2003

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As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
I take a look at my life and realize there's none left
'Cause I've been brassing and laughing so long that
Even my mamma thinks that my mind is gone
But I ain't never crossed a man that didn't deserve it
Me be treated like a punk, you know that's unheard of
You better watch how you talking, and where you walking
Or you and your homies might be lined in chalk
Gangsta's Paradise
I feel like that, I have spent years running and fighting. Having Molly 8 change my face, changing my name has given me space to breath. Space to find my humanity. I was a pretty evil monster for a while, with very little I wouldn't do to achieve the goals I wanted. Goals of revenge, of taking what was mine.
Now that I have begun to return to the edges of sanity, I am ashamed of some of the things I have done, and I wonder how I retain my soul while solving the issues in front of me. Can you battle monsters and not become one yourself? Can you destroy the creatures of the night and not find yourself stalking the shadows a danger to all mankind around you?
I am sure John would laugh at me, he has made peace with the demon inside, and rides it to full efficiency for his desires. But even there, can I knowingly work with a creature who I know is killing the population around me? Do I live with the blood of his victims on my hands?
Listen to me, a self righteous bastard. His victims. What about my own? What about the blood I take to survive? I don't feel bad about the flesh I eat, because at least it is from the dead who don't care. As long as I am not eating the living...I can console myself that I am not just some sort of zombie holding the population in check. Though I do during the day sometimes dream of that amazing taste of fresh, hot flesh, and the pulsing salty elixir that fountains forth when you bite deeply into a neck. The horror is that I have to push that part of me back, for it would be all to easy to feast on every human I meet, knowing the pleasure that would come from tasting their last moments of life.
Enough of the soul searching, I need to concentrate on the mystery that is Sancerique. Why did he or his partners attack my family? Do I need to return to Chicago to figure it out? Or do I man up and ask him straight up? All questions with difficult answers I am sure. Was the whole process designed to get me to come to New York? And if so why, and who set it up? What do I do if it turns out Donatello is behind all this? The thought has crossed my mind more than once. While he treats me like a lost son, I don't wonder if he doesn't feel disappointed in me that I don't step more willingly into the evil existence he leads. And what plots does the old monster have in mind for me? I feel obligation and nausea from dealing with him all at the same time.