Reach is Out

Well, another one has fallen.  Reach.  Raymond Shaughnessy.  Irishman tricked into believing he had superpowers.  For a while, everything he knew was a lie.

He had a kid.  Has a kid.  ...Will have a kid.  I don't know if it's a son or daughter, and I don't know if the mother does either.  But hey, there's one bit of solace.  Reach is gone, but his kid will live on.  Hopefully.  From what I hear, Robert's trying to do everything he can to make sure of that.

He was a figurehead.  He was a hero.  He decided that he didn't want to work for The Boss anymore, and quit in the most spectacular fashion possible.

He was also just a kid.  Only seventeen years old.  That's younger than me.  And he and another kid were thrust into this together.  This shouldn't have happened to them.  This shouldn't happen to any of us.

Reach is living testimony that those of us working for The Boss are human, and can genuinely care about you guys (even if, like me, we refuse to switch sides).  He showed that, even in darkness, there is some light.

Goodbye, Reach.  It would have been an honor to sign you off.  Too bad that librarian bitch beat me to it.  Stupid cruddy connection cutting out on me.

And no, Ava, that was not affectionate teasing.  You're a bitch.  I understand that this sucks, yeah.  But grow up.  Get over it.

So to end on a more positive note, let's all remember Reach again.  A brave kid in way over his head.  We'll miss you, buddy.  And we'll always, always remember to

Reach Out.

-Don't Shoot The Messenger-

The Man Who Brings Tidings of Sorrow

That title's sufficiently intruiging, right?  I sure hope so.

Hello.  You can call me The Messenger.  I work for The Boss.  You know, tall, thin, wears a business suit, begins to drive you mad with his mere presence...that guy.   Just started a week or two ago.  My job description consists primarily of hacking to find information and to report news (almost always deaths).  Don't worry, I never change anything.  I'm a great lover of words, and I'm not about go Orwellian on any blogs in the name of The Boss.

Now, before you get mad at me, let me just say something: I'm on your side.  Okay, well, that's not true.  I can't exactly say that and work for The Boss.  It's more like I'm on no one's side.  My own side.  I'm just trying to survive, and working for The Boss seems like the easiest way to do that.  It's nothing personal against any of you.  I just can't say that I'm on your side because your side is a bit suicidal.

Today was really my first job ("initiation" isn't exactly a quick or fun process).  It was easy.  Didn't even have to hack, because the guy left me his info.  He was another new guy.  Unfortunately, he didn't last long.  I kind of liked him.  He seemed like a decent guy.  I'd post the info about him I knew, but I didn't know much.  Here's what I did know:

He called himself Hyde.
He used to call himself Jekyll.
He refused to give his real name.
He was thin and wiry, and not particularly tall.  Wouldn't call him short, just shorter-than-average.
He had brown hair.
He was probably in his very early twenties, but it was hard to tell.
He talked in a phony British accent.
He almost always wore one of those Greek drama masks, though sometimes it was tragedy and sometimes it was comedy.  I never once saw his face.
He was mourning the loss of a girl.
He had a blog, which I put the final entry up on here.
He hated a guy called Arkady and disliked another guy called Zero or zerosage or something.
He died at the hand of the latter.

Everything else I know about him, I know from that blog (which I still need to finish reading through).

I guess that's all I have to say.  Just an introduction and a Report.  Don't expect too much out of me.  Unless you all suddenly start to die.


-Don't Shoot The Messenger-