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About Newcastle

I’d start online—dark web shit, Telegram groups. Locals call ‘em “nochnye babochki”—night butterflies, poetic innit? But it pisses me off—half these sites are scams! Some twat took my mate’s cash, left him wankin’ in a hostel. Me? I’m smarter, I drink and I know things. I’d scope the X posts—blokes braggin’ ‘bout their “catch,” droppin’ hints. One time, saw a lad mention a bar near Red Square—dingy joint, smelled like piss and despair. Found a girl there, tho—eyes like the Anatolia hills, “quiet as a shadow.” Paid her double, ‘cause I’m a gent, ha!

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After that, I decided to stroll down to the canal. The views there are stunning, especially on a sunny day. I was just soaking it all in, thinking about my game’s storyline. But then, I saw this group of kids playing by the water. They were throwing stones, and I was like, “Dude, be careful!” But of course, one of them slips and falls right in. I gasped, but then he pops up, laughing like a maniac. Kids are wild, man.

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