Mako's Message: This chapter gave me some problems in concept, but I finally figure out how to do it.

And then when I actually started writing it... it started going in some interesting directions. It's kinda funny hearing Mindy be a complete 13-year-old-girl over something a 13-year-old-girl should NOT be thinking about. But I'm sure plenty do.

Anyway, ENJOY! And remember, your reviews are the only thing keeping me out of the liquor cabinet.

I think I'm tired of being angry. Is that possible? To just be so constantly mad at someone and want them dead at your feet that eventually you just don't feel it anymore? That whatever new thing they do just doesn't phase you anymore?

Or maybe I'm in shock. I suppose that's possible but I kinda doubt it. I mean, yeah, this was pretty bad but it's hardly the worst thing he's done. I mean, it's not like anybody DIED this time.

It's just hard to want to kill him any more than I already do. I think I've maxed out my anger. Or something. Which is weird cause you'd think I'd be livid about him destroying our HQ, John's bar, and his home.

Which is why I think I've just reached a point where I can't pack in any more hate. I mean, after a certain point there's only so much you can do to a person to make them pay. Then you're just abusing a corpse. Even if you're using life support. And you can only torture someone for so long before they become numb to it. They go into shock, their nerves stop firing...

Though, I suppose it would make for an interesting hobby. Having Chris strung up in a back room on life support so I could go in and vent whatever frustrations I have on him for a while.

What would be really nice is if I had that machine from The Prestige and could make endless clones of him that thought they were the real thing so I could make him watch me torture and kill him in all kinds of ways. That would be so much fun. I could disembowel him, and like, hang the guts of the one I'm disemboweling on another one. Like, "Here, hold this." Or make him watch as I feed him feet first into a wood chipper.

Oh, this would be awesome, I could make him fuck himself. Turn him into a one man human centipede of anal rape or something.

Jeez, with an endless supply of Chris D'Amico's to play with the possibilities are endless as well.

Shame that machine doesn't exist.

If it did I could make my own Dave while I'm at it. Then Riley and I could both have him and everyone would be happy.

Or I could make two Daves. Oh man that would be so awesome.

Hell, I could make three! Or Four!

No, four is...well... maybe four could work. That'd be really complicated though. Probably more trouble than it's worth.

Anyway, I'm letting John stay in the clubhouse for a while since his place caught fire. I'm not happy about it, but what was I gonna do? NOT let him? We just need to find a new place for him to live and have our meetings soon. The Clubhouse was NOT meant to be a meeting place. It's a training center and emergency fallback point.

The worst part about that is that I can't even be really mad at... yeah, okay, I can be mad at Chris over it. It's his fault. He just didn't do it intentionally. Though he probably would have anyone.

I think he's getting desperate though. Which has it's good side and bad side. I mean, if he's desperate then we're winning. But with what he's done already, it worries me what he might do out of desperation.

I think he's out of heavy hitters at least. We haven't seen anyone in an actual outfit since Samantha killed The Great White.

Anyway, as much as the guy pisses me off, I guess I should be glad that John has kept a...working relationship with The Guardian. Things could have gone a lot differently if he hadn't been there already. By the time Dave and I got there after the distress call went out, and we were the first to get there, it was already over.

The floor was literally covered in bodies. Most were unconscious, a few were awake but broken, and all of were cuffed.

Except for one. The high point of the night. He was clinging to one of the exposed pipes running from ceiling to floor, crying "Get him off! Get him off!" as Teddy savaged his leg.

That little pup is getting pretty big too. I wish we knew how old he was so we could guess at how close he is to full grown. He's almost as big the average dog now. He's still a big, adorable, cuddly, ball of fluff though. At least when he's not covered in blood. He looked like something out of a Stephen King novel until we got him washed and fluffed up again.

The Guardian seemed fine. As far as I know he came away with nothing more than a couple bruises.

John on the other hand... He wasn't seriously hurt, but he got banged up more than The Guardian and... I don't think I've ever seen him look so old before. Even when we saw him in the hospital he seemed so...vital.

When I went to talk to him, he looked up at me said, "I'm too old for this shit." Then he laughed weakly and said, "Never wanted to say that and be serious."

We dragged all the cunts out into the alley and called the cops to come pick them up.

That was when we noticed something was burning. We don't know what started it, but it must have been burning real slow until it found the alcohol, or something, because it went from "Do you smell smoke?" to inferno in about five seconds.

We managed to save most of the irreplaceable stuff. Samantha and Steve's helmets for example. Yeah, finally got around to looking at the name plate under the helmet.

We grabbed a couple computers, some newspaper clippings and print outs, Teddy's bed and toys. Just what we could quickly grab. Pretty much everything else could be replaced.

The only real problem is that John lived above the bar, so...he's technically homeless at the moment. Fortunately he had insurance on his home, the business, AND the building as a whole, so it's only a matter of time until he get's a new place.

Until then he's crashing at The Clubhouse. He said he doubts he'll be able to outdo the place, but he's gonna try.

I might have considered helping, but everything I did with MY building ate about half my funds. He's going to get a few hundred thousand from the insurance though, so he'll be fine anyway.

I just need to find some more drug dealers to bust up and start rebuilding my stash.