Editing Hackforsatan19 (section)

===You can't do this.===
[https://plague.infect.site/?contaminant=2AB5ADAD3ABCE95878E42FB684B31F84BD78CE81D533434F05162B870121627B Link]
<div class="toccolours mw-collapsible mw-collapsed" style="overflow:auto;">
<pre>
"I just need..." you say, sucking at this. "Just gotta go let the 'ol BF know we've got a deal and then..."
"No, you don't." His head stops bobbing and his smile flatlines, and the abruptness of it fucks you up. Like when the dryer stops spinning just as you're drifting off to sleep, or when the power goes out in the middle of a late-night movie. That startling, disarming jolt of absence.
And then, just as suddenly, it all comes back. He's smiling wide--wider even--and he says, "Look, I know there's nobody in the alley back there."
You should be running. You should AT LEAST be looking for a direction to run. But you're frozen, staring. WHAT ARE YOU (NOT) DOING?!?
"It's okay!" he says, putting his hands up, palms out, shoulders limp, leaning back, clearly reading your FUCKING OBVIOUS FACE. "Don't worry! I'm not trying to... Look, you know what I want, and I know what you want, and it's a fair exchange, right? I'm not... I'm a family man, okay? I just, uh, need a little something every now and then. But I'm just a normal guy, I swear!"
You wanna tell him, Yeah dude. That's kinda what I'm afraid of. 
Save that shit for your blog. GOD! Just shit or get off the pot and let your fucking cat die in a pool of nightmare diarrhea. Just run. Dead girls can't drive to the vet. Yeah, but broke girls can't either. JUST FUCKING SAY SOMETHING!
 
A) Go. https://plague.infect.site/?contaminant=0800265D1E37EA21A1F986E61098D2EAA96788ED95BB7CCC60E366AB9390E3AC
B) Stay. https://plague.infect.site/?contaminant=8599C5E8D2727ED4B859F3C48A33D349D5AF450C7BBBE9405C243BEDFFE124A4
</pre>
</div>

====Go.====
[https://plague.infect.site/?contaminant=0800265D1E37EA21A1F986E61098D2EAA96788ED95BB7CCC60E366AB9390E3AC Link]
<div class="toccolours mw-collapsible mw-collapsed" style="overflow:auto;">
<pre>
"I don't think this is a good idea. I think I'm gonna... I think I should go."
"No, don't, I'm sorry! Look, I know I might've come off kind of... abrasive right then, and I'm sorry. I'm just worried about being out here so long. I can't risk getting caught. I'm a family man, like I said. Will you please just get in?"
You should run. Just fucking run. 
"I don't think... I'm not sure that's such a good idea," you say for some what-the-fucking reason. WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?! Fuck his feelings, fuck his family, fucking RUN. "I don't normally-- I mean, I've never done this before and I don't think..."
"Oh, it's your first go at this, huh? Gosh, that's a lot to, um... Look, I completely understand how difficult this must be. But--and this is gonna sound downright wrong--but I really think I'd be the perfect first client. Really!"
He's almost charming in his own creepy fucking way. He's like... If someone put a gun to your head and said, "Which mid-life crisis at this airport Chili's would you fuck to save your life," he might actually crack the top five. But what about Mango? Who would you fuck to save HIS life? 
"I don't know..." you glance left, pretending to mull it over, then right, looking for the best escape route. 
"Hey," he says softly, sweetly. You look at him and see a quick flash of movement followed by a jolt of pain that can only be described in colors and measured in fucking lumens. You see him toss a knife on the floorboard as you stagger backward, hands clutching your throat, wet hands. You see the constellations of deep red splattered across the cleanish-white door. You see it pooling up between your feet. You see him gritting his too-good teeth, trying not to look at you as the tint-black window raises your reflection from the depths of Mom Car oblivion and...
And you see...
https://plague.infect.site/?contaminant=5ACFD4366A9707DC7A2EE2CC14CAB0340519362E01166CDF3179771AEFBD6ADD
(Goes back to start)
</pre>
</div>

====Stay.====
Leads to Get In below