? A...

K R O W E designing [/googlefont] Keres leaned back in the tired arm chair and rubbed his eyes till his vision blurred. Before him was a stack of documents picked up from the OIR, Office of Imperial Revenue, its front page titled with print so bold it bordered on threatening: PUBLICATION 17 . Imper...

K R O W E fighting [/googlefont] The room smelled of sweat, blood and cigar smoke. "Wrap your hands," Drake grunted, crouching to heft up the punching bag and hang it from the hook hanging from the industrial beam above, the chain clattering and scraping against the metal. He made easy wo...

K R O W E designing [/googlefont] Lunch ended. The day progressed. Ten hours, twelve minutes, and one sore body. The upsides of working at the shipping factory was the amount of product one could move and the things one could observe. But his body hurt and he tried not to imagine what another few y...

K R O W E 28 Searing 122 [/googlefont] The boxes came down the line, sliding across the hissing rollers with hands reaching for them like grubby lovers. Labels were slapped and stamped, pushed along to be shipped off to cities the workers had never seen. The warehouse was filled with the chattering...