Delusions of Grandeur

[Guest]

If one were to call it a beautiful scene, they would be lying.

The smell of charred wood hung in the air for kilometres. One of the ruined portions of Central, effected rather badly by the bombs. The moon shimmered overhead; the city was well into the murky depths of night, perhaps even getting close to morning and sunrise.

Swish. Sitting in the ruins of what was once a family home, charred furniture around him, the shattered, burnt door, frame and all, scattered across what were once floorboards, was a man. He stood at over six feet tall, with a lean frame. He wore a thin, black jacket, along with a cloak hung on a nearby, and particularly jagged, plank of wood protruding from what had once been a wall. Swish.

This man was an assassin, Ayden Derocha, although his working hours had finished long ago. Normally, he worked well into the territory of night, using the lack of light to accompany, sometimes, a beautiful silence, although he valued a noisy, yet stylish execution just as highly.

No, this man wasn't in the ruins of a family home, presumably amongst their blackened corpses as well as furniture, for work, or anything remotely like it. He simply wished to find somewhere to sit, somewhere nice and quiet, where he could flip through his book and hum along to Renaissance symphonies, absolutely and perfectly content.

However, he felt his legs begin to twitch, and his hands begin to shake. With a sigh, he realised his body was aching for movement, for action. He chuckled quietly. The job certainly didn't come without its demands. Ayden got to his feet, slipping the book into a small strapped satchel, pulling it on and shifting the actual bag around to his lower back, before grasping his cloak and wrapping it around him, savouring the embrace of the cold, smooth fabric once more.

He ducked underneath what remained of the ceiling, and hopped out of the building as some rubble and a few beams collapsed upstairs, giving it an even more decrepit appearance than usual. He took a wanton stare at it, before shrugging, and idly strolling off... west. Not for any particular reason. For his leisure. For this was a man who took great pleasure and enjoyment in anything he did, be it a work contract or during his less-occupied hours.

"What to do, what to do, what to do..." The voice was faintly audible amidst the shuffling of browned leaves rustling against the pavement as a light breeze swept them off to wherever it pleased.

[Spade Aeries]

There used to be a bar here. It wasn't just any bar; it was Spade's favorite bar. He knew the guy, Frank--black greased back hair, grey eyes, and always wearing that careless smile o' his. Now...he was a charred, blackened form wearing a golden watch. The chain hung off the bone of his wrist, twisted skyward, reaching nothing. The Brigadier General felt empty as he stared upon his ruined city, mourning the loss of the only bartender that ever bothered to ask his name. "Here's to you, Frank: the first drink you recommended me. Sorry it's not tap." The playboy raised his glass, somewhat sad he didn't have a chick on each arm and a bunch of drunk, grinning faces to join in with his toast. But it was the best he could do so at least Frank was satisfied. He pressed the beer to his lips and took a long chug until only foam remained at the bottom and then slammed it down with a lopsided grin. That was the way things got done.

He sideswiped his eyes over to the 12-pack he had sitting next to him and smiled slightly. It was hell getting that shit. Apparently everybody wanted to drink their sorrows away because all of the open stores were practically sold out. It was depressing--almost as depressing as the fact that their own goddamn fuhrer caused this hell. Now what? The people weren't going to trust shit and certainly not the military... It disheartened him greatly, but despite his own growing depression, he had faith in Reila--that stuck up bitch wouldn't let Amestris fall apart. He wasn't sure what his part would be in all of it, but he would do his damned best...after he recovered. And this glorious 12-pack would certainly assist in that. Spade reached over to grab another can and pour it into his empty glass. Watching the yellow liquid fizz against the broken scenery, he gulped it and set it on a singed rock. "I wonder what you'd say Franky. Prolly just tell me to fuck off and actually do something with myself. But what use is it?" He swished the contents of his drink and stared into it as if a mirror, realizing that he hadn't replaced his sunglasses yet. His spares had been destroyed too...along with his apartment he had lived in for his entire stay in Amestris.

A thought occurred to him. His brother Saeji, the emperor...he could request help from Xing. There were no longer any rules--no sort of government establishment in Amestris any longer. Reila, Jet, and Tataki were trying to scrape by on military power and throw together some sort of clean up team. So...why not ask for help? He placed this thought in the confines of his mind and leaned back against a charred wall among broken glass. They had alchemy to rebuild, but... why rebuild if the owners were dead? Spade had a feeling Central would be completely different than it was... And it was a depressing contemplation. He noticed his glass was again empty, and went to pour in another when he caught sight of a person milling by. A person! Humanity! "Yo!" He called out with a quirky smile and bandages peering out from his military uniform. "What brings you to the destroyed part a' town?"

[Guest]

A noise. A voice! Life, something shattering what was otherwise a beautiful silence. Ayden chuckled. He had nothing against the man, of course, he had absolutely no idea who he was. And perhaps... perhaps today it would be more aligned in his favour to start being somewhat more approachable.

The assassin moved towards the source of noise, his neck snapping towards it the moment it became more than ever so slightly audible. A man, sat in front the charred remains of a bar, multiple blackened corpses visible without. Nasty. Not one of the nicest ways to go. Ayden blinked at him for a moment, before realising he'd been addressed.

"Ah, nothing. Just getting some peace and quiet, really. Trying to find a place to read my book," He said, chuckling, lifting a hefty copy of what appeared to be named '101 Amestrian Children's Poems', and, well, from the look of the cover and the edges of yellowed pages, it was either rather old or past its best. "What about you?" His vision moved towards the twelvepack. The man was drinking. Of course. Everyone was. Ayden grimaced. He wasn't a beer man. At all. Fine spirits were more his suit.

Although... this guy, he seemed... perfectly pleasant. A chilled sort of vibe. And it wasn't usual for him to say it, but he liked it. Felt comfortable. With a chuckle, he nervously added. "I'd drink with you, if you'd offer it, but... beer's not really my thing. If you've got some spirits, however, let's just say I wouldn't say no, heh."

A pause. Ayden kicked himself, mentally. The military uniform. How had he not noticed? And then his eyes went up to the epaulettes... wow, those were a lot of stars. This guy was a big player around Central, it seemed. Or perhaps he was from the East, what remained of the South, or maybe even Briggs, just paying a visit to fallen comrades. And bartenders. "It's gonna take some getting used to seeing all these military personnel around after what happened to Central Headquarters, and all. I mean, before the bombs, you hardly ever saw a General out drinking in front of a bar, dilapidated or not, Mr...?" He trailed off, hoping his tone finished the question off perfectly. Perhaps a leisurely comradeship would suit him for the night, after all.

[Spade Aeries]

A book? Spade blinked a slightly bored, slightly intrigued set of emerald eyes. He read the title when it was put on display for him to study. Yellowed pages. Thick contents. Old copy. "Well, at least something survived the bombs," he laughed, running a hand through wavy hair. He wan't a poetry guy. He wasn't even a reading guy. Papery things usually sent him across the room unless otherwise needed for him to find something out like...where a certain someone was or a way to improve his already complex and mind-boggling alchemy. Pagey things like books didn't interest him, and yet... the Central library was burned down...again. He had learned in one of his boring college history classes in Creta that a sect of the Central library had burned down 101 years ago. He stared at the title of the book. Oh irony. Spade poured himself another glass, but said nothing of the thoughts flittering throughout his head.

"What about you?" The man politely replied, actually bothering to care about another human being. Oh, that was a plus. Spade smiled in response, feeling the foreign pullings of his lips. Damn, it's been a while. He opened his mouth to reply, but ended up following the man's eye to his 12-pack of beer. He laughed at the reaction he got and crossed his legs with a wise look.

"Come now, spirits only has 20% alcohol content. It wouldn't hurt to double it for the occasion, would it? This is Schorschbrau Schorschbock one of the best Amestrian beers with 40%. Trust me, if you don't like it, I'll finish it for ya." He liked how the guy invited himself. Normally people didn't have the balls to do something like that. Spade was a-liking this kinda company. It did well to take the edge off his sorrows. He poured himself another glass of the stuff and began drinking it when he heard the silver-haired man's next words. He nearly choked. "...you hardly ever saw a General out drinking in front of a bar..." ...that...was hilarious.

"Spade Aeries. And no, not in front of a bar. In it." He laughed and threw a can at the guy. "What do you call yourself?"

[Guest]

"I was fairly lucky, in all honesty. Most of my stuff survived." He grunted and caught the can, rubbing the side of his nose. "I don't know what sort of pigswill you're drinking at 20%, but..." Silence for a moment as he checked the label. "Wait, did you say... 40%... and you're drinking this stuff like water?" A light, unusual, almost erratic chuckle. "You're either a crazy bastard, or have a few donor livers lined up."

"What's this stuff made from, hops and paint thinner?" He grumbled, before cracking the can open, letting it fizz. He savoured the sound. Perhaps it had been too long since his last beer after all. He took a quick sip... it was... warm. Kinda like beer, but about ten times as strong, the same burning you got in the back of your throat.

Ayden's eyes flicked open. The man was right. This stuff was good. Like firewater. He took another slug, and wiped a small line of froth from his lip, taking a seat on an appropriately-placed beam. "Well, I'm Ayden Derocha. And you seem like a nice enough guy, and there's no point holding this back, I'm going to be too hammered later to hide it from you, so, yeah. I'm an assassin. Kill for money, that sort of thing." He dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "It's nothing."

What was up with him? He was never normally this dismissive about his profession. With the boy, he'd gone on with speech after speech and felt as if he could continue for an eternity. With the man, he simply felt like he wanted to get this out of the way. He shrugged and tried to tune out from his sporadic nature, feeling... friendlier, for a moment, anyway.

He took another few slugs from the tall can until it was near half-empty, smiling and aligning his buttocks so he had a rather pleasant seating on the beam. "So what rank are you, then? I'm guessing you're one of the higher-ups, but, hell, you don't nearly look old enough for it. What, did you sew a few more stars on yourself?" He chuckled, burping. Maybe Spade would react badly to the accusation. Perhaps he'd chuckle and continue drinking. Ayden hoped for the latter. The man was proving to be enjoyable company, not something he savoured too often.

[Spade Aeries]

"I was fairly lucky, in all honesty. Most of my stuff survived."

"Bastard." He laughed, finding it amusing that he lost everything while this unknown guy still had his shit intact. He was so damn unluck-- That was a lie. He watched the guy inspect the label and smirked. No, he wasn't lying. "Doesn't matter either way, does it?" He laughed heartily at the next comment, trying to picture what it would be like to drink paint thinner. All he could imagine was swallowing his dented, beat to shit zippo while it was still lit. Ouch. That shit wasn't happening. Hell no.

He took a swig while studying the stranger's reaction to the heavy liquid. He was already feeling the buzz in his head and was pretty convinced that the sky could fall and he'd laugh. At this point...what the hell worse could happen. This guy could be an assassin out for his life and Spade would point and laugh like he was some doped up stand up comedian that just so happened to be trying to take his life. Spade snickered at his thoughts and at the man's expression. His eyes had lit up as if it were his first time tasting heaven's liquid and well, it was! If he didn't like it, Spade woulda been hella surprised. The guy moved nearer and took seat on a random beam. Looked dangerous. Spade was slightly jealous that his seat was more badass. Damn this guy was good. "'elp yerself ta moar. If I drank all these m'self I'd prolly en dup back at the hicspital. Hahaha fuckitall."

"Well, I'm Ayden Derocha. And you seem like a nice enough guy, and there's no point holding this back, I'm going to be too hammered later to hide it from you, so, yeah. I'm an assassin. Kill for money, that sort of thing."

...

Well, at least he knew that he hadn't been a detective for nothin'. And well, at least the guy wasn't after his life. Spade burst out laughing, his green eyes sharp and intelligent despite the fact that he was hammered himself. That was ironic. His whole damn life was a racetrack of irony sucking out his soul with flashing lights. "That'some job, man. I got no need for stars--just a pack of cigs, a pretty dame, and a few poker chips. I run Central: Brigadier General Spade Aeries at your service. Surprised?"

[Guest]

An eyebrow arched. The man... run these pathetic ruins? Well, that was a surprise indeed. He had done well in not aggravating him, as laid-back as the man appeared. Shifting into the military, becoming a state alchemist, applying for the evaluation... it was a big aspiration of his, and he aimed to do it over the coming month, despite the state of Amestris. The research grant... that was what he really wanted. Plus, the Black Company... together, he'd be more than able to fund more research to delve into the rather colourful yet gleefully disgusting world of biological alchemy.

He decided to voice his initial response, although keeping it curbed somewhat. This man's priority in his book had just shot up. "Oh, really? Wow. Some job. Despite my current line of... employment, if you can call it that, I've been aiming to join the good old military, you know?" He crushed the can in his hand and tossed it into the remains of the bar, letting a quiet burp out as he had a few seconds of disorientation, the alcohol hitting him somewhat. Normally, he could hold his own, on spirits, but, damn, was this stuff STRONG.

He chuckled. "That is, if you'd let me in." The burp escalated and forced itself out once more, and Ayden found a small amount of bile building up at the bottom of his gullet. He grimaced, disgusted, and spat it out. "This stuff is rough," He broke into laughter, feeling himself get giddy, and the ever-so-small reasonable quantity of his brain processes began to hope he didn't attempt to demonstrate his 'weaponry skills'.

"Oh, you're a player, then? Of card games and," He belched once more. "Women?" He subsequently began to cackle like a madmen. Not so unusual for him. After he reached a halt on three successive bouts of insane laughter, he continued. "If you've got a deck, my dear Brigadier General Aeries, we should play a 'lil bit of poker. Or blackjack. I play a meaan card of blackjack. Helps me mess with people when we're gambling on more than money." He winked, trying to get the message across, but then thinking it better to just say it outright.

"Usually sex or their lives." He broke into laughter. "I'm joking, I'm joking. I only do that with one of the two. I think it's the first. Although maybe the second, hmm..." He placed a finger to his chin, his sobriety disappearing at an incredible rate. He belched once more. "Although I wouldn't gamble on either of those with you. I mean, you seem like a nice guy, so, I don't want to kill you, but, I don't bat for that soccer team, either..."

"Wait, did I get that right...?" He paused, thinking on what he'd said and not taking Spade's reaction into account, continuing to ramble as he picked up another can, cracked it open, and took a liberal slug, before shrugging. "Oh well. Fuck it. Wanna play cards?"

[Spade Aeries]

Spade acknowledged the sound of the can clunking away into the bunches of rocks before the man's reaction. This itself was unusual for most people. "Dun litt'r, man, yer making it worse. If u wanna be in the military, u gotta be wary of that fwirst." He placed his glass down and swore that the sky was turning rainbow. Shit, he had to stop. Painkillers mixed with this shit was going to kill him. He laughed, thoroughly joyful despite his criticizing remark. He wished he had his sunglasses. He would be so much cooler with his sunglasses. It took all his energy not to whine out loud about it.

He laughed again when Ayden spat and burped a man's burp. It was so damn entertaining and he didn't know why! Shit, he drank too too much. Goddamn. Hahaha it was funny though. So funny! He shook his head and grinned. "I had tew many. Fuck. Painkillers" So...hard...to...talk...correctly... He just wanted to hurl and sleep in a dumpster with chickens. No, chicks. The ones with the hair and the hips. That smelled good and didn't crow in the morning so he could sleep. "I like woman" His only clear sentence in the last twenty minutes. It was a true fact. He must have said it too many times in his life to ever slur it even while drunk and drugged.

Spade listened to the assassin's joke and didn't get it, which resulted in a pair of jade eyes staring at him for a moment. "Wait how dya gamble width sex?" He tilted his head like a dog to emphasize confusion and because he thought it would be entertaining. The next thing he got from Ayden's words was: "I don't want to kill you." Spade blinked and then burst out laughing like that was the joke. "Well, thaz gud. I dun wanna kill yew eitha. Hahaha!"

The 12-pack was now a four pack. Or whatever; he couldn't count. It was something. "I dun have ne cards width me! Bummmmeerrrrr. But do you seriously wanna join the militarty? Haha military? Might be hawrd width yer...past."

[Guest]

"I like woman"

"Yeah, well I have a dong, so no luck there, man." On the man's command, he went to pick up the first can, finishing the second on his way over, before returning to his makeshift seat and setting them down opposite. "And I'm so not wearing a wig." He was slurring a little, but nowhere near as bad as Spade. Just apparently very enthusiastic.

"Wait how dya gamble width sex?"

"I'm glad you asked!" Ayden rose to his feet, swaying a little bit too heavily for his usual liking, but he was actually kinda enjoying himself. He grasped another beer, cracking it open and sipping it, savouring the taste. It had somehow mysteriously changed to now taste like apples and pears and cherries and rainbows and unicorns and slightly like bile, but he didn't really mind. "It's elementary, my dear man,"

With a pause, he began to act out the... deed of said fornication, with his mysterious and invisible woman somehow on all fours over the fire. Although he didn't drop trow, or even unzip. That would've been a bit nasty. He grimaced at the thought. "If you win at the cards, you take them home, get 'em absolutely hammered, and sleep with 'em!" He grinned, continuing. "And if you lose, you convince 'em to come to the bar with you, buy the first round of drinks, and suddenly you've snuck round the back and drunk from the tap without paying, and you have a burly Cretan man-woman after you, trying to smack your ass with a frying pan."

He paused for a second, almost tripping over. "Wait, I'm not sure that's-" His train of thought was subsequently smashed as he did trip over, somehow miraculously not spilling a drop from the can, but landing flat on his ass, blinking up at Spade as the man continued to speak.

"Might be hawrd width yer...past."

He rose to his feet, thrusting his beer can towards the heavens. "Then I shall bullshit my way in, for I shall be known as," A hiccup. "Ayden the assassin no longer!!" Another hiccup. "I shall become Ayden the Good Samaritan who helps stray dogs across the street, changes the diaper of old grannies, and feeds young toddlers!!" With that, he almost fell over once more, the can somehow miraculously empty after moments.

However, he had now disappeared from view completely, somehow his mouth inches from Spade's ear, hot breath stinking of alcohol as he struggled to keep his 'serious' face. "You gotta keep quiet, though..." He looked from side to side, before moving even closer. "Someone could be watching..."

[Spade Aeries]

"DUN TELL MWE TO B QUIEET!" Spade boomed, probably deafening the long-haired man whose hair he had learned was actually not a wig. News there. It was interesting because Spade's hair was rather long as well, but he was never mistaken for a girl. But somehow he figured that Ayden was the type of guy people would say 'excuse me, miss' to and then be extremely embarrassed when he turned around. Spade had female-dar, which prevented any such scary, terrifying, and nightmarish encounters from happening at all in anyway possible. But why was Ayden mentioning that his hair wasn't a wig? Was he proud of it being long--of looking like a girl to everyone else except Spade? Had he thought that Spade thought he was a girl!? PREPOSTEROUS! Spade was insulted...and he even called the guy 'man' in conversation. Wtf. WTF. NOT COMPUTING...

Spade crushed a random can next to his foot and began retying his bootlaces that had random pieces of thistle stuck to them. Wtf. And the gambling with sex thing. Didn't make sense. Who would wan-- WAIT. Maybe Ayden liked being on the bottom!! He was one of...those. One of...those. The kind that liked getting his ass smacked with...with frying pans. Spade suddenly felt nauseous and he was sure that it wasn't the alcohol. GROSS MAN. He would never...NEVER accept that. No. Just no. Men were meant to lead not....no. Just no. Ugh. He swallowed his own bile and felt the burn, suddenly wanting Alisa. Not wanting her per-say, but wanting to see her again... Or wait...yeah he wanted her. Yes. Lying wasn't cool. He wanted to talk to her too...in bed. She was so beautiful, so curseful, so...Prince Ali! Mighty is he! Ali Ababwa~~ Shit.

He was drunk.

Spade patted Ayden on the head and grinned with slanted jade eyes. "Imma geeve ya a spot in the milritarty...mi..lit..ary. But yew hawvta b cereal yo!"

[Guest]

"DUN TELL MWE TO B QUIEET!"

Immediately, the assassin recoiled, grasping his ears in pain as he shuffled backwards. "Dude, not cool, these are my best pair of ears!" He burbled, clutching them and shooting Spade daggers as he put on a face like a disgruntled seven-year-old schoolgirl who wasn't allowed the latest Barbie doll.

He scurried around drunkenly, grasping a short burnt-up stick and pretending to be famous boy wizard, Hairy Plopper, for a few moments, before Spade spoke again and Ayden found himself rather startled, dropping his 'wand' and reaching for another luscious beer can, leaving but one left in there. He cracked it open and took a liberal slug before listening to what the man had to say.

"Imma geeve ya a spot in the milritarty...mi..lit..ary. But yew hawvta b cereal yo!" Ayden immediately jumped to his feet and saluted, staring off into the middle distance before slurring another sentence.

"Yes sir! I shall be totally and completely Corn Flakes under your command!" He turned away, tapping the can against his chin in thought, breaking salute. "Or should I be Lucky Charms?" Instantly, upon the thought of food, he found himself drooling and his stomach gargling in total synchronisation.

Nevertheless, he stumbled around for a moment, raising the can and toasting over the burning embers that remained of the bar's door. "To doing military things! Like shooting our guns wildly as we drive along in sports cars, and definitely not doing paperwork!" He turned to Spade, certain that was what the military entailed.

"Dude..." He moved up to him once more, having just him there was only one more fresh can left, and sipped his, placing his free hand on Spade's shoulder. "Th-there's... only one can left..." A single tear trailed down his cheek, and then he began to scream, holding his hands up to the sky and 'shouting majestically'; which was to say, one could compare it to a shrieking baby.

[Spade Aeries]

Spade clutched his chest as if Ayden were actually glaring daggers and then pouted like a seven-year-old schoolboy whose porn magazines were discovered under his bed of which he had stolen from his father's collection. Spade himself had no experience with such matters (since his father was an asshole). Then he suddenly realized, bursting from his dysfunctional fiscal piety thoughts, that Ayden was saluting him.

Wut.

He wasn't even in the militarty yet. Spade liked this guy. Oh yes...he was a real.....riot. But corn flakes? Come on man... At least think of a cooler cereal like, like...uhm... like ... Fuck. Okay maybe corn flakes was the better answer. But Spade still liked Trix better so suck it. Luck Charms... Okay, that was better sounding. Spade nodded sagely in response, playing with his nonexistent beard (he never had one...ever so how could he have the habit?!). "Ilyke that 1 bettar."

He raised his empty glass with a crooked smile. "To teh womanizer mobile!" (He could clearly say that correctly without slurring to all hell...) "Buuutt me member it's 4 Amestrees." He laughed and nearly fell off his rock. "Dude..."

It was serious shit now. SERIOUS SHIT. Spade blanched. "Wh-wat...?"

"Th-there's... only one can left..."

"Dude, r u cryin'?" Wtf. WTF did he do to this poor guy!?

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Fuuuuuuccccckkkkk!!!!!! Spade held his ears and stared at the silver-haired guy that totally just lost his shit. The brunetteplayboy gaped, stared, and did nothing for a moment. Then, slowly, he took the can, poured half in his glass, and handed the can of the remnants to the man. "FUCKINGHERE. We can spurrit it. Easy. And I'll get yew registared tomorrow 4 militarty undar moi~" He rubbed his temples when the guy took it. JESUSFUCKINGCHRISTGETAGRIP...WAITASECONDNO. IT WAS THE LAST BEER. THE LAST BEER. THE LAST BEER. THE LAST BEER. THE LAST BEER. THE LAST BEER. THE LAST BEER. THE LAST BEER. THE LAST BEER. THE LAST BEER. THE LAST BEER. THE LAST BEER. THE LAST BEER. THE LAST BEER. THE LAST BEER. THE LAST BEER. THE LAST BEER. THE LAST BEER. THE LAST BEER. THE LAST BEER. THE LAST BEER. THE LAST BEER. Spade stared at his glass that was...HALFEMPTY. HALFEMPTY. HALFEMPTY. HALFEMPTY. HALFEMPTY. HALFEMPTY. HALFEMPTY. HALFEMPTY. HALFEMPTY. HALFEMPTY. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.... Because it just hit him that... beer was now a rare accommodation. FML.

[EXIT THREAD]

[Guest]

"FUCKINGHERE. We can spurrit it. Easy. And I'll get yew registared tomorrow 4 militarty undar moi~"

Militarty? Mm... tarts... he could do with a nice tart right now. Both kinds, if you caught his drift. Not sure how you would, though, because this is Ayden's train of thought. With a smile, he rubbed the back of his temple and downed the last of the beer, considered throwing up, but thought it would make a bad impression, so, watching Spade leave, he just waved goodbye half-heartedly, and collapsed on the floor, smiling like a content moron, the last drips of the can spilling out onto the dust.

Within moments, he'd passed out, and was snoring, face in the dirt, perfectly content and sleeping with some mystery woman, the idea of asphyxiation not even crossing his body, let alone his dormant mind. Throwing up in his sleep and choking on his vomit just wouldn't suit him. He needed something... more grand... like... a failed assassination... at... an... opera...

[EXIT THREAD]

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