**Here kitty-kitty**

Dear Voronika readers,

Aren’t you a weird bunch. I’ve been following your discussions. So you’ve found poor Hopscotch Enthusiasts (I wonder if Voronika did?). You seem to understand the gravity of the situation. You talk about THEM cautiously.

Yet you still talk.

Curiosity killed the cat, but you’re not cats. OK, I can appreciate that. Let’s talk motivations then.

Why are you doing this? Do you want to save Voronika? Do you really think she wants you to save her? She doesn’t give a rat’s spit about you all.

Look up, someone’s written “gullible” on the ceiling. Why are the symptoms of Voronika’s scary lethal disease so chaotic and stereotypical? What exactly did doctors tell her before they’ve admitted she’s incurable? Has she tried chemo? Psychoanalysis? Antibiotics?

How did she open the door that slammed shut in the first message? She lives in a remote cabin far away from anything after all. Why did she reply to my messages so quickly? If she’s a whistleblower who wants to expose her father’s organization, why do it under the rags, why the site? Why the naked girls that look like an artist’s portfolio? Where’s her proof?

Wake up, sheeple. Or something. You seem to have a certain amount of brainpower, so use it.

-AG

As Voronika so eloquently puts it, P. S. Yes, I’ve hacked the e-mail database. Don’t worry, I’m not as self-centered as Voronika, so I won’t leak it anywhere.

P. P. S. I’m so not-self-centered that I’ll try once more. If any of you receives a parcel from one “Miraculous”, don’t open it. You’re not cats, I get it, but don’t. I’ll buy you a candy or something.