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Please Allow Me To Introduce Myself
Feb. 1st, 2008 06:52 pm
The name's Hammer. Jack Hammer, and if you need law in Baltimore Enclave, I'm the best you can buy.
Assuming for the moment I'm a fictional character, I was born when that b**tard over there just had to make a pun. He was in a fantasy writing panel at the con, and a woman there was moaning about this character she had to write about.
She'd bet that she could take a number of characteristics, draw a few at random from a hat, make them into a character, and write a story about him. She ended up with a tall purple rabbit-dude with a machine gun for an arm, bullets propelled by his explosive feces. So then this Hafoc idiot has to say "He's a private investigator bunny, and his name is Jack Hammer."
I'd kill that sumbitch if we lived in the same world. But then, I wouldn't have to. He couldn't survive here. It's not a nice place.
You see, thirty or so years ago, during the Presidency of Theodore I, the Great War was raging. The Empire and its German allies were losing, until the wolfmen began to appear in Imperial regiments. Their ferocity and toughness let the Empire take all of Europe between Russia's vastness and Britain's seas.
But soon after, The Curse appeared in Europe. Soon it had spread world-wide. The Empire swears they didn't create it (or we think they say that; communications aren't good) but The Curse had to be related to the appearance of the wolfmen, somehow.
The few survivors were Changed. Most of the Changed couldn't breed. Those who could have been moved to the Enclaves, so they can find each other while the population outside dies, slowly or otherwise. They were moved to the Enclaves whether they wanted to move or not. Whether they could stand their new other-species neighbors or not.
That's my world. Not a pretty place. But I move through it more easily than most. I might tell you the reasons why, some day. Along with a little story about me, my pal Rudy (who is Boss of the Foxtown Organization), a few other things, and a few Other things.
Not if I can help it. That basket who gave me the horrible name, I'd have to use HIM to tell my story. He'd like that, so I'm going to try to hold off, just for spite.
But I'm not sure if I can. Just once, I'd like to be able to tell the truth. And that's not safe with anybody at all, here.
Except Rudy, maybe. But I don't know how safe even HE is. That blue fire scared me when--
Dammit, that's enough for now!
Assuming for the moment I'm a fictional character, I was born when that b**tard over there just had to make a pun. He was in a fantasy writing panel at the con, and a woman there was moaning about this character she had to write about.
She'd bet that she could take a number of characteristics, draw a few at random from a hat, make them into a character, and write a story about him. She ended up with a tall purple rabbit-dude with a machine gun for an arm, bullets propelled by his explosive feces. So then this Hafoc idiot has to say "He's a private investigator bunny, and his name is Jack Hammer."
I'd kill that sumbitch if we lived in the same world. But then, I wouldn't have to. He couldn't survive here. It's not a nice place.
You see, thirty or so years ago, during the Presidency of Theodore I, the Great War was raging. The Empire and its German allies were losing, until the wolfmen began to appear in Imperial regiments. Their ferocity and toughness let the Empire take all of Europe between Russia's vastness and Britain's seas.
But soon after, The Curse appeared in Europe. Soon it had spread world-wide. The Empire swears they didn't create it (or we think they say that; communications aren't good) but The Curse had to be related to the appearance of the wolfmen, somehow.
The few survivors were Changed. Most of the Changed couldn't breed. Those who could have been moved to the Enclaves, so they can find each other while the population outside dies, slowly or otherwise. They were moved to the Enclaves whether they wanted to move or not. Whether they could stand their new other-species neighbors or not.
That's my world. Not a pretty place. But I move through it more easily than most. I might tell you the reasons why, some day. Along with a little story about me, my pal Rudy (who is Boss of the Foxtown Organization), a few other things, and a few Other things.
Not if I can help it. That basket who gave me the horrible name, I'd have to use HIM to tell my story. He'd like that, so I'm going to try to hold off, just for spite.
But I'm not sure if I can. Just once, I'd like to be able to tell the truth. And that's not safe with anybody at all, here.
Except Rudy, maybe. But I don't know how safe even HE is. That blue fire scared me when--
Dammit, that's enough for now!
