[//VIDEO post]
[heavy rolls of smoke, mood lighting, the usual works for the Dreaded Accidental Double Post.]
[Genkaku sprawls on one end of a couch with a constipated look on his face. Badou sits on the other end with folded wrists and ankles that makes him look too polite.]SAY, GENKAKU
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So, enlighten me, Super Monk. Let's not mince words, I know you've taken a personal interest in me, so why stop fighting and pushing me?
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Oh, don't use the magic word; that'll make me want for you. "Personal interest"? Hnyeah. I guess you could say that.
You could really be somethin', Shinjiro. Nobody said ya had to be a Mouse forever. Killers are killers, even if they got remorse.
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You're wrong.
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He might'a got the electric chair if he didn't have a little girl cryin' in the court room.
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A killer is a killer, yeah. They've taken a life. Blood is still on their hands. But what defines the type of killer is why. People kill in defense, people kill accidentally, people kill for the sheer fuckin' thrill of it. So, what? You sick of fightin' me because you want to mold me in your image? Don't be so fucking narcissistic, Genkaku. What I did, I carry with me to the grave, but it's not what defines me.
So, keep pushin' me. Keep tryin' to force me down a bloody path, because I'm gonna take one look down that road, down that narrow tunnel that you're walkin' down and I'm gonna bash through those walls and find my own.
M'not you. M'never gonna be you, and you've got one hell of a fight on your hands if you think you're ever gonna convince me otherwise.
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