First impressions matter -- the person responsible for the design of this journal knows that.

Queen-in-waiting.

Beasts rendered ridiculous. Grotesque trophies.

These are knock offs. Fakes.

These are... not that. They're knock offs. Fakes.

THE 'PLUSHIE' ENCOURAGES BOUTS OF 'SUBJECTIVE IMAGINATION' IN THE YOUNG COMMUNIST, UNGROUNDED BY MATERIAL FACT.

Plushie #3 has shredded the social contract.

Plushie #3 will bite down on the neck of the world and fuck it 'til it howls.

Plastic eyes teeming in the dark.

A hundred strong. If only they could move as öne.

SUPPLEMENTARY PROPAGANDA, LOVINGLY COMMITTED TO MEMORY.

Sixty-six... like the wolves?

It's suddenly clear why, of all their programming, the Luzians seem so eager to push the cartoon through the Culture Blockade.

She smiles at you again, but her eyes are cold.

True fanatic detected. Be careful what you say, and how you say it.

This is the Luzian version -- sanitised and brimming with valour.

The heavily applied paint gives off a petroleum smell that sticks to the back of your mouth.

A shrine to possibility -- a shrine, perhaps, to right now.

THE PATHOLOGICAL NOSTALGIA OF FASCISM: A CONTRADICTION SO GREAT THAT IT DRIVES THEM TO CRAVE A PAST THAT IS NOT ONE.

The Raposeira -- Iron War Queen of the Luzian naval fleet.

They are all complicit -- from the most insignificant enlisted sailor to the top admirals.

Red... black... terror... she sips upon her majesty, TYRANT WOLF.

Tyrant Wolf. This paled woman will offer little resistance -- you could rip it out of her hands this moment.

Your hackles rise. She sips on Tyrant Wolf.

Well-built, Luzian accent. Strategically positioned near the phone. He's one of the Lich's guards.

A dramatic change in her voice. It seems the two of you may share an interest.

Listen to her -- dripping. You do have it!

Fucking sneak attack!! Deception and wiles!!

It's a flesh wound. But still, ow!

Fuck yes. Fuck yes!

That was not a rhetorical question and she's ready to be very angry at the wrong answer.

Ooh -- that's sarcasm. You can tell by the longitudinal waves.

Crusted blood around the bottom of his moustache.

Leave him at it. You're starting to feel icky.

THE BITTER ICHOR OF POVERTY.

The gall! She who toils and sweats, while the vending automaton does nothing but dispense cheerfully, uncaringly, and at a significant price markup.

SOLIDARITY MUST BECOME PRAXIS.

FEEL NO REMORSE IF YOU CHOOSE TO STEAL FROM IT, FOR IT IS STEALING FROM THE PEOPLE.

The Treffe School of psychoanalysis is known to be the most 'experimental' in the so-called Developed World.

Not even the faintest tick from within -- the ancient payload is keeping your secrets close.

A glass chandelier on fraying rope.

Kinda cool. But is that all you are, CASCADE? Kinda cool?

Those pop-head teenagers wanted glitter? Give them tabloid grime. Heartbreak on private jets. Tonguing a dictator and suing your label on the same day. Put on the fur, smile never -- watch them kneel.

This is it -- our comeback tour coat. Post-scandal. Post-overdose. Post-prison. Portofiro 96, baby. Half the crowd dies, the other half name their kids after you.

Secondhand olds and newish fakes.

Fashion has a short memory, anything worn long enough to have been faked is already ancient.

Your heart convulses at their mention.

The dockworkers must have had more information on him. Find out what you can, if there are Weeping Eye here, you need to know why.

The Weeping Eye do not care about knock-off toys. If they're here then something is happening levels above her head.

You're familiar with the coat -- this is the man who tailed you through the bazaar.

Checks