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Biyankavitch #8

My first lesson in poisons came from Desire. She was only a few years older than the other kids and I that were held in captivity by Captain, yet she already knew so much. Her eyes, when she spoke about the different types of poisons that existed on earth, twinkled. You could tell that there was passion in her about the subject. You could also tell that I was her target for the month-long course. I was skilled with firearms already. It was easy for me to tell you what handgun you were loading by just listening to it. My nose was also trained to sniff out and differentiate between diverse gunpowder smells. But Captain wanted me to learn the use of poisons for murder. Where to get them, how to make them, how to use them. And Desire was my teacher. “Arsenic,” she had almost whispered as she kicked…

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