Elder_Godspawn:You're being reactivated, old son.NinetySixand2: I was never *deactivated*Elder_Godspawn: Your name is on the books. Red File to Black.NinetySixand2: Hold on there, I was just a bloody consultant. You can't simply just flip me like a switch.Elder_Godspawn: We can, and we have. You're an asset now. What you do with it is up to you, but you're back in the game, #693.NinetySixand2: Seriously?Elder_Godspawn: Deadly. Go looking for MHB. It's of interest. And lose the implants.NinetySixand2:...shit.Elder_Godspawn: Indeed. BCNU.Elder_Godspawn has signed off at 03:33NinetySixand2: ...Be seeing you too...dick.
- Chat logs recovered from a laptop found in a burned out car, Liverpool, England - 17th May.
“We find ourselves
often wondering where things start, when the truth is, they never
do.” Thus spoke Richard Latimer, back when I was someone else
entirely. We were in an anonymous Starbucks, somewhere in Manchester.
It was September 12th, 2001.
