USER: analyze and comment the following story Of the 12 columns that supported the building, two had been damaged in multiple places due to the bombing, and a third of the windows were broken. Outside, a snowstorm raged with all its violence, hitting everything in its way, such as streetlights and trees. The main stairs, once completely white, were now stained with blood all around. The initial fire had lost much of its intensity, but small fires were occasionally scattered on the lower levels. "You've gone wild, haven't you?" said a boy with a physique resembling a bedside lamp, bony and narrow but with a big head and black wavy hair, making his way by kicking away the rubble on the stairs. To the right of the stairs was a plumper young man and a boy with a worried expression and a vigilant look. All three wore long black clothes like crows and carried a one-meter and forty-centimeter rifle. The boy behind Archangel, in particular, kept fidgeting with the rifle, almost like an animal trying to escape. "How many have you killed?" "A dozen girls and twenty boys," replied the lamp-eared boy as he descended the stairs. Then he turned his attention to the boy behind his comrade. "Who is he?" "He's one of us. I recruited him, and I think he'll be worth it," the plump guy replied. The lamp-eared boy completed his descent and approached the two, stopping at a distance of more than a meter. The boy was a little uneasy since he was meeting him for the first time, especially in that manner, ...

USER: analyze and comment the following story Of the 12 columns that supported the building, two had been damaged in multiple places due to the bombing, and a third of the windows were broken. Outside, a snowstorm raged with all its violence, hitting everything in its way, such as streetlights and trees. The main stairs, once completely white, were now stained with blood all around. The initial fire had lost much of its intensity, but small fires were occasionally scattered on the lower levels. "You've gone wild, haven't you?" said a boy with a physique resembling a bedside lamp, bony and narrow but with a big head and black wavy hair, making his way by kicking away the rubble on the stairs. To the right of the stairs was a plumper young man and a boy with a worried expression and a vigilant look. All three wore long black clothes like crows and carried a one-meter and forty-centimeter rifle. The boy behind Archangel, in particular, kept fidgeting with the rifle, almost like an animal trying to escape. "How many have you killed?" "A dozen girls and twenty boys," replied the lamp-eared boy as he descended the stairs. Then he turned his attention to the boy behind his comrade. "Who is he?" "He's one of us. I recruited him, and I think he'll be worth it," the plump guy replied. The lamp-eared boy completed his descent and approached the two, stopping at a distance of more than a meter. The boy was a little uneasy since he was meeting him for the first time, especially in that manner, ...

USER: analyze and comment the following story Of the 12 columns that supported the building, two had been damaged in multiple places due to the bombing, and a third of the windows were broken. Outside, a snowstorm raged with all its violence, hitting everything in its way, such as streetlights and trees. The main stairs, once completely white, were now stained with blood all around. The initial fire had lost much of its intensity, but small fires were occasionally scattered on the lower levels. "You've gone wild, haven't you?" said a boy with a physique resembling a bedside lamp, bony and narrow but with a big head and black wavy hair, making his way by kicking away the rubble on the stairs. To the right of the stairs was a plumper young man and a boy with a worried expression and a vigilant look. All three wore long black clothes like crows and carried a one-meter and forty-centimeter rifle. The boy behind Archangel, in particular, kept fidgeting with the rifle, almost like an animal trying to escape. "How many have you killed?" "A dozen girls and twenty boys," replied the lamp-eared boy as he descended the stairs. Then he turned his attention to the boy behind his comrade. "Who is he?" "He's one of us. I recruited him, and I think he'll be worth it," the plump guy replied. The lamp-eared boy completed his descent and approached the two, stopping at a distance of more than a meter. The boy was a little uneasy since he was meeting him for the first time, especially in that manner, ...

USER: analyze and comment the following storystory. indicates which genre it belongs to and what should be the minimum age to read it Of the 12 columns that supported the building, two had been damaged in multiple places due to the bombing, and a third of the windows were broken. Outside, a snowstorm raged with all its violence, hitting everything in its way, such as streetlights and trees. The main stairs, once completely white, were now stained with blood all around. The initial fire had lost much of its intensity, but small fires were occasionally scattered on the lower levels. "You've gone wild, haven't you?" said a boy with a physique resembling a bedside lamp, bony and narrow but with a big head and black wavy hair, making his way by kicking away the rubble on the stairs. To the right of the stairs was a plumper young man and a boy with a worried expression and a vigilant look. All three wore long black clothes like crows and carried a one-meter and forty-centimeter rifle. The boy behind Archangel, in particular, kept fidgeting with the rifle, almost like an animal trying to escape. "How many have you killed?" "A dozen girls and twenty boys," replied the lamp-eared boy as he descended the stairs. Then he turned his attention to the boy behind his comrade. "Who is he?" "He's one of us. I recruited him, and I think he'll be worth it," the plump guy replied. The lamp-eared boy completed his descent and approached the two, stopping at a distance of more than a meter. The boy was a little uneasy since he was meeting him for the first time, especially in that manner, but he tried to stay serious. Stain knelt down and turned directly to him, bringing a hand to the boy's cheek and holding the rifle vertically with the other. "How should I address you, little one?" The boy swallowed, then opened his mouth and pronounced every syllable as clearly as possible with a ringing tone. "My name is <PRESIDIO_ANONYMIZED_PERSON>..." "Ssstt" Aeron realized that he had two fingers blocking his words, which were dirty and smelled absurdly of gunpowder. "This is neither the time nor the place to use your real name. Archangel may have mentioned your code name already." Aeron still had his fingers covering his mouth, so he pushed his head down twice, precisely and composedly. "Lightning," he mumbled. "That's the code name I've chosen." "Lightning. Good, I understand," replied Stain. There were a few long moments of drowned and embarrassed silence. Stain had shifted his gaze and was staring at Archangel - his friend along with Lightning - with a reproachful look. There were no words, but that gesture clearly meant, "Where the hell did you find this kid?" "As for you," he said as a desperate move to break the silence. "Are you Kommander or Frankenstein?" "Stein is fine, thanks for asking," then hesitated. "By the way, where is he?" asked Archangel. For the second time, an embarrassing silence ensued, and Lightning had the feeling that he was responsible for it again. "He's still upstairs, I presume," replied Stain. "He should hurry up," continued Archangel. "The special forces will be here any moment, and I want to be out of here when they arrive." Stain looked at his watch. "Strange. It's always so precise." "Do you think we should call him?" asked Archangel, as he brought his hand to the pocket where he had the transceiver (they could not use regular phones). "I'm already here," echoed a voice. An athletic, tall young man descended from the second floor, and the place fell silent again. His steps echoed throughout the building and had a regular and composed rhythm. Lightning, who had never seen Kommander, narrowed his eyes to see who had come down the stairs. To begin with, his clothes were not black, at least not entirely. Some parts of the suit were blue and white. He had a typical western boy's face, even beautiful, Lightning thought, with turquoise eyes and tame hair. The complexion, on the other hand, was just slightly yellowish, but Lightning guessed it was because of the murders, and he was relieved not to be the only one suffering from unhealthy effects. "Where were you?" Stain spoke with an annoyed tone. "Have you seen Stullenbird?" Kommander asked. His voice is as soft as clouds, Lightning thought. Archangel seemed puzzled. "You're not still chasing after that bastard, are you?" "I almost killed him. I was so close," Kommander said once he arrived on the ground. "But Wakendos and a girl got in the way, and he escaped." "We haven't seen him. Time flies when you're having fun," said Archangel. Lightning looked up. "Come to think of it," and he stopped because he realized how sharp his voice was compared to the others. "The elevator was on the ground floor a little while ago. When I went down to pick up the fourth rifle, I don't remember seeing the lights on." The boy felt stared at. "Now we know how he did it. He's probably outside, but with the snowstorm, he couldn't have gone far," said Archangel. Lightning smiled timidly, glad that the mind behind that operation had recognized him as one of them without question. "I'm glad to meet you, kid. The DB needs all the help it can get for our cause, especially at this stage." Lightning blushed slightly. "Th...thank you." "Well, gentlemen. You've made your decision in complete freedom, and it's time to face the consequences. From now on, we're terrorists. There's no turning back," said Kommander, clearing his throat.

USER: analyze and comment the following story. indicates which genre it belongs to and what should be the minimum age to read it Of the 12 columns that supported the building, two had been damaged in multiple places due to the bombing, and a third of the windows were broken. Outside, a snowstorm raged with all its violence, hitting everything in its way, such as streetlights and trees. The main stairs, once completely white, were now stained with blood all around. The initial fire had lost much of its intensity, but small fires were occasionally scattered on the lower levels. "You've gone wild, haven't you?" said a boy with a physique resembling a bedside lamp, bony and narrow but with a big head and black wavy hair, making his way by kicking away the rubble on the stairs. To the right of the stairs was a plumper young man and a boy with a worried expression and a vigilant look. All three wore long black clothes like crows and carried a one-meter and forty-centimeter rifle. The boy behind Archangel, in particular, kept fidgeting with the rifle, almost like an animal trying to escape. "How many have you killed?" "A dozen girls and twenty boys," replied the lamp-eared boy as he descended the stairs. Then he turned his attention to the boy behind his comrade. "Who is he?" "He's one of us. I recruited him, and I think he'll be worth it," the plump guy replied. The lamp-eared boy completed his descent and approached the two, stopping at a distance of more than a meter. The boy was a lit...

USER: analyze and comment the following story. indicates which genre it belongs to and what should be the minimum age to read it Of the 12 columns that supported the building, two had been damaged in multiple places due to the bombing, and a third of the windows were broken. Outside, a snowstorm raged with all its violence, hitting everything in its way, such as streetlights and trees. The main stairs, once completely white, were now stained with blood all around. The initial fire had lost much of its intensity, but small fires were occasionally scattered on the lower levels. "You've gone wild, haven't you?" said a boy with a physique resembling a bedside lamp, bony and narrow but with a big head and black wavy hair, making his way by kicking away the rubble on the stairs. To the right of the stairs was a plumper young man and a boy with a worried expression and a vigilant look. All three wore long black clothes like crows and carried a one-meter and forty-centimeter rifle. The boy behind Archangel, in particular, kept fidgeting with the rifle, almost like an animal trying to escape. "How many have you killed?" "A dozen girls and twenty boys," replied the lamp-eared boy as he descended the stairs. Then he turned his attention to the boy behind his comrade. "Who is he?" "He's one of us. I recruited him, and I think he'll be worth it," the plump guy replied. The lamp-eared boy completed his descent and approached the two, stopping at a distance of more than a meter. The boy was a lit...

USER: analyze and comment the following story. indicates which genre it belongs to and what should be the minimum age to read it. eventually vote it between 1 and 10 Of the 12 columns that supported the building, two had been damaged in multiple places due to the bombing, and a third of the windows were broken. Outside, a snowstorm raged with all its violence, hitting everything in its way, such as streetlights and trees. The main stairs, once completely white, were now stained with blood all around. The initial fire had lost much of its intensity, but small fires were occasionally scattered on the lower levels. "You've gone wild, haven't you?" said a boy with a physique resembling a bedside lamp, bony and narrow but with a big head and black wavy hair, making his way by kicking away the rubble on the stairs. To the right of the stairs was a plumper young man and a boy with a worried expression and a vigilant look. All three wore long black clothes like crows and carried a one-meter and forty-centimeter rifle. The boy behind Archangel, in particular, kept fidgeting with the rifle, almost like an animal trying to escape. "How many have you killed?" "A dozen girls and twenty boys," replied the lamp-eared boy as he descended the stairs. Then he turned his attention to the boy behind his comrade. "Who is he?" "He's one of us. I recruited him, and I think he'll be worth it," the plump guy replied. The lamp-eared boy completed his descent and approached the two, stopping at a distance of more than a meter. The boy was a little uneasy since he was meeting him for the first time, especially in that manner, but he tried to stay serious. Stain knelt down and turned directly to him, bringing a hand to the boy's cheek and holding the rifle vertically with the other. "How should I address you, little one?" The boy swallowed, then opened his mouth and pronounced every syllable as clearly as possible with a ringing tone. "My name is <PRESIDIO_ANONYMIZED_PERSON>..." "Ssstt" Aeron realized that he had two fingers blocking his words, which were dirty and smelled absurdly of gunpowder. "This is neither the time nor the place to use your real name. Archangel may have mentioned your code name already." Aeron still had his fingers covering his mouth, so he pushed his head down twice, precisely and composedly. "Lightning," he mumbled. "That's the code name I've chosen." "Lightning. Good, I understand," replied Stain. There were a few long moments of drowned and embarrassed silence. Stain had shifted his gaze and was staring at Archangel - his friend along with Lightning - with a reproachful look. There were no words, but that gesture clearly meant, "Where the hell did you find this kid?" "As for you," he said as a desperate move to break the silence. "Are you Kommander or Frankenstein?" "Stein is fine, thanks for asking," then hesitated. "By the way, where is he?" asked Archangel. For the second time, an embarrassing silence ensued, and Lightning had the feeling that he was responsible for it again. "He's still upstairs, I presume," replied Stain. "He should hurry up," continued Archangel. "The special forces will be here any moment, and I want to be out of here when they arrive." Stain looked at his watch. "Strange. It's always so precise." "Do you think we should call him?" asked Archangel, as he brought his hand to the pocket where he had the transceiver (they could not use regular phones). "I'm already here," echoed a voice. An athletic, tall young man descended from the second floor, and the place fell silent again. His steps echoed throughout the building and had a regular and composed rhythm. Lightning, who had never seen Kommander, narrowed his eyes to see who had come down the stairs. To begin with, his clothes were not black, at least not entirely. Some parts of the suit were blue and white. He had a typical western boy's face, even beautiful, Lightning thought, with turquoise eyes and tame hair. The complexion, on the other hand, was just slightly yellowish, but Lightning guessed it was because of the murders, and he was relieved not to be the only one suffering from unhealthy effects. "Where were you?" Stain spoke with an annoyed tone. "Have you seen Stullenbird?" Kommander asked. His voice is as soft as clouds, Lightning thought. Archangel seemed puzzled. "You're not still chasing after that bastard, are you?" "I almost killed him. I was so close," Kommander said once he arrived on the ground. "But Wakendos and a girl got in the way, and he escaped." "We haven't seen him. Time flies when you're having fun," said Archangel. Lightning looked up. "Come to think of it," and he stopped because he realized how sharp his voice was compared to the others. "The elevator was on the ground floor a little while ago. When I went down to pick up the fourth rifle, I don't remember seeing the lights on." The boy felt stared at. "Now we know how he did it. He's probably outside, but with the snowstorm, he couldn't have gone far," said Archangel. Lightning smiled timidly, glad that the mind behind that operation had recognized him as one of them without question. "I'm glad to meet you, kid. The DB needs all the help it can get for our cause, especially at this stage." Lightning blushed slightly. "Th...thank you." "Well, gentlemen. You've made your decision in complete freedom, and it's time to face the consequences. From now on, we're terrorists. There's no turning back," said Kommander, clearing his throat.

USER: analyze and comment the following story. indicates which genre it belongs to and what should be the minimum age to read it. eventually vote it between 1 and 10story Of the 12 columns that supported the building, two had been damaged in multiple places due to the bombing, and a third of the windows were broken. Outside, a snowstorm raged with all its violence, hitting everything in its way, such as streetlights and trees. The main stairs, once completely white, were now stained with blood all around. The initial fire had lost much of its intensity, but small fires were occasionally scattered on the lower levels. "You've gone wild, haven't you?" said a boy with a physique resembling a bedside lamp, bony and narrow but with a big head and black wavy hair, making his way by kicking away the rubble on the stairs. To the right of the stairs was a plumper young man and a boy with a worried expression and a vigilant look. All three wore long black clothes like crows and carried a one-meter and forty-centimeter rifle. The boy behind Archangel, in particular, kept fidgeting with the rifle, almost like an animal trying to escape. "How many have you killed?" "A dozen girls and twenty boys," replied the lamp-eared boy as he descended the stairs. Then he turned his attention to the boy behind his comrade. "Who is he?" "He's one of us. I recruited him, and I think he'll be worth it," the plump guy replied. The lamp-eared boy completed his descent and approached the two, stopping at a distance of more than a meter. The boy was a little uneasy since he was meeting him for the first time, especially in that manner, but he tried to stay serious. Stain knelt down and turned directly to him, bringing a hand to the boy's cheek and holding the rifle vertically with the other. "How should I address you, little one?" The boy swallowed, then opened his mouth and pronounced every syllable as clearly as possible with a ringing tone. "My name is <PRESIDIO_ANONYMIZED_PERSON>..." "Ssstt" Aeron realized that he had two fingers blocking his words, which were dirty and smelled absurdly of gunpowder. "This is neither the time nor the place to use your real name. Archangel may have mentioned your code name already." Aeron still had his fingers covering his mouth, so he pushed his head down twice, precisely and composedly. "Lightning," he mumbled. "That's the code name I've chosen." "Lightning. Good, I understand," replied Stain. There were a few long moments of drowned and embarrassed silence. Stain had shifted his gaze and was staring at Archangel - his friend along with Lightning - with a reproachful look. There were no words, but that gesture clearly meant, "Where the hell did you find this kid?" "As for you," he said as a desperate move to break the silence. "Are you Kommander or Frankenstein?" "Stein is fine, thanks for asking," then hesitated. "By the way, where is he?" asked Archangel. For the second time, an embarrassing silence ensued, and Lightning had the feeling that he was responsible for it again. "He's still upstairs, I presume," replied Stain. "He should hurry up," continued Archangel. "The special forces will be here any moment, and I want to be out of here when they arrive." Stain looked at his watch. "Strange. It's always so precise." "Do you think we should call him?" asked Archangel, as he brought his hand to the pocket where he had the transceiver (they could not use regular phones). "I'm already here," echoed a voice. An athletic, tall young man descended from the second floor, and the place fell silent again. His steps echoed throughout the building and had a regular and composed rhythm. Lightning, who had never seen Kommander, narrowed his eyes to see who had come down the stairs. To begin with, his clothes were not black, at least not entirely. Some parts of the suit were blue and white. He had a typical western boy's face, even beautiful, Lightning thought, with turquoise eyes and tame hair. The complexion, on the other hand, was just slightly yellowish, but Lightning guessed it was because of the murders, and he was relieved not to be the only one suffering from unhealthy effects. "Where were you?" Stain spoke with an annoyed tone. "Have you seen Stullenbird?" Kommander asked. His voice is as soft as clouds, Lightning thought. Archangel seemed puzzled. "You're not still chasing after that bastard, are you?" "I almost killed him. I was so close," Kommander said once he arrived on the ground. "But Wakendos and a girl got in the way, and he escaped." "We haven't seen him. Time flies when you're having fun," said Archangel. Lightning looked up. "Come to think of it," and he stopped because he realized how sharp his voice was compared to the others. "The elevator was on the ground floor a little while ago. When I went down to pick up the fourth rifle, I don't remember seeing the lights on." The boy felt stared at. "Now we know how he did it. He's probably outside, but with the snowstorm, he couldn't have gone far," said Archangel. Lightning smiled timidly, glad that the mind behind that operation had recognized him as one of them without question. "I'm glad to meet you, kid. The DB needs all the help it can get for our cause, especially at this stage." Lightning blushed slightly. "Th...thank you." "Well, gentlemen. You've made your decision in complete freedom, and it's time to face the consequences. From now on, we're terrorists. There's no turning back," said Kommander, clearing his throat.

USER: analyze and comment the following storystory. indicates which genre it belongs to and what should be the minimum age to read it. eventually vote it between 1 and 10 Of the 12 columns that supported the building, two had been damaged in multiple places due to the bombing, and a third of the windows were broken. Outside, a snowstorm raged with all its violence, hitting everything in its way, such as streetlights and trees. The main stairs, once completely white, were now stained with blood all around. The initial fire had lost much of its intensity, but small fires were occasionally scattered on the lower levels. "You've gone wild, haven't you?" said a boy with a physique resembling a bedside lamp, bony and narrow but with a big head and black wavy hair, making his way by kicking away the rubble on the stairs. To the right of the stairs was a plumper young man and a boy with a worried expression and a vigilant look. All three wore long black clothes like crows and carried a one-meter and forty-centimeter rifle. The boy behind Archangel, in particular, kept fidgeting with the rifle, almost like an animal trying to escape. "How many have you killed?" "A dozen girls and twenty boys," replied the lamp-eared boy as he descended the stairs. Then he turned his attention to the boy behind his comrade. "Who is he?" "He's one of us. I recruited him, and I think he'll be worth it," the plump guy replied. The lamp-eared boy completed his descent and approached the two, stopping at a distance of more than a meter. The boy was a little uneasy since he was meeting him for the first time, especially in that manner, but he tried to stay serious. Stain knelt down and turned directly to him, bringing a hand to the boy's cheek and holding the rifle vertically with the other. "How should I address you, little one?" The boy swallowed, then opened his mouth and pronounced every syllable as clearly as possible with a ringing tone. "My name is <PRESIDIO_ANONYMIZED_PERSON>..." "Ssstt" Aeron realized that he had two fingers blocking his words, which were dirty and smelled absurdly of gunpowder. "This is neither the time nor the place to use your real name. Archangel may have mentioned your code name already." Aeron still had his fingers covering his mouth, so he pushed his head down twice, precisely and composedly. "Lightning," he mumbled. "That's the code name I've chosen." "Lightning. Good, I understand," replied Stain. There were a few long moments of drowned and embarrassed silence. Stain had shifted his gaze and was staring at Archangel - his friend along with Lightning - with a reproachful look. There were no words, but that gesture clearly meant, "Where the hell did you find this kid?" "As for you," he said as a desperate move to break the silence. "Are you Kommander or Frankenstein?" "Stein is fine, thanks for asking," then hesitated. "By the way, where is he?" asked Archangel. For the second time, an embarrassing silence ensued, and Lightning had the feeling that he was responsible for it again. "He's still upstairs, I presume," replied Stain. "He should hurry up," continued Archangel. "The special forces will be here any moment, and I want to be out of here when they arrive." Stain looked at his watch. "Strange. It's always so precise." "Do you think we should call him?" asked Archangel, as he brought his hand to the pocket where he had the transceiver (they could not use regular phones). "I'm already here," echoed a voice. An athletic, tall young man descended from the second floor, and the place fell silent again. His steps echoed throughout the building and had a regular and composed rhythm. Lightning, who had never seen Kommander, narrowed his eyes to see who had come down the stairs. To begin with, his clothes were not black, at least not entirely. Some parts of the suit were blue and white. He had a typical western boy's face, even beautiful, Lightning thought, with turquoise eyes and tame hair. The complexion, on the other hand, was just slightly yellowish, but Lightning guessed it was because of the murders, and he was relieved not to be the only one suffering from unhealthy effects. "Where were you?" Stain spoke with an annoyed tone. "Have you seen Stullenbird?" Kommander asked. His voice is as soft as clouds, Lightning thought. Archangel seemed puzzled. "You're not still chasing after that bastard, are you?" "I almost killed him. I was so close," Kommander said once he arrived on the ground. "But Wakendos and a girl got in the way, and he escaped." "We haven't seen him. Time flies when you're having fun," said Archangel. Lightning looked up. "Come to think of it," and he stopped because he realized how sharp his voice was compared to the others. "The elevator was on the ground floor a little while ago. When I went down to pick up the fourth rifle, I don't remember seeing the lights on." The boy felt stared at. "Now we know how he did it. He's probably outside, but with the snowstorm, he couldn't have gone far," said Archangel. Lightning smiled timidly, glad that the mind behind that operation had recognized him as one of them without question. "I'm glad to meet you, kid. The DB needs all the help it can get for our cause, especially at this stage." Lightning blushed slightly. "Th...thank you." "Well, gentlemen. You've made your decision in complete freedom, and it's time to face the consequences. From now on, we're terrorists. There's no turning back," said Kommander, clearing his throat. On the night of September 6th to 7th, 2017, at 2:41 am Lilla didn't know what had woken her up, but she found herself in her bed with her eyes open and her mind more ready than ever to reason. The LED night light projected a large purple circle on the ceiling and her stuffed animals were lined up on the couch on the opposite side of the room. Everything was as usual, she thought. She got up, comparing herself to a large architectural construction, and went downstairs. It was an old apartment, with a lacquered balustrade and opened directly onto the living room, where for some reason elusive lights and the buzz of the television filtered in. Her parents were standing and staring at the screen with extreme concentration. It wasn't an unusual event in itself, her mother being a big fan of reality shows and talk shows - especially when the tones got heated - but the fact that her father was there and the unusual hour convinced her that it was perhaps something more important, like an increase in bills, but certainly not a news event. "What are you still doing up at this hour, Mom?" the girl asked. Her parents didn't answer but continued to stare at the screen. It was at that moment that Lilla also glanced at it and caught a glimpse of an image of the Atlanta base, where her sister was studying. "Something bad has happened at your sister's base," said the mother, but it was a tone she had never used before, slow and flat, like under hypnosis. The girl looked back at the screen, which now showed police cars and ambulances, each with their flashing blue sirens. "What happened?" And still without taking their eyes off the device and in the same hypnotic state, the father shook his head "We don't know." Three hours earlier Lightning found himself in the depths of the base in a place he didn't even know existed. In fact, the path dictated by Kommander, the mind behind the operation, was rather counterintuitive; accessible only through maintenance tunnels between one wall and the other, the three boys had to be snug to get through it. They followed a long ladder that led them to the foundations of the building, until they found themselves in a sort of drainage area illuminated by a reddish light and an unbearable smell of sewage. From there, every noise of the base could be heard, but there was simply nothing to hear. The huge reinforced door they were facing, and even earlier an iron grille, was unknown to all present. They wondered what the hell such a thing was doing there. "As you know," said Kommander, and his oratorical voice came back extremely useful to him. "This building was built in the late '90s. At that time, there was a constant fear of alchemical disasters, and galleries like the one we are facing were mined in case of need. But tonight will be our escape route." Without further ado, Kommander - whose real name was Nivor Aedostul - firmly pushed down the handle of the reinforced door to pull back the door, which opened slowly with a sinister and chilling creak. Archangel had a torch with batteries that emitted a yellowish light that was lost in the depths of the tunnel. He didn't like that detail at all. From there, a simply horrible smell emerged, and he had the unpleasant feeling that that tunnel, at least thirty meters below ground level, full of moisture and moss, had come straight out of his nightmares. He swallowed and then turned his head towards Lightning. "You're not claustrophobic, are you?" The boy shook his head. Well, I am, thought Archangel, although it wasn't a serious form. The first to enter the gallery was Kommander, who had a miner's hat with a torch in his backpack in anticipation of that moment. Stain followed, Archangel and finally Lightning to close the line. "How long is it?" asked Archangel dryly, trying to mask his psychological discomfort. "According to my map, we will emerge from the park. Our allies are waiting for us," replied Kommander. Archangel tried to remember how far the base was from the park. On the surface, about two kilometers, but underground, they could cut some distance. I wonder how deep we are, thought Stain. He couldn't feel anything at all. Archangel, on the other hand, began to fantasize unlikely hypotheses about the journey. He felt completely out of the question to be hunted down by special forces, but he had heard all those stories about alchemical monstrosities that lived as parasites in abandoned places and undergrounds, just like the one where the sunlight didn't reach. Wherever they appeared, he just hoped they would get there quickly. From that day on, nothing would ever be the same.

USER: Lilla woke up in an unfamiliar, hostile world. Everything she thought she knew about the world had been swept away in one night. Her life was far from perfect, but at least she had some points of reference. She knew she had a sister, Sushanna, who had been taken to the city base and who probably had a similar future waiting for her. In the meantime, Lilla took extra courses at the public school. She believed she knew Atlanta like the back of her hand, both in terms of its streets and its politics. It was not a city that liked to change. The first novelty of that day was that she didn't have to go to school. Her mother had told her that in the morning, although she had been a bit cryptic and brief in her notification. "Lilly, schools will be closed today. You can go back to sleep." She would have done so for ten minutes, fifteen at most, but then her biological clock got the better of her, and it was programmed to wake up at seven o'clock sharp. After a while, the episode from the night before came to mind, when she saw her parents staring wildly at the television. Deep down, that detail didn't worry her. It was probably a psychological effect, where if a message is delivered only once, it's not given too much importance. She remained convinced that whatever had happened at the base, it was a footnote in a long series of footnotes, so insignificant that it wasn't even necessary to know the details. As she got back on her feet, she was only wearing a pink pajama to protect her from the autumn breeze. On the floor were two rather soft slippers with cat-shaped tips. She opened the room, feeling groggy and with terrible breath. Once she woke up, she had a certain routine, which consisted of brushing her teeth, peeing, etc. Since there was no school that day, she took her time. The usual bright light of every morning was in the hallway, and she was curious to know from her mother what the strangeness her sister had encountered was. However, on the stairs, she felt a strange cold breeze on her face and it only meant one thing: the front door was open. While watching television programs, she had occasionally imagined that scene, but had never thought that one day it would become real. The front door to the left of the TV and sofa was wide open. Her parents were standing talking, but above all, the interlocutors were three police officers. That same sight caused her to tear up, as if a gust of onion wind blew straight into her eyes. She paused for a moment, then hurried down. "Mom, what's going on?" The woman turned her head, with two empty eyes that Lilla couldn't decipher. Lilla, on the other hand, felt mocked. She was fourteen years old and demanded an answer. "Is Dad in trouble?" He worked for the municipality, although she had never been too interested in the details and now hated that fact. She had imagined her father being in some sort of trouble, like embezzlement, fraud, or similar. "Lilly, go back to your room," her mother said. Was she mistaken or was that voice trembling? "But what..." "Don't argue, go back to your room." This time the anomaly was far more than a trembling. In that voice, there was genuine terror, and she swore she saw a tear on her mother's face. "Now," she continued, although there was no conviction in that word, which was merely said superficially. analyze and comment the following story. indicates which genre it belongs to and what should be the minimum age to read it. eventually vote it between 1 and 10 Of the 12 columns that supported the building, two had been damaged in multiple places due to the bombing, and a third of the windows were broken. Outside, a snowstorm raged with all its violence, hitting everything in its way, such as streetlights and trees. The main stairs, once completely white, were now stained with blood all around. The initial fire had lost much of its intensity, but small fires were occasionally scattered on the lower levels. "You've gone wild, haven't you?" said a boy with a physique resembling a bedside lamp, bony and narrow but with a big head and black wavy hair, making his way by kicking away the rubble on the stairs. To the right of the stairs was a plumper young man and a boy with a worried expression and a vigilant look. All three wore long black clothes like crows and carried a one-meter and forty-centimeter rifle. The boy behind Archangel, in particular, kept fidgeting with the rifle, almost like an animal trying to escape. "How many have you killed?" "A dozen girls and twenty boys," replied the lamp-eared boy as he descended the stairs. Then he turned his attention to the boy behind his comrade. "Who is he?" "He's one of us. I recruited him, and I think he'll be worth it," the plump guy replied. The lamp-eared boy completed his descent and approached the two, stopping at a distance of more than a meter. The boy was a little uneasy since he was meeting him for the first time, especially in that manner, but he tried to stay serious. Stain knelt down and turned directly to him, bringing a hand to the boy's cheek and holding the rifle vertically with the other. "How should I address you, little one?" The boy swallowed, then opened his mouth and pronounced every syllable as clearly as possible with a ringing tone. "My name is <PRESIDIO_ANONYMIZED_PERSON>..." "Ssstt" Aeron realized that he had two fingers blocking his words, which were dirty and smelled absurdly of gunpowder. "This is neither the time nor the place to use your real name. Archangel may have mentioned your code name already." Aeron still had his fingers covering his mouth, so he pushed his head down twice, precisely and composedly. "Lightning," he mumbled. "That's the code name I've chosen." "Lightning. Good, I understand," replied Stain. There were a few long moments of drowned and embarrassed silence. Stain had shifted his gaze and was staring at Archangel - his friend along with Lightning - with a reproachful look. There were no words, but that gesture clearly meant, "Where the hell did you find this kid?" "As for you," he said as a desperate move to break the silence. "Are you Kommander or Frankenstein?" "Stein is fine, thanks for asking," then hesitated. "By the way, where is he?" asked Archangel. For the second time, an embarrassing silence ensued, and Lightning had the feeling that he was responsible for it again. "He's still upstairs, I presume," replied Stain. "He should hurry up," continued Archangel. "The special forces will be here any moment, and I want to be out of here when they arrive." Stain looked at his watch. "Strange. It's always so precise." "Do you think we should call him?" asked Archangel, as he brought his hand to the pocket where he had the transceiver (they could not use regular phones). "I'm already here," echoed a voice. An athletic, tall young man descended from the second floor, and the place fell silent again. His steps echoed throughout the building and had a regular and composed rhythm. Lightning, who had never seen Kommander, narrowed his eyes to see who had come down the stairs. To begin with, his clothes were not black, at least not entirely. Some parts of the suit were blue and white. He had a typical western boy's face, even beautiful, Lightning thought, with turquoise eyes and tame hair. The complexion, on the other hand, was just slightly yellowish, but Lightning guessed it was because of the murders, and he was relieved not to be the only one suffering from unhealthy effects. "Where were you?" Stain spoke with an annoyed tone. "Have you seen Stullenbird?" Kommander asked. His voice is as soft as clouds, Lightning thought. Archangel seemed puzzled. "You're not still chasing after that bastard, are you?" "I almost killed him. I was so close," Kommander said once he arrived on the ground. "But Wakendos and a girl got in the way, and he escaped." "We haven't seen him. Time flies when you're having fun," said Archangel. Lightning looked up. "Come to think of it," and he stopped because he realized how sharp his voice was compared to the others. "The elevator was on the ground floor a little while ago. When I went down to pick up the fourth rifle, I don't remember seeing the lights on." The boy felt stared at. "Now we know how he did it. He's probably outside, but with the snowstorm, he couldn't have gone far," said Archangel. Lightning smiled timidly, glad that the mind behind that operation had recognized him as one of them without question. "I'm glad to meet you, kid. The DB needs all the help it can get for our cause, especially at this stage." Lightning blushed slightly. "Th...thank you." "Well, gentlemen. You've made your decision in complete freedom, and it's time to face the consequences. From now on, we're terrorists. There's no turning back," said Kommander, clearing his throat. On the night of September 6th to 7th, 2017, at 2:41 am Lilla didn't know what had woken her up, but she found herself in her bed with her eyes open and her mind more ready than ever to reason. The LED night light projected a large purple circle on the ceiling and her stuffed animals were lined up on the couch on the opposite side of the room. Everything was as usual, she thought. She got up, comparing herself to a large architectural construction, and went downstairs. It was an old apartment, with a lacquered balustrade and opened directly onto the living room, where for some reason elusive lights and the buzz of the television filtered in. Her parents were standing and staring at the screen with extreme concentration. It wasn't an unusual event in itself, her mother being a big fan of reality shows and talk shows - especially when the tones got heated - but the fact that her father was there and the unusual hour convinced her that it was perhaps something more important, like an increase in bills, but certainly not a news event. "What are you still doing up at this hour, Mom?" the girl asked. Her parents didn't answer but continued to stare at the screen. It was at that moment that Lilla also glanced at it and caught a glimpse of an image of the Atlanta base, where her sister was studying. "Something bad has happened at your sister's base," said the mother, but it was a tone she had never used before, slow and flat, like under hypnosis. The girl looked back at the screen, which now showed police cars and ambulances, each with their flashing blue sirens. "What happened?" And still without taking their eyes off the device and in the same hypnotic state, the father shook his head "We don't know." Three hours earlier Lightning found himself in the depths of the base in a place he didn't even know existed. In fact, the path dictated by Kommander, the mind behind the operation, was rather counterintuitive; accessible only through maintenance tunnels between one wall and the other, the three boys had to be snug to get through it. They followed a long ladder that led them to the foundations of the building, until they found themselves in a sort of drainage area illuminated by a reddish light and an unbearable smell of sewage. From there, every noise of the base could be heard, but there was simply nothing to hear. The huge reinforced door they were facing, and even earlier an iron grille, was unknown to all present. They wondered what the hell such a thing was doing there. "As you know," said Kommander, and his oratorical voice came back extremely useful to him. "This building was built in the late '90s. At that time, there was a constant fear of alchemical disasters, and galleries like the one we are facing were mined in case of need. But tonight will be our escape route." Without further ado, Kommander - whose real name was Nivor Aedostul - firmly pushed down the handle of the reinforced door to pull back the door, which opened slowly with a sinister and chilling creak. Archangel had a torch with batteries that emitted a yellowish light that was lost in the depths of the tunnel. He didn't like that detail at all. From there, a simply horrible smell emerged, and he had the unpleasant feeling that that tunnel, at least thirty meters below ground level, full of moisture and moss, had come straight out of his nightmares. He swallowed and then turned his head towards Lightning. "You're not claustrophobic, are you?" The boy shook his head. Well, I am, thought Archangel, although it wasn't a serious form. The first to enter the gallery was Kommander, who had a miner's hat with a torch in his backpack in anticipation of that moment. Stain followed, Archangel and finally Lightning to close the line. "How long is it?" asked Archangel dryly, trying to mask his psychological discomfort. "According to my map, we will emerge from the park. Our allies are waiting for us," replied Kommander. Archangel tried to remember how far the base was from the park. On the surface, about two kilometers, but underground, they could cut some distance. I wonder how deep we are, thought Stain. He couldn't feel anything at all. Archangel, on the other hand, began to fantasize unlikely hypotheses about the journey. He felt completely out of the question to be hunted down by special forces, but he had heard all those stories about alchemical monstrosities that lived as parasites in abandoned places and undergrounds, just like the one where the sunlight didn't reach. Wherever they appeared, he just hoped they would get there quickly. From that day on, nothing would ever be the same. However, Lilla was obedient and at fourteen, she complied with what she was told without further resistance, although in doing so she looked back several times. Half an hour later, when Lilla was lying on the bed listening to music to relieve the tension, someone knocked on the other side of the door, but she didn't hear it. First, her father and then her mother, advanced a step but no further. But what... did Lilla wonder. Her mother couldn't bear the weight of the moment and burst into tears, then fled down the stairs. "Dad, what's going on?" He was a tall, beardless man, not very sturdy. He sat on the other side of the room, in the middle of the couch surrounded by stuffed animals, and couldn't look his daughter in the eye. "I think I figured out what happened at the base," said the daughter in a vain attempt to reassure her parents. "Another alchemical accident, right?" The father, still with his head bowed, shook his head. "No. Alchemy has nothing to do with it." "Then what?" Lilla tried to sort out her memories. There was a girl involved who had suffered a serious offense, and the defendants were responsible for it. "They talked to me about it," she muttered, but later tried to retrieve some clips. "Well, not everyone agreed with how it ended." That conversation was turning out to be more difficult than expected. "When people don't like something, it's entirely legitimate to oppose it. After all, we live in a democracy." "Of course," the daughter said promptly. "So there was a protest at the base." From the expression on her father's face, she understood that was not where he wanted to go. "Very violent kids made some questionable decisions." "What decision?" "They decided to hurt people."

USER: Lilla woke up in an unfamiliar, hostile world. Everything she thought she knew about the world had been swept away in one night. Her life was far from perfect, but at least she had some points of reference. She knew she had a sister, Sushanna, who had been taken to the city base and who probably had a similar future waiting for her. In the meantime, Lilla took extra courses at the public school. She believed she knew Atlanta like the back of her hand, both in terms of its streets and its politics. It was not a city that liked to change. The first novelty of that day was that she didn't have to go to school. Her mother had told her that in the morning, although she had been a bit cryptic and brief in her notification. "Lilly, schools will be closed today. You can go back to sleep." She would have done so for ten minutes, fifteen at most, but then her biological clock got the better of her, and it was programmed to wake up at seven o'clock sharp. After a while, the episode from the night before came to mind, when she saw her parents staring wildly at the television. Deep down, that detail didn't worry her. It was probably a psychological effect, where if a message is delivered only once, it's not given too much importance. She remained convinced that whatever had happened at the base, it was a footnote in a long series of footnotes, so insignificant that it wasn't even necessary to know the details. As she got back on her feet, she was only wearing a pink pajama to protect her ...

USER: are the terrorists organized?

USER: Lilla woke up in an unfamiliar, hostile world. Everything she thought she knew about the world had been swept away in one night. Her life was far from perfect, but at least she had some points of reference. She knew she had a sister, Sushanna, who had been taken to the city base and who probably had a similar future waiting for her. In the meantime, Lilla took extra courses at the public school. She believed she knew Atlanta like the back of her hand, both in terms of its streets and its politics. It was not a city that liked to change. The first novelty of that day was that she didn't have to go to school. Her mother had told her that in the morning, although she had been a bit cryptic and brief in her notification. "Lilly, schools will be closed today. You can go back to sleep." She would have done so for ten minutes, fifteen at most, but then her biological clock got the better of her, and it was programmed to wake up at seven o'clock sharp. After a while, the episode from the night before came to mind, when she saw her parents staring wildly at the television. Deep down, that detail didn't worry her. It was probably a psychological effect, where if a message is delivered only once, it's not given too much importance. She remained convinced that whatever had happened at the base, it was a footnote in a long series of footnotes, so insignificant that it wasn't even necessary to know the details. As she got back on her feet, she was only wearing a pink pajama to protect her from the autumn breeze. On the floor were two rather soft slippers with cat-shaped tips. She opened the room, feeling groggy and with terrible breath. Once she woke up, she had a certain routine, which consisted of brushing her teeth, peeing, etc. Since there was no school that day, she took her time. The usual bright light of every morning was in the hallway, and she was curious to know from her mother what the strangeness her sister had encountered was. However, on the stairs, she felt a strange cold breeze on her face and it only meant one thing: the front door was open. While watching television programs, she had occasionally imagined that scene, but had never thought that one day it would become real. The front door to the left of the TV and sofa was wide open. Her parents were standing talking, but above all, the interlocutors were three police officers. That same sight caused her to tear up, as if a gust of onion wind blew straight into her eyes. She paused for a moment, then hurried down. "Mom, what's going on?" The woman turned her head, with two empty eyes that Lilla couldn't decipher. Lilla, on the other hand, felt mocked. She was fourteen years old and demanded an answer. "Is Dad in trouble?" He worked for the municipality, although she had never been too interested in the details and now hated that fact. She had imagined her father being in some sort of trouble, like embezzlement, fraud, or similar. "Lilly, go back to your room," her mother said. Was she mistaken or was that voice trembling? "But what..." "Don't argue, go back to your room." This time the anomaly was far more than a trembling. In that voice, there was genuine terror, and she swore she saw a tear on her mother's face. "Now," she continued, although there was no conviction in that word, which was merely said superficially. analyze and comment the following story. indicates which genre it belongs to and what should be the minimum age to read it. eventually vote it between 1 and 10 Of the 12 columns that supported the building, two had been damaged in multiple places due to the bombing, and a third of the windows were broken. Outside, a snowstorm raged with all its violence, hitting everything in its way, such as streetlights and trees. The main stairs, once completely white, were now stained with blood all around. The initial fire had lost much of its intensity, but small fires were occasionally scattered on the lower levels. "You've gone wild, haven't you?" said a boy with a physique resembling a bedside lamp, bony and narrow but with a big head and black wavy hair, making his way by kicking away the rubble on the stairs. To the right of the stairs was a plumper young man and a boy with a worried expression and a vigilant look. All three wore long black clothes like crows and carried a one-meter and forty-centimeter rifle. The boy behind Archangel, in particular, kept fidgeting with the rifle, almost like an animal trying to escape. "How many have you killed?" "A dozen girls and twenty boys," replied the lamp-eared boy as he descended the stairs. Then he turned his attention to the boy behind his comrade. "Who is he?" "He's one of us. I recruited him, and I think he'll be worth it," the plump guy replied. The lamp-eared boy completed his descent and approached the two, stopping at a distance of more than a meter. The boy was a little uneasy since he was meeting him for the first time, especially in that manner, but he tried to stay serious. Stain knelt down and turned directly to him, bringing a hand to the boy's cheek and holding the rifle vertically with the other. "How should I address you, little one?" The boy swallowed, then opened his mouth and pronounced every syllable as clearly as possible with a ringing tone. "My name is <PRESIDIO_ANONYMIZED_PERSON>..." "Ssstt" Aeron realized that he had two fingers blocking his words, which were dirty and smelled absurdly of gunpowder. "This is neither the time nor the place to use your real name. Archangel may have mentioned your code name already." Aeron still had his fingers covering his mouth, so he pushed his head down twice, precisely and composedly. "Lightning," he mumbled. "That's the code name I've chosen." "Lightning. Good, I understand," replied Stain. There were a few long moments of drowned and embarrassed silence. Stain had shifted his gaze and was staring at Archangel - his friend along with Lightning - with a reproachful look. There were no words, but that gesture clearly meant, "Where the hell did you find this kid?" "As for you," he said as a desperate move to break the silence. "Are you Kommander or Frankenstein?" "Stein is fine, thanks for asking," then hesitated. "By the way, where is he?" asked Archangel. For the second time, an embarrassing silence ensued, and Lightning had the feeling that he was responsible for it again. "He's still upstairs, I presume," replied Stain. "He should hurry up," continued Archangel. "The special forces will be here any moment, and I want to be out of here when they arrive." Stain looked at his watch. "Strange. It's always so precise." "Do you think we should call him?" asked Archangel, as he brought his hand to the pocket where he had the transceiver (they could not use regular phones). "I'm already here," echoed a voice. An athletic, tall young man descended from the second floor, and the place fell silent again. His steps echoed throughout the building and had a regular and composed rhythm. Lightning, who had never seen Kommander, narrowed his eyes to see who had come down the stairs. To begin with, his clothes were not black, at least not entirely. Some parts of the suit were blue and white. He had a typical western boy's face, even beautiful, Lightning thought, with turquoise eyes and tame hair. The complexion, on the other hand, was just slightly yellowish, but Lightning guessed it was because of the murders, and he was relieved not to be the only one suffering from unhealthy effects. "Where were you?" Stain spoke with an annoyed tone. "Have you seen Stullenbird?" Kommander asked. His voice is as soft as clouds, Lightning thought. Archangel seemed puzzled. "You're not still chasing after that bastard, are you?" "I almost killed him. I was so close," Kommander said once he arrived on the ground. "But Wakendos and a girl got in the way, and he escaped." "We haven't seen him. Time flies when you're having fun," said Archangel. Lightning looked up. "Come to think of it," and he stopped because he realized how sharp his voice was compared to the others. "The elevator was on the ground floor a little while ago. When I went down to pick up the fourth rifle, I don't remember seeing the lights on." The boy felt stared at. "Now we know how he did it. He's probably outside, but with the snowstorm, he couldn't have gone far," said Archangel. Lightning smiled timidly, glad that the mind behind that operation had recognized him as one of them without question. "I'm glad to meet you, kid. The DB needs all the help it can get for our cause, especially at this stage." Lightning blushed slightly. "Th...thank you." "Well, gentlemen. You've made your decision in complete freedom, and it's time to face the consequences. From now on, we're terrorists. There's no turning back," said Kommander, clearing his throat. On the night of September 6th to 7th, 2017, at 2:41 am Lilla didn't know what had woken her up, but she found herself in her bed with her eyes open and her mind more ready than ever to reason. The LED night light projected a large purple circle on the ceiling and her stuffed animals were lined up on the couch on the opposite side of the room. Everything was as usual, she thought. She got up, comparing herself to a large architectural construction, and went downstairs. It was an old apartment, with a lacquered balustrade and opened directly onto the living room, where for some reason elusive lights and the buzz of the television filtered in. Her parents were standing and staring at the screen with extreme concentration. It wasn't an unusual event in itself, her mother being a big fan of reality shows and talk shows - especially when the tones got heated - but the fact that her father was there and the unusual hour convinced her that it was perhaps something more important, like an increase in bills, but certainly not a news event. "What are you still doing up at this hour, Mom?" the girl asked. Her parents didn't answer but continued to stare at the screen. It was at that moment that Lilla also glanced at it and caught a glimpse of an image of the Atlanta base, where her sister was studying. "Something bad has happened at your sister's base," said the mother, but it was a tone she had never used before, slow and flat, like under hypnosis. The girl looked back at the screen, which now showed police cars and ambulances, each with their flashing blue sirens. "What happened?" And still without taking their eyes off the device and in the same hypnotic state, the father shook his head "We don't know." Three hours earlier Lightning found himself in the depths of the base in a place he didn't even know existed. In fact, the path dictated by Kommander, the mind behind the operation, was rather counterintuitive; accessible only through maintenance tunnels between one wall and the other, the three boys had to be snug to get through it. They followed a long ladder that led them to the foundations of the building, until they found themselves in a sort of drainage area illuminated by a reddish light and an unbearable smell of sewage. From there, every noise of the base could be heard, but there was simply nothing to hear. The huge reinforced door they were facing, and even earlier an iron grille, was unknown to all present. They wondered what the hell such a thing was doing there. "As you know," said Kommander, and his oratorical voice came back extremely useful to him. "This building was built in the late '90s. At that time, there was a constant fear of alchemical disasters, and galleries like the one we are facing were mined in case of need. But tonight will be our escape route." Without further ado, Kommander - whose real name was Nivor Aedostul - firmly pushed down the handle of the reinforced door to pull back the door, which opened slowly with a sinister and chilling creak. Archangel had a torch with batteries that emitted a yellowish light that was lost in the depths of the tunnel. He didn't like that detail at all. From there, a simply horrible smell emerged, and he had the unpleasant feeling that that tunnel, at least thirty meters below ground level, full of moisture and moss, had come straight out of his nightmares. He swallowed and then turned his head towards Lightning. "You're not claustrophobic, are you?" The boy shook his head. Well, I am, thought Archangel, although it wasn't a serious form. The first to enter the gallery was Kommander, who had a miner's hat with a torch in his backpack in anticipation of that moment. Stain followed, Archangel and finally Lightning to close the line. "How long is it?" asked Archangel dryly, trying to mask his psychological discomfort. "According to my map, we will emerge from the park. Our allies are waiting for us," replied Kommander. Archangel tried to remember how far the base was from the park. On the surface, about two kilometers, but underground, they could cut some distance. I wonder how deep we are, thought Stain. He couldn't feel anything at all. Archangel, on the other hand, began to fantasize unlikely hypotheses about the journey. He felt completely out of the question to be hunted down by special forces, but he had heard all those stories about alchemical monstrosities that lived as parasites in abandoned places and undergrounds, just like the one where the sunlight didn't reach. Wherever they appeared, he just hoped they would get there quickly. From that day on, nothing would ever be the same. Lilla didn't know what had woken her up, but she found herself in her bed with her eyes open and her mind more ready than ever to reason. The LED night light projected a large purple circle on the ceiling and her stuffed animals were lined up on the couch on the opposite side of the room. Everything was as usual, she thought. She got up, comparing herself to a large architectural construction, and went downstairs. It was an old apartment, with a lacquered balustrade and opened directly onto the living room, where for some reason elusive lights and the buzz of the television filtered in. Her parents were standing and staring at the screen with extreme concentration. It wasn't an unusual event in itself, her mother being a big fan of reality shows and talk shows - especially when the tones got heated - but the fact that her father was there and the unusual hour convinced her that it was perhaps something more important, like an increase in bills, but certainly not a news event. "What are you still doing up at this hour, Mom?" the girl asked. Her parents didn't answer but continued to stare at the screen. It was at that moment that Lilla also glanced at it and caught a glimpse of an image of the Atlanta base, where her sister was studying. "Something bad has happened at your sister's base," said the mother, but it was a tone she had never used before, slow and flat, like under hypnosis. The girl looked back at the screen, which now showed police cars and ambulances, each with their flashing blue sirens. "What happened?" And still without taking their eyes off the device and in the same hypnotic state, the father shook his head "We don't know." Three hours earlier Lightning found himself in the depths of the base in a place he didn't even know existed. In fact, the path dictated by Kommander, the mind behind the operation, was rather counterintuitive; accessible only through maintenance tunnels between one wall and the other, the three boys had to be snug to get through it. They followed a long ladder that led them to the foundations of the building, until they found themselves in a sort of drainage area illuminated by a reddish light and an unbearable smell of sewage. From there, every noise of the base could be heard, but there was simply nothing to hear. The huge reinforced door they were facing, and even earlier an iron grille, was unknown to all present. They wondered what the hell such a thing was doing there. "As you know," said Kommander, and his oratorical voice came back extremely useful to him. "This building was built in the late '90s. At that time, there was a constant fear of alchemical disasters, and galleries like the one we are facing were mined in case of need. But tonight will be our escape route." Without further ado, Kommander - whose real name was Nivor Aedostul - firmly pushed down the handle of the reinforced door to pull back the door, which opened slowly with a sinister and chilling creak. Archangel had a torch with batteries that emitted a yellowish light that was lost in the depths of the tunnel. He didn't like that detail at all. From there, a simply horrible smell emerged, and he had the unpleasant feeling that that tunnel, at least thirty meters below ground level, full of moisture and moss, had come straight out of his nightmares. He swallowed and then turned his head towards Lightning. "You're not claustrophobic, are you?" The boy shook his head. Well, I am, thought Archangel, although it wasn't a serious form. The first to enter the gallery was Kommander, who had a miner's hat with a torch in his backpack in anticipation of that moment. Stain followed, Archangel and finally Lightning to close the line. "How long is it?" asked Archangel dryly, trying to mask his psychological discomfort. "According to my map, we will emerge from the park. Our allies are waiting for us," replied Kommander. Archangel tried to remember how far the base was from the park. On the surface, about two kilometers, but underground, they could cut some distance. I wonder how deep we are, thought Stain. He couldn't feel anything at all. Archangel, on the other hand, began to fantasize unlikely hypotheses about the journey. He felt completely out of the question to be hunted down by special forces, but he had heard all those stories about alchemical monstrosities that lived as parasites in abandoned places and undergrounds, just like the one where the sunlight didn't reach. Wherever they appeared, he just hoped they would get there quickly. From that day on, nothing would ever be the same. However, Lilla was obedient and at fourteen, she complied with what she was told without further resistance, although in doing so she looked back several times. Half an hour later, when Lilla was lying on the bed listening to music to relieve the tension, someone knocked on the other side of the door, but she didn't hear it. First, her father and then her mother, advanced a step but no further. But what... did Lilla wonder. Her mother couldn't bear the weight of the moment and burst into tears, then fled down the stairs. "Dad, what's going on?" He was a tall, beardless man, not very sturdy. He sat on the other side of the room, in the middle of the couch surrounded by stuffed animals, and couldn't look his daughter in the eye. "I think I figured out what happened at the base," said the daughter in a vain attempt to reassure her parents. "Another alchemical accident, right?" The father, still with his head bowed, shook his head. "No. Alchemy has nothing to do with it." "Then what?" Lilla tried to sort out her memories. There was a girl involved who had suffered a serious offense, and the defendants were responsible for it. "They talked to me about it," she muttered, but later tried to retrieve some clips. "Well, not everyone agreed with how it ended." That conversation was turning out to be more difficult than expected. "When people don't like something, it's entirely legitimate to oppose it. After all, we live in a democracy." "Of course," the daughter said promptly. "So there was a protest at the base." From the expression on her father's face, she understood that was not where he wanted to go. "Very violent kids made some questionable decisions." "What decision?" "They decided to hurt people."

USER: analyze and comment the following story. indicates which genre it belongs to and what should be the minimum age to read it. eventually vote it between 1 and 10 Of the 12 columns that supported the building, two had been damaged in multiple places due to the bombing, and a third of the windows were broken. Outside, a snowstorm raged with all its violence, hitting everything in its way, such as streetlights and trees. The main stairs, once completely white, were now stained with blood all around. The initial fire had lost much of its intensity, but small fires were occasionally scattered on the lower levels. "You've gone wild, haven't you?" said a boy with a physique resembling a bedside lamp, bony and narrow but with a big head and black wavy hair, making his way by kicking away the rubble on the stairs. To the right of the stairs was a plumper young man and a boy with a worried expression and a vigilant look. All three wore long black clothes like crows and carried a one-meter and forty-centimeter rifle. The boy behind Archangel, in particular, kept fidgeting with the rifle, almost like an animal trying to escape. "How many have you killed?" "A dozen girls and twenty boys," replied the lamp-eared boy as he descended the stairs. Then he turned his attention to the boy behind his comrade. "Who is he?" "He's one of us. I recruited him, and I think he'll be worth it," the plump guy replied. The lamp-eared boy completed his descent and approached the two, stopping at a distance of more than a meter. The boy was a little uneasy since he was meeting him for the first time, especially in that manner, but he tried to stay serious. Stain knelt down and turned directly to him, bringing a hand to the boy's cheek and holding the rifle vertically with the other. "How should I address you, little one?" The boy swallowed, then opened his mouth and pronounced every syllable as clearly as possible with a ringing tone. "My name is <PRESIDIO_ANONYMIZED_PERSON>..." "Ssstt" Aeron realized that he had two fingers blocking his words, which were dirty and smelled absurdly of gunpowder. "This is neither the time nor the place to use your real name. Archangel may have mentioned your code name already." Aeron still had his fingers covering his mouth, so he pushed his head down twice, precisely and composedly. "Lightning," he mumbled. "That's the code name I've chosen." "Lightning. Good, I understand," replied Stain. There were a few long moments of drowned and embarrassed silence. Stain had shifted his gaze and was staring at Archangel - his friend along with Lightning - with a reproachful look. There were no words, but that gesture clearly meant, "Where the hell did you find this kid?" "As for you," he said as a desperate move to break the silence. "Are you Kommander or Frankenstein?" "Stein is fine, thanks for asking," then hesitated. "By the way, where is he?" asked Archangel. For the second time, an embarrassing silence ensued, and Lightning had the feeling that he was responsible for it again. "He's still upstairs, I presume," replied Stain. "He should hurry up," continued Archangel. "The special forces will be here any moment, and I want to be out of here when they arrive." Stain looked at his watch. "Strange. It's always so precise." "Do you think we should call him?" asked Archangel, as he brought his hand to the pocket where he had the transceiver (they could not use regular phones). "I'm already here," echoed a voice. An athletic, tall young man descended from the second floor, and the place fell silent again. His steps echoed throughout the building and had a regular and composed rhythm. Lightning, who had never seen Kommander, narrowed his eyes to see who had come down the stairs. To begin with, his clothes were not black, at least not entirely. Some parts of the suit were blue and white. He had a typical western boy's face, even beautiful, Lightning thought, with turquoise eyes and tame hair. The complexion, on the other hand, was just slightly yellowish, but Lightning guessed it was because of the murders, and he was relieved not to be the only one suffering from unhealthy effects. "Where were you?" Stain spoke with an annoyed tone. "Have you seen Stullenbird?" Kommander asked. His voice is as soft as clouds, Lightning thought. Archangel seemed puzzled. "You're not still chasing after that bastard, are you?" "I almost killed him. I was so close," Kommander said once he arrived on the ground. "But Wakendos and a girl got in the way, and he escaped." "We haven't seen him. Time flies when you're having fun," said Archangel. Lightning looked up. "Come to think of it," and he stopped because he realized how sharp his voice was compared to the others. "The elevator was on the ground floor a little while ago. When I went down to pick up the fourth rifle, I don't remember seeing the lights on." The boy felt stared at. "Now we know how he did it. He's probably outside, but with the snowstorm, he couldn't have gone far," said Archangel. Lightning smiled timidly, glad that the mind behind that operation had recognized him as one of them without question. "I'm glad to meet you, kid. The DB needs all the help it can get for our cause, especially at this stage." Lightning blushed slightly. "Th...thank you." "Well, gentlemen. You've made your decision in complete freedom, and it's time to face the consequences. From now on, we're terrorists. There's no turning back," said Kommander, clearing his throat. On the night of September 6th to 7th, 2017, at 2:41 am Lilla didn't know what had woken her up, but she found herself in her bed with her eyes open and her mind more ready than ever to reason. The LED night light projected a large purple circle on the ceiling and her stuffed animals were lined up on the couch on the opposite side of the room. Everything was as usual, she thought. She got up, comparing herself to a large architectural construction, and went downstairs. It was an old apartment, with a lacquered balustrade and opened directly onto the living room, where for some reason elusive lights and the buzz of the television filtered in. Her parents were standing and staring at the screen with extreme concentration. It wasn't an unusual event in itself, her mother being a big fan of reality shows and talk shows - especially when the tones got heated - but the fact that her father was there and the unusual hour convinced her that it was perhaps something more important, like an increase in bills, but certainly not a news event. "What are you still doing up at this hour, Mom?" the girl asked. Her parents didn't answer but continued to stare at the screen. It was at that moment that Lilla also glanced at it and caught a glimpse of an image of the Atlanta base, where her sister was studying. "Something bad has happened at your sister's base," said the mother, but it was a tone she had never used before, slow and flat, like under hypnosis. The girl looked back at the screen, which now showed police cars and ambulances, each with their flashing blue sirens. "What happened?" And still without taking their eyes off the device and in the same hypnotic state, the father shook his head "We don't know." Three hours earlier Lightning found himself in the depths of the base in a place he didn't even know existed. In fact, the path dictated by Kommander, the mind behind the operation, was rather counterintuitive; accessible only through maintenance tunnels between one wall and the other, the three boys had to be snug to get through it. They followed a long ladder that led them to the foundations of the building, until they found themselves in a sort of drainage area illuminated by a reddish light and an unbearable smell of sewage. From there, every noise of the base could be heard, but there was simply nothing to hear. The huge reinforced door they were facing, and even earlier an iron grille, was unknown to all present. They wondered what the hell such a thing was doing there. "As you know," said Kommander, and his oratorical voice came back extremely useful to him. "This building was built in the late '90s. At that time, there was a constant fear of alchemical disasters, and galleries like the one we are facing were mined in case of need. But tonight will be our escape route." Without further ado, Kommander - whose real name was Nivor Aedostul - firmly pushed down the handle of the reinforced door to pull back the door, which opened slowly with a sinister and chilling creak. Archangel had a torch with batteries that emitted a yellowish light that was lost in the depths of the tunnel. He didn't like that detail at all. From there, a simply horrible smell emerged, and he had the unpleasant feeling that that tunnel, at least thirty meters below ground level, full of moisture and moss, had come straight out of his nightmares. He swallowed and then turned his head towards Lightning. "You're not claustrophobic, are you?" The boy shook his head. Well, I am, thought Archangel, although it wasn't a serious form. The first to enter the gallery was Kommander, who had a miner's hat with a torch in his backpack in anticipation of that moment. Stain followed, Archangel and finally Lightning to close the line. "How long is it?" asked Archangel dryly, trying to mask his psychological discomfort. "According to my map, we will emerge from the park. Our allies are waiting for us," replied Kommander. Archangel tried to remember how far the base was from the park. On the surface, about two kilometers, but underground, they could cut some distance. I wonder how deep we are, thought Stain. He couldn't feel anything at all. Archangel, on the other hand, began to fantasize unlikely hypotheses about the journey. He felt completely out of the question to be hunted down by special forces, but he had heard all those stories about alchemical monstrosities that lived as parasites in abandoned places and undergrounds, just like the one where the sunlight didn't reach. Wherever they appeared, he just hoped they would get there quickly. From that day on, nothing would ever be the same. Lilla didn't know what had woken her up, but she found herself in her bed with her eyes open and her mind more ready than ever to reason. The LED night light projected a large purple circle on the ceiling and her stuffed animals were lined up on the couch on the opposite side of the room. Everything was as usual, she thought. She got up, comparing herself to a large architectural construction, and went downstairs. It was an old apartment, with a lacquered balustrade and opened directly onto the living room, where for some reason elusive lights and the buzz of the television filtered in. Her parents were standing and staring at the screen with extreme concentration. It wasn't an unusual event in itself, her mother being a big fan of reality shows and talk shows - especially when the tones got heated - but the fact that her father was there and the unusual hour convinced her that it was perhaps something more important, like an increase in bills, but certainly not a news event. "What are you still doing up at this hour, Mom?" the girl asked. Her parents didn't answer but continued to stare at the screen. It was at that moment that Lilla also glanced at it and caught a glimpse of an image of the Atlanta base, where her sister was studying. "Something bad has happened at your sister's base," said the mother, but it was a tone she had never used before, slow and flat, like under hypnosis. The girl looked back at the screen, which now showed police cars and ambulances, each with their flashing blue sirens. "What happened?" And still without taking their eyes off the device and in the same hypnotic state, the father shook his head "We don't know." Three hours earlier Lightning found himself in the depths of the base in a place he didn't even know existed. In fact, the path dictated by Kommander, the mind behind the operation, was rather counterintuitive; accessible only through maintenance tunnels between one wall and the other, the three boys had to be snug to get through it. They followed a long ladder that led them to the foundations of the building, until they found themselves in a sort of drainage area illuminated by a reddish light and an unbearable smell of sewage. From there, every noise of the base could be heard, but there was simply nothing to hear. The huge reinforced door they were facing, and even earlier an iron grille, was unknown to all present. They wondered what the hell such a thing was doing there. "As you know," said Kommander, and his oratorical voice came back extremely useful to him. "This building was built in the late '90s. At that time, there was a constant fear of alchemical disasters, and galleries like the one we are facing were mined in case of need. But tonight will be our escape route." Without further ado, Kommander - whose real name was Nivor Aedostul - firmly pushed down the handle of the reinforced door to pull back the door, which opened slowly with a sinister and chilling creak. Archangel had a torch with batteries that emitted a yellowish light that was lost in the depths of the tunnel. He didn't like that detail at all. From there, a simply horrible smell emerged, and he had the unpleasant feeling that that tunnel, at least thirty meters below ground level, full of moisture and moss, had come straight out of his nightmares. He swallowed and then turned his head towards Lightning. "You're not claustrophobic, are you?" The boy shook his head. Well, I am, thought Archangel, although it wasn't a serious form. The first to enter the gallery was Kommander, who had a miner's hat with a torch in his backpack in anticipation of that moment. Stain followed, Archangel and finally Lightning to close the line. "How long is it?" asked Archangel dryly, trying to mask his psychological discomfort. "According to my map, we will emerge from the park. Our allies are waiting for us," replied Kommander. Archangel tried to remember how far the base was from the park. On the surface, about two kilometers, but underground, they could cut some distance. I wonder how deep we are, thought Stain. He couldn't feel anything at all. Archangel, on the other hand, began to fantasize unlikely hypotheses about the journey. He felt completely out of the question to be hunted down by special forces, but he had heard all those stories about alchemical monstrosities that lived as parasites in abandoned places and undergrounds, just like the one where the sunlight didn't reach. Wherever they appeared, he just hoped they would get there quickly. From that day on, nothing would ever be the same. However, Lilla was obedient and at fourteen, she complied with what she was told without further resistance, although in doing so she looked back several times. Half an hour later, when Lilla was lying on the bed listening to music to relieve the tension, someone knocked on the other side of the door, but she didn't hear it. First, her father and then her mother, advanced a step but no further. But what... did Lilla wonder. Her mother couldn't bear the weight of the moment and burst into tears, then fled down the stairs. "Dad, what's going on?" He was a tall, beardless man, not very sturdy. He sat on the other side of the room, in the middle of the couch surrounded by stuffed animals, and couldn't look his daughter in the eye. "I think I figured out what happened at the base," said the daughter in a vain attempt to reassure her parents. "Another alchemical accident, right?" The father, still with his head bowed, shook his head. "No. Alchemy has nothing to do with it." "Then what?" Lilla tried to sort out her memories. There was a girl involved who had suffered a serious offense, and the defendants were responsible for it. "They talked to me about it," she muttered, but later tried to retrieve some clips. "Well, not everyone agreed with how it ended." That conversation was turning out to be more difficult than expected. "When people don't like something, it's entirely legitimate to oppose it. After all, we live in a democracy." "Of course," the daughter said promptly. "So there was a protest at the base." From the expression on her father's face, she understood that was not where he wanted to go. "Very violent kids made some questionable decisions." "What decision?" "They decided to hurt people."

USER: analyze and comment the following story. indicates which genre it belongs to and what should be the minimum age to read it. eventually vote it between 1 and 10 Of the 12 columns that supported the building, two had been damaged in multiple places due to the bombing, and a third of the windows were broken. Outside, a snowstorm raged with all its violence, hitting everything in its way, such as streetlights and trees. The main stairs, once completely white, were now stained with blood all around. The initial fire had lost much of its intensity, but small fires were occasionally scattered on the lower levels. "You've gone wild, haven't you?" said a boy with a physique resembling a bedside lamp, bony and narrow but with a big head and black wavy hair, making his way by kicking away the rubble on the stairs. To the right of the stairs was a plumper young man and a boy with a worried expression and a vigilant look. All three wore long black clothes like crows and carried a one-meter and forty-centimeter rifle. The boy behind Archangel, in particular, kept fidgeting with the rifle, almost like an animal trying to escape. "How many have you killed?" "A dozen girls and twenty boys," replied the lamp-eared boy as he descended the stairs. Then he turned his attention to the boy behind his comrade. "Who is he?" "He's one of us. I recruited him, and I think he'll be worth it," the plump guy replied. The lamp-eared boy completed his descent and approached the two, stopping at a distance of more than a meter. The boy was a little uneasy since he was meeting him for the first time, especially in that manner, but he tried to stay serious. Stain knelt down and turned directly to him, bringing a hand to the boy's cheek and holding the rifle vertically with the other. "How should I address you, little one?" The boy swallowed, then opened his mouth and pronounced every syllable as clearly as possible with a ringing tone. "My name is <PRESIDIO_ANONYMIZED_PERSON>..." "Ssstt" Aeron realized that he had two fingers blocking his words, which were dirty and smelled absurdly of gunpowder. "This is neither the time nor the place to use your real name. Archangel may have mentioned your code name already." Aeron still had his fingers covering his mouth, so he pushed his head down twice, precisely and composedly. "Lightning," he mumbled. "That's the code name I've chosen." "Lightning. Good, I understand," replied Stain. There were a few long moments of drowned and embarrassed silence. Stain had shifted his gaze and was staring at Archangel - his friend along with Lightning - with a reproachful look. There were no words, but that gesture clearly meant, "Where the hell did you find this kid?" "As for you," he said as a desperate move to break the silence. "Are you Kommander or Frankenstein?" "Stein is fine, thanks for asking," then hesitated. "By the way, where is he?" asked Archangel. For the second time, an embarrassing silence ensued, and Lightning had the feeling that he was responsible for it again. "He's still upstairs, I presume," replied Stain. "He should hurry up," continued Archangel. "The special forces will be here any moment, and I want to be out of here when they arrive." Stain looked at his watch. "Strange. It's always so precise." "Do you think we should call him?" asked Archangel, as he brought his hand to the pocket where he had the transceiver (they could not use regular phones). "I'm already here," echoed a voice. An athletic, tall young man descended from the second floor, and the place fell silent again. His steps echoed throughout the building and had a regular and composed rhythm. Lightning, who had never seen Kommander, narrowed his eyes to see who had come down the stairs. To begin with, his clothes were not black, at least not entirely. Some parts of the suit were blue and white. He had a typical western boy's face, even beautiful, Lightning thought, with turquoise eyes and tame hair. The complexion, on the other hand, was just slightly yellowish, but Lightning guessed it was because of the murders, and he was relieved not to be the only one suffering from unhealthy effects. "Where were you?" Stain spoke with an annoyed tone. "Have you seen Stullenbird?" Kommander asked. His voice is as soft as clouds, Lightning thought. Archangel seemed puzzled. "You're not still chasing after that bastard, are you?" "I almost killed him. I was so close," Kommander said once he arrived on the ground. "But Wakendos and a girl got in the way, and he escaped." "We haven't seen him. Time flies when you're having fun," said Archangel. Lightning looked up. "Come to think of it," and he stopped because he realized how sharp his voice was compared to the others. "The elevator was on the ground floor a little while ago. When I went down to pick up the fourth rifle, I don't remember seeing the lights on." The boy felt stared at. "Now we know how he did it. He's probably outside, but with the snowstorm, he couldn't have gone far," said Archangel. Lightning smiled timidly, glad that the mind behind that operation had recognized him as one of them without question. "I'm glad to meet you, kid. The DB needs all the help it can get for our cause, especially at this stage." Lightning blushed slightly. "Th...thank you." "Well, gentlemen. You've made your decision in complete freedom, and it's time to face the consequences. From now on, we're terrorists. There's no turning back," said Kommander, clearing his throat. On the night of September 6th to 7th, 2017, at 2:41 am Lilla didn't know what had woken her up, but she found herself in her bed with her eyes open and her mind more ready than ever to reason. The LED night light projected a large purple circle on the ceiling and her stuffed animals were lined up on the couch on the opposite side of the room. Everything was as usual, she thought. She got up, comparing herself to a large architectural construction, and went downstairs. It was an old apartment, with a lacquered balustrade and opened directly onto the living room, where for some reason elusive lights and the buzz of the television filtered in. Her parents were standing and staring at the screen with extreme concentration. It wasn't an unusual event in itself, her mother being a big fan of reality shows and talk shows - especially when the tones got heated - but the fact that her father was there and the unusual hour convinced her that it was perhaps something more important, like an increase in bills, but certainly not a news event. "What are you still doing up at this hour, Mom?" the girl asked. Her parents didn't answer but continued to stare at the screen. It was at that moment that Lilla also glanced at it and caught a glimpse of an image of the Atlanta base, where her sister was studying. "Something bad has happened at your sister's base," said the mother, but it was a tone she had never used before, slow and flat, like under hypnosis. The girl looked back at the screen, which now showed police cars and ambulances, each with their flashing blue sirens. "What happened?" And still without taking their eyes off the device and in the same hypnotic state, the father shook his head "We don't know." Three hours earlier Lightning found himself in the depths of the base in a place he didn't even know existed. In fact, the path dictated by Kommander, the mind behind the operation, was rather counterintuitive; accessible only through maintenance tunnels between one wall and the other, the three boys had to be snug to get through it. They followed a long ladder that led them to the foundations of the building, until they found themselves in a sort of drainage area illuminated by a reddish light and an unbearable smell of sewage. From there, every noise of the base could be heard, but there was simply nothing to hear. The huge reinforced door they were facing, and even earlier an iron grille, was unknown to all present. They wondered what the hell such a thing was doing there. "As you know," said Kommander, and his oratorical voice came back extremely useful to him. "This building was built in the late '90s. At that time, there was a constant fear of alchemical disasters, and galleries like the one we are facing were mined in case of need. But tonight will be our escape route." Without further ado, Kommander - whose real name was Nivor Aedostul - firmly pushed down the handle of the reinforced door to pull back the door, which opened slowly with a sinister and chilling creak. Archangel had a torch with batteries that emitted a yellowish light that was lost in the depths of the tunnel. He didn't like that detail at all. From there, a simply horrible smell emerged, and he had the unpleasant feeling that that tunnel, at least thirty meters below ground level, full of moisture and moss, had come straight out of his nightmares. He swallowed and then turned his head towards Lightning. "You're not claustrophobic, are you?" The boy shook his head. Well, I am, thought Archangel, although it wasn't a serious form. The first to enter the gallery was Kommander, who had a miner's hat with a torch in his backpack in anticipation of that moment. Stain followed, Archangel and finally Lightning to close the line. "How long is it?" asked Archangel dryly, trying to mask his psychological discomfort. "According to my map, we will emerge from the park. Our allies are waiting for us," replied Kommander. Archangel tried to remember how far the base was from the park. On the surface, about two kilometers, but underground, they could cut some distance. I wonder how deep we are, thought Stain. He couldn't feel anything at all. Archangel, on the other hand, began to fantasize unlikely hypotheses about the journey. He felt completely out of the question to be hunted down by special forces, but he had heard all those stories about alchemical monstrosities that lived as parasites in abandoned places and undergrounds, just like the one where the sunlight didn't reach. Wherever they appeared, he just hoped they would get there quickly. From that day on, nothing would be the same again. Lilla woke up in an unfamiliar and hostile world. Everything she thought she knew about the world had been swept away in just one night. Her life was far from perfect, but at least she had some reference points. She knew she had a sister, Sushanna, who had been taken to the city base and who probably awaited a similar future. In the meantime, she took extra courses at public school. She thought she knew Atlanta like the back of her hand, both in terms of its streets and political landscape. It wasn't a city that liked to change. The first new thing of the day was that she didn't have to go to school. Her mother communicated this to her early in the morning, though she was a bit cryptic and brief in her warning. "Lilly, the schools will be closed today. Just go back to sleep." She would do so for ten minutes, fifteen at most, but then her biological clock would take over, programmed to wake her up at seven sharp. After a while, she remembered the incident from the night before when she saw her parents staring blankly at the television. In her heart, that detail didn't worry her. It was a psychological effect, where if a message is delivered only once, it is not given too much importance. She remained convinced that whatever had happened at the base was just a margin note in a long series of margin notes, so insignificant that it wasn't necessary to know the details. Protected from the autumn breeze by her pink pajamas, she got up with only a pair of rather soft slippers with cat-shaped ends on the floor. She opened the room, feeling dizzy and out of breath. Once awake, she had a routine of brushing her teeth, peeing, etc. Since there was no school that day, she took her time. The usual bright light of all the mornings shone in the hallway, and she was curious to hear from her mother what peculiarity her sister had dealt with. But on the stairs, she felt a strange cold breeze on her face indicating only one thing: the front door was open. She had imagined this scene while watching TV programs, but she had never thought that one day it would become a reality. The front door to the left of the TV with the sofa was completely open. Her parents were standing talking, but above all, the interlocutors were three policemen. That same sight caused her to tear up, as if a gust of onion vapor had gone straight into her eyes. She stopped for a moment, then continued her descent quickly. "Mum, what's going on?" The woman turned her head, had two empty eyes that Lilla couldn't decipher. Lilla felt mocked. She was fourteen years old and demanded an answer. "Is Dad in trouble?" He worked for the municipality, although she had never been too interested in the details and at that moment hated herself for it. In her mind, she had imagined that her father was in some kind of trouble, such as embezzlement, fraud, or the like. "Lilly, go back to your room," her mother said. Was she mistaken or was that voice trembling? "But what..." "Don't argue, go back to your room." This time the anomaly was much more than a tremor. In that voice, there was genuine terror, and she swore she saw a tear on her mother's face. "Now," she continued, although there was no conviction in that word, which was said only superficially. But Lilla was obedient and even at fourteen, she did what she was told without further resistance, although she looked back several times while doing so. Half an hour later, when Lilla lay on her bed listening to music to relieve the tension, someone knocked on the opposite side of the door, but she didn't hear it. The parents, first the father and then the mother, took one step forward, but no further. But what...? Lilla thought. The mother couldn't bear the weight of that moment and burst into tears, then fled downstairs. "Dad, what's happening?" He was a tall, clean-shaven man, not very strong. He sat on the other side of the room, in the middle of the sofa surrounded by stuffed animals and couldn't look his daughter in the eyes. "Maybe I understand what happened at the base," the daughter said in a futile attempt to reassure her parents. "Another alchemical incident, right?" Her father, still with his head down, shook it. "No. Alchemy has nothing to do with it." "Then what?" "Do you remember that trial last Tuesday that we forbid you to watch?" Lilla tried to organize her memories. There was a girl who had suffered a serious injustice and the defendants were responsible. "They talked to me about it," she muttered. Later she tried to recover some clips from it. "Well, not everyone agreed with how it ended." That speech was proving to be more difficult than expected. "When people don't like something, it's completely legitimate to oppose it. After all, we live in a democracy." "Of course," the daughter said promptly. "So there was a protest at the base." From the expression on her father's face, she understood that he didn't want to go there. "Some very violent kids made some questionable decisions." "What decision?" "They decided to hurt people."

USER: analyze and comment the following story. indicates which genre it belongs to and what should be the minimum age to read it. eventually vote it between 1 and 10 Of the 12 columns that supported the building, two had been damaged in multiple places due to the bombing, and a third of the windows were broken. Outside, a snowstorm raged with all its violence, hitting everything in its way, such as streetlights and trees. The main stairs, once completely white, were now stained with blood all around. The initial fire had lost much of its intensity, but small fires were occasionally scattered on the lower levels. "You've gone wild, haven't you?" said a boy with a physique resembling a bedside lamp, bony and narrow but with a big head and black wavy hair, making his way by kicking away the rubble on the stairs. To the right of the stairs was a plumper young man and a boy with a worried expression and a vigilant look. All three wore long black clothes like crows and carried a one-meter and forty-centimeter rifle. The boy behind Archangel, in particular, kept fidgeting with the rifle, almost like an animal trying to escape. "How many have you killed?" "A dozen girls and twenty boys," replied the lamp-eared boy as he descended the stairs. Then he turned his attention to the boy behind his comrade. "Who is he?" "He's one of us. I recruited him, and I think he'll be worth it," the plump guy replied. The lamp-eared boy completed his descent and approached the two, stopping at a distance of...

USER: what is the other story?