It’s been a little while. Been keeping busy. I feel like a stray bullet, chummer. Like nitro fueled mercury I’m all over the place but at the speed of light. Where you might ask? Well if you’re reading this you’ve probably been following my step so it’s rhetorical. Germany was a hell of a trip, much cred to all my old and new fans in the AGS.

Figure it was time to not only slow down but to stop. So I’m writing this with a coffin nail dangling between my fingers… and it’s just smoking itself out. Can’t bring myself to raise it to my lips again and I don’t fraggin’ care. My mind keeps going back to a favor I did back in Hanover.

I was flipping through the virtual underground a lot when I was on tour. Got a request from a runner to put some flowers on a grave. Didn’t do much prying but from the age of the stone I’d say the plot had to belong to family. Whoever this person was they’d been in the ground for awhile. Its better not knowing though sometimes, you know? Figured it was the right thing to do and it wasn’t too far out of the way. That and I can’t help but get the impression the request came with a side of regret so the first brake I had from the tour I took a nightride out to Hanover to do this thing.

I remember the neighborhood surrounding the graveyard. It was the kind of place that was probably nice once. It was probably country. Borders grow though, small town becomes a reservoir for low rent urban drainage… graveyards become gangland.

Managed to dodge under view somehow, nobody even knew I was there until I was dropping flora on a grave that someone’s dad was buried in. I’m going to admit that I had a moment. Wondered where my old man was, if he was in a hole somewhere or… you know. Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he’d heard of me, heard my stuff. Who knows, right? Wonder if he even knew the things that he’d given up when he walked out on his little girl and her brother. This dad though… This was some painful drek for someone out there in the shadows. For this runner who’d asked me to do a favor for pocket change so that a favor wasn’t a favor anymore and nobody owed anyone anything. I envied it a little bit. Envied caring enough to ask a stranger to put flowers on a grave half way around the world because you hadn’t stopped by in awhile. A… really long while.

Gangers will be gangers though and sure as tits they saw me when I stood up. Tried to walk it away, hoping they’d have at least enough sense to let me walk and crossing fingers that they weren’t the thrill loving ultra violence type. Stockholm was running a search on them when they started catcalling me. Flipped ‘em off and the hollering and threats started. Then they threatened the grave.

Magic hits harder then a hammer. It’s appearance is a certainty that the world around us is not as under control as we’d like it to be. They pulled guns on one another and didn’t know why. They all told each other that if they didn’t leave that grave be they’d get ventilated. Would have been enough for me… I wasn’t there to hurt anyone. They made me.

I don’t cry over drek-headed gangers who camp graveyards. Can’t help but think though… maybe somebody else might be.

#silversanity, #vendetta, #hanover, #backfromtour, #stockholmhasasexyaccentforanagentprogram, #VU93 @nightmare

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