The walls… they’re alive aren’t they?Breathing in every shot fired, every siren’s scream. This place isn’t like the open fields. Here, angles multiply. too many eyes buried in the bricks. Watching. Always WATCHING.

Tonight, the blocks are silent. Too silent. Death’s waiting… down by the tracks. Always on the wrong side.

Earlier, I saw a prospect. Blue coat. Eyes—big, green, curious. You wouldn’t think they could sneak in, but they do. The tell-tales... like an invisible cloak. They think we’re blind.

WE SEE EVERYTHING.

The way shadows stretch and twist. The way light dies slow on the dirty snow. That’s the real map. Not the one they broadcast—the big circle with lines. No. This one…This one’s etched in blood. The very air still hums with the last battle’s ghosts.

You gotta learn to listen past the traffic, past the sirens. To the silence beneath it all. That’s where the real treasures lie…

YOU’RE NOT LISTENING!

She had eyes like city lights after a storm—fractured, reflecting everything but never really seeing you. Just a blur in the background… Said she was my shelter. My safe place… but shelters have radios. And doors that don’t quite lock. She walked the line—one foot in, one foot out. Like the Feds across the street… you never know which window they’re watching from.

She called me her “Guardian Angel.” Said I cleared the path. Always. And I did. Walked through smoke and treacherous land just to get to—her. Felt like I had a purpose. Something worth fighting for. More than status, more than accolades…

Then she vanished. Without warning. MIA. Just like that.

Enemy moves in. Cold, dirty, sneaky—the bugs again.

She’d say, “Mars, you’re always… WATCHING.” Someone has to. But was she the threat… or the target? I never knew. NEVER.

OUROBOROS—the predator and the prey.

YOU’RE NOT LISTENING!

Those moments… when the wire went quiet just before the score dropped. When she looked at me soft, just for a second—the static vanished. That’s the payday. Not the crumpled bills, not the flash of chrome. It’s that glimmer of something else. A block that’s more than sirens and shadows. A future where we can’t be confined.

Sometimes diamonds hide in the rubble, sometimes broken pieces get polished. She was like that—left scars no one else could stitch. But sometimes… she left a cache. A spark. Just enough to light the next smoke, keep you moving. Makes you believe the next war will be different.

It’s brilliant, isn’t it? That clarity. That focus. That dim little light… turns into a blazing ray of hope.

That’s the real trophy. That’s why you stay in the field. Why you run straight into the battle.

The promise glows brighter than all the stones in the cosmos.

You’re not listening.

You’re not listening.

YOU’RE NOT LISTENING—HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH…

The walls… they’re alive aren’t they?Breathing in every shot fired, every siren’s scream. This place isn’t like the open fields. Here, angles multiply. too many eyes buried in the bricks. Watching. Always WATCHING.

Tonight, the blocks are silent. Too silent. Death’s waiting… down by the tracks. Always on the wrong side.

Earlier, I saw a prospect. Blue coat. Eyes—big, green, curious. You wouldn’t think they could sneak in, but they do. The tell-tales... like an invisible cloak. They think we’re blind.

WE SEE EVERYTHING.

The way shadows stretch and twist. The way light dies slow on the dirty snow. That’s the real map. Not the one they broadcast—the big circle with lines. No. This one…This one’s etched in blood. The very air still hums with the last battle’s ghosts.

You gotta learn to listen past the traffic, past the sirens. To the silence beneath it all. That’s where the real treasures lie…

YOU’RE NOT LISTENING!

She had eyes like city lights after a storm—fractured, reflecting everything but never really seeing you. Just a blur in the background… Said she was my shelter. My safe place… but shelters have radios. And doors that don’t quite lock. She walked the line—one foot in, one foot out. Like the Feds across the street… you never know which window they’re watching from.

She called me her “Guardian Angel.” Said I cleared the path. Always. And I did. Walked through smoke and treacherous land just to get to—her. Felt like I had a purpose. Something worth fighting for. More than status, more than accolades…

Then she vanished. Without warning. MIA. Just like that.

Enemy moves in. Cold, dirty, sneaky—the bugs again.

She’d say, “Mars, you’re always… WATCHING.” Someone has to. But was she the threat… or the target? I never knew. NEVER.

OUROBOROS—the predator and the prey.

YOU’RE NOT LISTENING!

Those moments… when the wire went quiet just before the score dropped. When she looked at me soft, just for a second—the static vanished. That’s the payday. Not the crumpled bills, not the flash of chrome. It’s that glimmer of something else. A block that’s more than sirens and shadows. A future where we can’t be confined.

Sometimes diamonds hide in the rubble, sometimes broken pieces get polished. She was like that—left scars no one else could stitch. But sometimes… she left a cache. A spark. Just enough to light the next smoke, keep you moving. Makes you believe the next war will be different.

It’s brilliant, isn’t it? That clarity. That focus. That dim little light… turns into a blazing ray of hope.

That’s the real trophy. That’s why you stay in the field. Why you run straight into the battle.

The promise glows brighter than all the stones in the cosmos.

You’re not listening.

You’re not listening.

YOU’RE NOT LISTENING—HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH…