Born out of the mouths of wolves and serpents. Raised up by degenerates and whores in the gutters of your forgotten cities. Among the spawn of your outcast, your rebuked, your lepers. Breaking bread with gangsters, hustlers, real motherfuckers. Scorned by your fearful leaders, and your simple masses. Bearing no marking, no number, no names. Only one sign, the Rad Omen. For we are many, for we are many.
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