I alluded to it in my last post, but there was some action this weekend. The police, surprisingly, figured out that I vaporized that bar owner guy, Barry (?). I'm just terrible with names. Fortunately when they arrived I was suited up. I was just about to head over and dispense some plasma-hot revenge on that back-stabbing trollop. Instead, I spent my weekend in a 14-hour stand-off/firefight with a couple dozen armed cops. Fun, right? The good news is that I was victorious (finally!) and defeated all opposition. I am now the unquestioned ruler of a small mid-western town. The bad news is that I'm the unquestioned ruler of a small mid-western town. Frankly, it's not glorious at all. And police are my challenge? Am I a common thug? Where is the splendor and spectacle in that?
All the pointlessness of it just washed over me for a while. I prepared a drink (On the house. I'm the owner after all.) and just drank it in the burned out wreckage of a police cruiser for a while. Then I realized what I needed to do: it's time to take it up a notch. It's time to get into the big leagues. That idiot Green Hunter did what I should have done as soon I got this armor working. Damn you, Hunter! I am going to go the big city, Skyline, and shove a proton cannon down his throat. (And then fire that proton cannon. And incinerate his internal organs. Killing him. Dead, dead.) Yeah, that's sounds good. This current time-continuum is too short to waste with this pittance of a town.
Now, it is on!
Victory! (hollow)
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