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WULFGAR010'S Log, Entry 75328:
I left Richard's apartment-I had failed to convince him to join my cause; worse, I'd alienated a trusted and valued ally...
"Le' ‘im choke onnit, next time he needs yer help" said the Black Spider Of Vengeance inside my head "th' weeak li'l barstid cannae ken the revenge tha' we'll-"
I squelched it under my mental heel; Richard was one of those whom I'd named ‘Sword- Brother'; such thoughts were unworthy of a warrior.
As the ScotIntel saying goes "Every man must string his own bow".
It was MY turn, now.
New York, to my mind, is a filthy, violent, ugly place...
I love it.
The towering soulless buildings, the street-scum and gutter-dwellers, the opportunities for mayhem...the beggars, entertainers, hot dog vendors, cab drivers, supervillians...
There was a sense of isolation that was at odds with the teeming populace.
Dogshite fought with crack vials, used con-doms, medical waste and spent ammunition for the priviledge of covering the asphalt.
Nothing that a rogue asteroid strike wouldn't cure...
I wandered at length amid the grim and grimy streets, feeling the robust pulse of this mad town about me.
I knew that I should return to our rooms, but a feeling of being watched, and a desire to thrash some spalleens that needed it moved me.
I found myself interfering with several petty street-crimes, for the hell of it, mostly. 9 muggings, 2 attempted murders, 5 break-ins, 4 liquor store hold-ups (all in the same block), and one molestation...
As I pulled the perpetrator away from his helpless victim, I was astounded...
Wulfgar010:InternationalHero?!? HERE, in New York City?!?
The shite was a known sex pervert, mercenary, and gafologist.
Wulfgar010:So, ye damned disgrace t' th' merc community, what're ye doin' HERE, o' all places? AN', do no' think tha' ye kin claim coincidence..."
InternationalHero:What are YOU talking about? I'M an honest businessman, a humble importer of spices, on vacation; that poodle propositioned me. She SAID that she was legal...
Wulfgar010: Normally, I would no' deign tae touch ye wi' th' toe o' muh boot, but these are no' normal times. I' ye dinnae talk, there shall be...bloody constraint...
InternationalHero: But I SWEAR that I'm not this ‘InternationalPancakes' guy, HONEST-
Wulfgar010(VO): He talked, and he talked, and by Chrise, said NOTHIN'-until I started dislocating his joints; it turned out that he'd been shadowing Richard, in hopes of finding ME, at the behest of the traditional Secretive Employer.
After his thumbs went, he gave up a phone number with a ‘207' area code.
I popped his jaw for good measure, and left him to the tender mercies of the poodle's owner...
I hoped that Zero could make something of this...
(To be continued...)
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