TO LISTEN TO ALL
THIS IS TO DELVE
I want to live in distant climes, where no one even
hears my name, or rhymes my personality with
joy or grief. Both thing better left alone. There's a
capstan of an inkling, a glimmer of a hope. Only
that. Things which wrap around, and coil up.
The physics of another delight entire.
Musical chairs in the terminal chamber.
No one gets out of here alive.
I knew the Chinese guy was coming for me;
he'd warned me a week before, sent me nunchaku
sticks too. What was I supposed to think? Better
ways to die than this? Combat is lethal, and
only good for an ace. Someone skilled.