Monday, April 4, 2011

Remember Kids, Don't do Drugs...

... Or the ghost of Teddy Roosevelt will begin staring at you from the ventilation making weird faces. Seriously.
Well. Now I have a nice demon claw mark scar to show off. At least it does not hurt anymore, thank He That Is for Alichino, who has now earned the right for me to refer to him as something other than Bob.
I believe this little incident brings the number of Runners killed by me up to..... FUCKING ONE. At this rate I am destined to join that crowd of faceless grunts that charges the machine gun wielding Runners in the hopes that ONE of them makes it. Once I fully recover, I am actually going to get off my lazy ass this time and kill my targets myself. After that: Vacation. The resurrected Runners and the Hunter can pick up my slack. Should be fun to watch I think.
In the mean time, want another free shot Sagey? This time there will not be a shadow thing interrupting us...

10 comments:

  1. It's voice still echoes in our head. It wants us to sacrifice our own life for it. We desperately want to. But I do not. I do not I do not I do not. I want to live. I want it to suffer I WANT ALL OF IT'S SERVANTS TO SUFFER AS I SUFFER. I see it now. It's faceless visage burning into my eyes, it's arms opened wide to embrace me as if I were it's own. Father father father father father...

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  2. Sorry Morningstar. I've got other fish to fry today. Thanks for the offer though.

    Besides which, I don't want you to use a wound from such a creature as an excuse when I crush you. I want you rested and ready and fully aware of how screwed you are.

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  3. You are no fun at all Sagey. No Fun at all. No fun at all. Itisnofunatall.

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  4. Sorry about what happened bro(did I really just use this word?).

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  5. I got overconfident. A mistake I will not repeat.

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  6. Morningstar, do me a favor: count the comments on this post, including mine.

    My sympathies for your wound, btw. I mean, I'm glad it was you rather than Sage, but I don't like seeing anyone get hurt that bad. =(

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  7. Seven.
    Keep your miserable sympathy.

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  8. Gotta be nine. It says nine, there are nine, Yep NINE. . . ten counting this one.

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