It's funny how well you think you can know a person; how one day they are simply there, breathing, speaking, thriving, and gone the next -- reduced to nothing more than an image flickering in and out of view, barely a record. But perhaps that does not apply to our lovely city, does it? I have been told that death is not a permanent state of being
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[it is, by the way, a cat with a pencil in its mouth at the keypad of this NV. excuse any technical difficulties.]
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But more specifically, it was Mello who informed me.
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You work with the police?
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In a way, it reminds me of a comic I once read. Are you familiar with Ao no Fūin?
Until I find a better opportunity.
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I should think questioning the boy would be prudent once he has returned to his senses.
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May read strange matters. To beguile the time,
Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye,
Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower,
But be the serpent under't.
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I know what you are. I know who you are. I know what you've done
You don't know the rules of this game. Trundling in like an overzealous child isn't going to get you a victory, it's going to get you killed.
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Is that the frustration of a killer, or the fear of someone who is seeing their carefully crafted empire fall to pieces? Fortunate for us that your "reign" was not short enough. Even better that I have lived long enough to see it put into effect.
Oh. Is God threatening me?
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