The sun setting behind you, a gentle breeze carries in the sounds of a Mariachi band, the rotting odor of Taco farts. Sure enough, these creatures only move at night, and you can see the first Bad Hombres shambling out of the treeline, their movements lazy and purposeless, driven forward slowly, inexorably, by a sole desire: to steal and despoil everything you hold dear. Brad brings up his AR-15, shouting: "On authority of the HOA, you are to DESIST from unlawfully entering these premises!!"
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30/10/2024
The sun setting behind you, a gentle breeze carries in the sounds of a Mariachi band, the rotting odor of Taco farts. Sure enough, these creatures only move at night, and you can see the first Bad Hombres shambling out of the treeline, their movements lazy and purposeless, driven forward slowly, inexorably, by a sole desire: to steal and despoil everything you hold dear. Brad brings up his AR-15, shouting: "On authority of the HOA, you are to DESIST from unlawfully entering these premises!!"
The Bad Hombres stare at you blankly. A few of them mumble something about drugs and tacos, but their eyes are glazed over and their movements are sluggish, as if they're barely aware of their own existence. Brad turns to you, his face pale. "They're not listening. What do we do?"
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