Breath Is Just A Clock...Ticking

Well here we are again. Another year. It's all fresh and new, or so they'd have you believe. About the only thing that really changes is the faces on the corpses at my feet. Maybe some see that as bleak. I'm still having fun though. As long as there are people out there, real people who are happy to die, kill or bring life back into this city, I'll keep doing this. Especially since there are so many trusting, naive townies to take advantage of.

I spent a good deal these last two months down in MCM. It felt good to converse with some of my former targets as well as the staff and students there. South Blythville is a fun town and I couldn't resist the occasional random murder. A number of more specific targets got in my way. However I never hunted Sarge Johnson and I still for the life of me can't remember why he was on my naughty list. Oh well, he's dead now. Zerger hardcoreFAKing died too.

And with the best of intentions I stayed on at MCM, assisting as a meat shield mostly, as I did very little killing while in the area. Cobra13 made an appearance as well. I'm a little disappointed that he didn't mutilate my corpse, like he promised some...well almost a year ago now. And then there was norfolk n good aka doberman guy. His opinion really meant nothing to me since, well, he's zerg listed.

But apparently getting killed by zergs DEM, barricading for MCM and talking was being hostile, at least, according one supposed DEM leader and Tookey...it all got very repetitive. Especially since I was well aware of the neutral zone policies oh...about six months ago when I violated them to help out a friend who's since left Malton. In any case, the idiots who got all upset over getting murdered over six months ago have escallated due to a deficit of attention. I suppose they figure the more idiotic they act, the more publicity. Which might be true, but there are steaming piles of idiots all across Malton. Indeed there are billions of them right across the planet. What difference is one more dead one? Why should I waste my energy? I achieved what I was trying to do with a couple bullets in the right place six months ago. To dwell on that would be pretty stupid especially when there are much more interesting, fun targets all around me. It's always how I've managed to perservere in spite of and because of adversity. I have fun. I kill, I am killed, I laugh, I win. I enjoy watching others flail about and eventually become drowned out, swallowed up by pits of their own bullshit. Cruelty doesn't even come into it when one considers the state of affairs in Malton. And I won't deny I'm cruel, manipulative, condescending, detatched, spiteful, wrathful and sometimes downright arrogant. I don't deny that at all. I never claimed to be a saint. I do however, come off like a martyr. Just like christ heh. There's one vital difference though: I don't love my enemies. I have no enemies. They don't exist.

Anyhow, it was time to make some heads roll. Tasselhoff Burfoot died in place of doberman guy who was incapacitated by the time I was ready to fire.

The real reason I wasn't doing much killing was because I was waiting for the right moment to give a lecture. But I absolutely had to formally invite Josh Clark since he was good enough to put me in one of his little propaganda films.



The lecture never happened. But the demonstration I had planned with a couple other rummers, namely dipcup, Duke D'ouevre and Claybourne Duvall went off with a bang.



But my presence in MCM was becoming a bit of a problem. Not for the staff or students but for the Bounty Hunters and the idiots.

So I slept off campus for a while. Naturally I figured one of the 9000 bounty hunters in the area would take advantage of this. And fortunately it was the lovely Fyra Twill. Arthur, to answer your question: I love the south west and yes, I was indeed enjoying the area. The reason I didn't answer you back was because I had to run across town to thank Fyra for stopping by.



I came to rest in the Catcott building in Mornington with aPathetic Bill. I wasn't sure I'd wake up alive. I wasn't certain I wouldn't. But I didn't. Not so much as a call the next day when I was still pretty sure I existed. Hmph. At least Team America were pleased to see me, even if I did miss their christmas carol spectacular inside MCM.

And then there was Brian Mercat. He'd been making claims in MCM. Can't really fault him for it. Myself and a number of others were easy prey there and he wasn't using the neutral zone except to hunt. I'm a little disappointed that he didn't come and claim me again. Perhaps I should be grateful? Either way, I had Red Rum business over in Vinetown. That lecture was going to have to wait yet again. And so myself, the Duke, dipcup and a number of other rummers ran all the way across town. The best part of this was that the bounty hunters were three days behind. So I had a little time to do some celebrating.













And the all was merry and bright. A close personal friend even dropped by to share some rum.



Of course, I tend to over exert myself on holidays. I popped next door to a railway station to sleep off my hangover. This was where I met Stu Lantz, a bright, dashing or, at the very least enthusiastic chap with overly amourous tendancies. I must say, I do have a soft spot for romantics. And Stu was definitely no exception. Indeed, after he axed me for my digits, I was compelled to hit him back.



This left me out in the middle of Houldenbank. And I found myself dead again the next day at the hands of some random brutish amatuer. But all was not lost. Stu was kind enough to arrange a revive for me. And I must say, I don't think I've ever been pricked quite so...uniquely.

I was rather surprised to find some interesting people over this way. I suppose I haven't really given the area much of a chance. Whenever I've been over in Vinetown, Osmondville or the surrounds, it's usually been a brief visit.

In any case, it was new years eve and I decided to spend it it with one of these interesting locals. Much of that night was spent talking...I had a feeling it wouldn't be our last meeting though so I wasn't disappointed to see that Stu had up and wandered off when I woke up.

And it was business as usual the next day. Some random murderer posing as a cop caught the brunt of my hangover. But as I was wandering around outside the night before, looking for a revive point, I noticed a certain "upstart" bounty hunter. I say upstart. Really she's top of her game and almost ready to retire. One of the few bounty hunters in Malton I respect as, not only a peer but an elite huntress. In fact, I'd not even been looking for her as I hadn't ever expected to find her before her retirement. Again I'll chalk this one up as kismet smiling upon me.



Then it was back to business as usual. Cliff Machete died, as did Bad Touch Bob. But Bad Touch Bob was just sloppy seconds. I was getting restless. I needed to move again. But not before Stu and Josh stopped by with wishes of wellness.

I suppose it was fortunate that I received an invitation to dance with the Philosophe Knights back on the West side of Malton. I only suppose it fortunate as I could not stay long. However I did stay long enough to run into Zaruthustra. And thus he spake.

"Before you they feel small, and their baseness glimmers and glows in invisible revenge. Have you not noticed how often they became mute when you stepped among them, and how their strength went from them like smoke from a dying fire? Indeed, my friend, you are the bad conscience of your neighbors: for they are unworthy of you. They hate you, therefore, and would like to suck your blood. Your neighbors will always be poisonous flies; that which is great in you, just that must make them more poisonous and more like flies. Flee, my friend, into your solitude and where the air is raw and strong! It is not your lot to shoo flies."