"JOURNALISTS could be here" he thought, "I've never been in this urban shithole before. There could be JOURNALISTS anywhere." The cool wind felt good against his nude figure. "PISS BE UPON THEM" he thought. Ssu-Su-Sudio reverberated his entire body, making it pulsate even as the psilocybin circulated through his powerful thick veins and exacerbated his (merited) disgust for daemonic entities in the employ of media cartels. "With clever planning, you can terrorize everyone you want" he said to himself, out loud.