Whimsical-Realist

Looking back, It was unforgettable. Amazing. Didn't need booze to get drunk, We drank deep of each other, Fed on the vibes, dialed in, Synchronized brain waves and Just lived. Light thrown off one, Mirrored off another, bounced. We were blinding. We shown so bright, So full of hope and life and we Grabbed the moment. Learned and grew. Forged our bond in Wit and humor and It became something Indefinable. It was a golden age. Sipping drinks, telling jokes. Sitting companionably. A special place. Our place. They knew us there. And god how we lived. Lived harder than I'd known before. Lived lighter than I'd dared dream.

The issue with using something blunt  as your primary weapon is that the damage it inflicts is messy. Bullets are fast and impersonal, leaving a neat little hole behind. Blades are more intimate and, when sharp, can make clean cuts in flesh. But something like a pipe wrench is heavy, clumsy, and when used as an instrument of murder, brutal. The dent in the splicer's forehead was a dirty, broken mess of fractured bone and matted hair, pooling blood and perhaps even bits of his addled grey-matter. Chell remained motionless, straddling his hips with the wrench back up in a two-handed position, ready to swing down the moment he so much as flutte

Jiao Brewsong sat by her campfire with a sour expression, listlessly sharpening her pair of jade-hilted daggers. It was a cold night, the fire and her travel cloak doing little to take the bit out of the bitter wind howling through the valley she was camping in. A crumpled set of orders was catching flame where she'd thrown it, the blaze as eager as she was to have it destroyed. But the order still stood, no matter what she did: SI:7 wanted her to assassinate Kang Goldtree. The Pandaren woman sighed, chewing at her lower lip. How had it come to this? The Kor'kron had intercepted the order thanks to a particularly talented tracker. Had the su

The next day, I came down from my room early, surprising Renu slightly. "What troubles you, young Miss?" he posed, looking up from his newspaper. "Oh it was terrible, last night Edgar dragged me to the lake and we were attacked by birds!" I complained with spot-on theatrical flare. "Had we not discovered Poké Balls hidden in a mysterious professor's briefcase, surely I would stand before you today blinded!" "Goodness…I can hardly believe that happened. I am ever so glad both you and Master Edgar are unharmed." "Indeed, our discovery was most fortuitous." "The professor you mentioned is most likely Professor  Rowan of Sandgem To