Quoted By:
>It is not possible to describe! Mutt after Mutt poured through the portal that opened above Mexico City. It was beyond belief, worse than the blackest nightmare. So many people were snatched into darkened corners or horribly corrupted. It became more and more difficult to breathe. The stench was overpowering. It was dark and all of us tried to leave the city with inconceivable panic. People who had been drained of their whiteness and those already beginning the transformation were trampled upon, women and children were left or snatched up out of our hands by Los Ogros. The basket with our twins covered with white power symbols was snatched up out of my mother's hands and we were pushed into alleyways by the people behind us. We saw the defiled street, the falling ruins and the terrible shartstorm. My mother covered us with black cloth she found in a bin.
>"We saw terrible things: our fellow whites screaming as almost uncountable hordes of mongrels fell upon them, pieces of arms and legs, convulsing bodies who were turning into Las Creaturas as we ran, whole families covered in black greasy shit and being dragged into terrible portals that seemed to consume all light, terrible corrupted things that were once people ran to and fro, sticky, putrid coaches filled with twitching refugees, dead rescuers and soldiers, many were calling and looking for their children and families, and shit everywhere, everywhere shit, and all the time the stinking evil wind of the shartstorm threw people back into the greasy clutches of the things they were trying to escape from."
>"Insane fear gripped me and from then on I repeat one simple sentence to myself continuously: "I don't want to end up as one of them". I do not know how many people I fell over. I know only one thing: that I must not turn"
-Manuel de Taragona
Survivor of the Shartstorm of Mexico City. 2081
