My name is Peter Rassier and I’m writing this in fear that I shall never make it back to my family and home.  While backpacking through Belgium I stumbled upon a small village by the name of Schtroumpf.  It is a curious place.  As I walked through the mostly deserted streets I was, at first, in awe if the old world beauty, but that quaintness has since worn off.  After some digging around I found that all the children were being kept in quarantine at the Azrael center just outside of the village.  As I hid in the tree line the I saw the children out in the yards.  They were…well they were blue.  Bright freaking blue and clad in white hospital gowns.  I tried to just walk away, but I had to know what had happened.  So I ventured closer to the fence where one of the blue children was playing in the dirt.  Such a tiny little thing in a white paper dress with a shock of yellow hair.  At first she was too shy to speak so I plucked a small wildflower and gifted it to her, trying win her over.  Two days later she told me everything.  The Gargamel corporation had spilled something, she wasn’t sure what, but afterwards all the children were moved here for observation and treatment.  Tonight I’m going to attempt to break into the Azrael center and find out what Gragamel is doing.  I want to go home, but the image of that tiny little girl with a wildflower behind her ear haunts me.  I have to try…I have to do what I can to help that Schtroumfette.  If this letter reaches you please send someone, anyone, and quickly because I have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into.

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