Gabrialle Kinterlisk

Advertorial One

It is pouring rain. The click of your heels echoes insistently across the concrete boulevard, your polished shoe wracking up splashes of steel gray slurry.

Near your heel, propped awkwardly against the gutter as if oozing from the grate, there is a man. He looks up at you as you wait to cross the river of a road. His eyes are starved. His face scourged of meaning by creeping blights and scars. His matted hair ripples with creatures.

A shrill, silver peal of thunder engulfs you. This man is your father.

Stooping closer, you speak: "Pappy?" He stares at you and nods. Your tears are like rain. You embrace him, feeling the sour stench of sweat and alcohol as solidly as a punch to the heart. The bristles of his chin scrape against your cheek. You cannot stop smiling. There is not long, but there is still time.

This is what she does. Her agency brings people together.

Advertorial Two

You enter the restaurant through the back kitchen, wearing the outfit of a waiter. You glide unnoticed through the tumult.

The dining hall is a punch bowl of sensations. You feel your heart softening, but you resist it. As predicted, your wife sits in conversation with Percuflish. The exposed crowns of her bosoms flutter as she giggles. Percuflish smiles and tugs at his shirt sleeves -- his cufflinks gleam like bullets.

Silently, you unholster the pistol and dispatch them. First Percuflish. Then your wife. You look into her eyes, unblinking until the end. What comes next is of no consequence.

This is what she does. Her agency tears people apart.

Reasonable rates. Anonymity guaranteed. You do not find her. She will find you.