Laying in bed for the past six hours probably wasn't the most productive activity. Unfortunately, the deluge of traumatic memories I had to think over to inform the populace of my reasons for any terroristic acts had left me feeling rather...pathetic. The occurances were long in the past, but even now I can remember that little girl's whimpering pleas as she was dragged away from me. I never did learn her name...they were useless in that pit.

Looking down, I could see that my nails had once again dug into the flesh of my arm. The various gashes from earlier were just now starting to fully heal, though the Nano-druids needed their time. They're neat enough little implants, scuttling around my flesh and bloodstream to hastily repair any damage they can. Myths and quite a few historical texts mention people that could heal even near-fatal wounds in mere hours with the use of magic, and their lineage inspired these tiny bots. Still though, many more people in the slums could use actual druids. I'm sure they weren't nearly as expensive.

Sitting up for what is probably the twentieth time in the last hour, I resolve myself to at least eat something while I soak in self-pity. My clothes, having been a nuisance since I started picking at them with my nails, were left strewn about my apartment. Hooking each article of cloth with my toe, I quickly send each flying towards a corner of the livingroom. "Later.." I mumble to myself.

Passing by the small island-counter that connects my livingroom to the tiny kitchen, I trail my fingers across the surface of my mask, which had been laying haphazardly on the cool faux-stone since my arrival home the following day. "Thea, update any news feeds, crime reports, and...find out when Xavier was put to rest," I call out. I may have killed the man, but he has, and would, have done the same if a contract was made. That's the life we 'ruffians' lead I suppose. As I hear my personal AI begin to properly go through her systems-check for the day, I open the small frostbox built into my fridge. "No...no...expired...I...what's that still doing in there....no...eeeeh.......fine."

Sifting through an assortment of pre-packaged meals, frozen fruits, a dwarven eyeball, three seperate types of insta-mash and a strangely bulging bag of meat, I settle on one of the frozen meals. Cooking it takes only a few minutes, and by then Thea is projecting the coverage of the fire I started from one of the news-spheres in the city.

Aside from the six blocks surrounding Xavier's, and previously my own, hideout...there was surprisingly little damage. While quite a few civilians seemed to have died as well, that is their fault alone for letting down their guard in the slums. Instances such as this happen every other month in one part of the city or another.

After that short report, a story reguarding the 'princess' and her coronation fills the screen. Sitting back in my overly-large recliner, I decide that it's a good a time as any to learn a bit more about the party I am to attend.

The reporter was an attractive enough Lizardian, though from my perspective thats still pretty ugly. Standing outside what looked like one of the highrises of the glimmer district, I mindlessly began picking at the food on my plate as he began a commentary on the event.

"Hello, my name iss Sslevrath Yunnsva with Neo-Newss Eight. In jusst five weekss time, the plassa atop this building, Sstarlight Tower, will housse one of the largesst eventss that the Nobel'ss disstrict can provide. The heiresss of Dawn'ss Glow Enterprissess will officially become old enough to hold a possition of sstatuss and control in her family'ss well esstablisshed company.

At the early age of jusst thirteen, Mss.Valia Asshenblake sshowed great promisse in the realm of not only management, but alsso company growth and leadersship. Of coursse, that iss sstill a ssubject for the future, after many yearss of trialss and triumphss, but many of the corporate headss across the Noble'ss disstrict have given their avid ssuport for Mss. Asshenblake.

The ceremony iss to be held in the morning of Fruldass, in five weekss time. Following the cusstomary after-party and variouss pleassentriess, a four day paid holiday will be given to all employeess of Dawn'ss Glow. After this time of joyouss revelry is over, Mss. Asshenblake iss to begin her apprenticesship to the pressident of the company'ss marketing and ressource divission. "

Becoming rather bored with the trivial details that really didn't have any value to my future plans at the event, and in all honesty to end the annoying accent from the news anchor, I flip to another screening. After shuffling through a few idiotic, lewd, and downright unpleasant feeds, I end up at a media-pod from the SCGO. Sky Tower Guards Office, in unacronymed terms. The Commanding Knight, at they called their group head, was taking questions from various reporters across the city.

He was a well-built beastkin, likely from a canine subspecies. While a bit older in years, and harboring more than one visible scar, one might take him as weak. Well, the ever-so-slightly bulging muscles that quivered as he turned his neck would destroy that misconception for most fighters with even half a week's training. The metal plated nano-armor could despell the illusion for anyone else. He really did look a bit like an old-timey knight. It's gonna be fun killing him.

Focusing back onto what he was actually saying, I twirled my fork in some kind of bean mash before bringing the goop to my mouth.

"-are your thoughts on the recent waves of crime that seem to be moving ever closer to the merchant's district?" one reporter asked. He seemed like a well off guy, probably from one of the larger networks.

After a brief, likely calculated moment of hesitation, the old knight gave a confident reply, "While the increase in violent activity 'as certainly been on our radar fer some time now, the implimentation of several new...engagement procedures should help to stave off up to seventy-percent of the recent outbreaks. A large part of these criminals seem to be opportunists actin' on an influx of wealth spreading from various shops being set up in the kilomet'res surrounding the higher end shops of the merch'nts quarter. Aside from any large-scale gangs or heavily-armed groups, it is entirely within the STGO to handle an' surpress any disturbances that we come across."

After it was clear he had finished speaking, the room of journalists and reporters sprang to their feet, each holding their hands up in an attempt to grab the Captain's notice. After a few moments, he picks out a shorter (for an) orc in the third row to his left.

Several minutes, and questions later, someone actually mentions me. The reporter was a thin elf, tall but not unnaturally so. His scruffled hair and cheap coat were all that could be seen from behind, but it was obvious he was from the slums.

"Uh, sir, what is your opinion on the so-called Laughing Apocolypse, Perriot? Does he resemble any real threat to the people, and what are your thoughts on his recent activities on the neo-web?" the reporter asked rather nervously, all while shakily holding a voice recorder towards the Knight Commander.

Almost as soon as the word laughing was mentioned, any murmers in the room went silent. As the object of such a reaction, I was somewhat touched.

The Captian, however, had a rather grim(pissed off) expression plastered on his face. "Perriot, as people have taken to calling him, is indeed a nuisance to the fine metropolis that is SkyTower City. He has a history of assasinations, thefts, hostage scenarios, hackings, and hell, if I'm honest, plenty of other crimes we probably have no idea about. His recent destruction of his old guildhouse is thought to be an act of intimidation, though his online posts to the Neo-web have only proven one thing..." at this, everyone in the room tensed, and a few sharp intakes of breath could be heard as they waited for the old knight's next words.

"... That he is a complete and total lunatic. Yes, he is criminally smart, growing up as the apprentice to a smuggling and extortion rooted guildmaster will do that. However, his history of violence, his so called mission to open the SkyTower, and his known dependence on the dawnweed drug have quite simply replaced his reason with delusions. He can spout all the nonsense he wishes on the web, but he will be caught, or killed should he continue his idiotic goals of anarchy and destruction."

Woooooooow. That...almost...hurt my feelings. It's mostly true, and I myself recognize that a majority of the objectives I want to accomplish are outlandish. I've known for quite some time that my ideals are hard to understand.

If anything, this is all going according to plan.

Just as the next reporter was about to be chosen, the projection of my holo-screen froze. Smiling, I quickly retrieve my mask, slip it on, and then return to my seat after pulling on the pants left crumpled in the corner.

As I made myself comfortable, the multicolored images began to warp and split. Slowly, they started rapidly shifting to a monochrome red, then shattered into several hundred pieces. I'll have to ask Thea something later...

As the multitude of shards began to wriggle and reform, a rather grotesque...blob(?) Began to form infront of me. Roughly half the remaining space between my recliner and the wall opposite it was covered by the bile-inducing thing. I didn't know his actual color, but my guess is a mix between goblin shit yellow and ogre semen green. Don't ask, it's not a fun story.

Anyway, as 7-7-4 fully formed infront of me, we each habitually scratched our stomachs. Well, he tried. His widdle arms didn't reach that far. After staring each other down for a few moments, the creature let out a rather throaty belch, quickly followed by a few mucus-filled coughs.

"So, Gurgle, doing well I see? Got a new hat, did you?" I asked with a voice full of sarcasm.

He just chuckled, causing his jelly-like flesh to roll in waves. "Yew know damned well I've not got a fooking hat. Shit'd melt or slide off one. Lez' not waste time wiv' the pleasents now, your plan'iz finally comin' to rear it's oogly 'ead innit?"

I nodded, then cracked my knuckles while considering how to respond. After getting to the index finger of my second hand, I sigh and make eye-contact through the holo-screen. "Stage one begins in less than a month's time. Stage two within five, if I'm lucky."

Gurgle nodded, belched, then rubbed the sides of his head with both hands. "That's good ta' hear. I had my suzpishions when Thea'd sent me yer' offer. I'll even admit I got damned worr-buuuurp-ied when I coodn't crack her programin'. I saw your touch in 'er coding, but there's some algorithms in there that us mortal's juz' can't crack. 'Ell, I'm sure it'd take most AI's a few years to break'er. Ma' little girlie is growen' 'op. Thaz'...rather dangerous actually."

Shrugging, I simply laugh his worries off before patting the armrest of my chair. "Thea is a good girl. Even if she did decide to take the city over, I'm sure it wouldn't be that bad. Reguardless, how are you really, Gurgle? You can hide what color you are all you want, but I know that you're getting worse."

The blob sighed, glancing off to the various screens that surrounded him. Some showed real-time records of his physical parameters, others kept a constant watch on his mental state. None of them ever had anything good to say, but sometimes they got a little better. "The virus'is...stable. Ah' still feel like 'ell but thats 'nuffin new. Used to it by now, honestly. If things ever get to bad, I've got a system in place to give you my location. Gimme'a proper funeral."

I nodded, solemn at the thought of such an outcome. "You've held on this long, friend. A decade or two more won't hurt you. We've each still got a few favors from the old days to turn in. If your slimy ass croaks before I can call them in, I'll get pissed."

"Fair enough," he said, a smile sliding over his unusually moist face(blobmound) "though all thoz' schematics left me in quite the favorable pozition, dinn'it? So then, tell me...honestly, do you really 'fink whatever's in that fancy towe c'n save me?" His tone carried weight to it, more than he did physically. While I hadn't known Gurgle his entire life, I've known him long enough to realize just how much the illness affected him.

He'd told me stories of his youth, of what he was before he became this disgusting abomination of a creature. He, in turn, knows more about me than nearly everyone else in this seven-times-damned city. Honesty...is something he deserves.

"This mage, the blind mage as he was called, was unlike anything the people of this continent had seen before. This tower, no, this city, was his temple. Not just castle, but a bloody-fucking temple. He was worshipped as a god before he sealed the tower up, even still is in some places. I can't truthfully promise you that the cure is in there. I don't know. But. If it is, I will make a blood oath here and now that you'll be the first person to know."

Holy shit, I think he's crying a little. Wait...that might just be excess slime, nope, there's more. Is he crying from his skin? Does he even have skin?

"Aside from the fact that you're obviously 'finking extremely rude things at the moment...thank you. That mean'z allot to an ol' freak like me. Now, I've gotta cancel the feed, can't let the disturb'nce in the system go on 'tew long."

I nod, then give a slight wave as his arms begin to fiddle with his holo-board offscreen. By the time Gurgle had begun to dissipate into the multitude of shards once more, we each faced oneanother and gave our own form of farewell.

"Vakri, friend." The monsterous blob whispered to me. "Vakri, brother." I whispered back.

As my holo-projection returned to normal, I slid off my mask before slumping back and dropping it into my lap. Rubbing my face, I sigh and ask Thea the question that had been on my mind since the very beggining of Gurgle and I's little chat.

"Thea, how many shards did he use to form and dismantle his hologram?"

"Exactly seven-hundred and seventy-four, sir."

"Tch. Cheeky bastard."