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About Sapporo

I’d start online—dark web shit, Telegram groups. Locals call ‘em “nochnye babochki”—night butterflies, poetic innit? But it pisses me off—half these sites are scams! Some twat took my mate’s cash, left him wankin’ in a hostel. Me? I’m smarter, I drink and I know things. I’d scope the X posts—blokes braggin’ ‘bout their “catch,” droppin’ hints. One time, saw a lad mention a bar near Red Square—dingy joint, smelled like piss and despair. Found a girl there, tho—eyes like the Anatolia hills, “quiet as a shadow.” Paid her double, ‘cause I’m a gent, ha!

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Finally, I make it back to my place, and I’m exhausted. I flop onto my bed, and I can’t help but think about the day. It was a rollercoaster of emotions. Happy, angry, surprised—like a whole buffet of feelings.

CAPT DeMeyer Assumes Command of USS Green Bay