|Tuesday, September 23rd, 2008|
|Lexington, Michigan|
|Nighttime on the Beach|

There was no parade like there once was, I was no longer a hometown hero. My home no longer celebrated heroes, it couldn't afford to. Michigan had become a poor state, looked down upon through pitious eyes by those of wealthier economies. I moved home quietly with Dani. I found myself a wonderful place a bit north. between the lake and a forest off of M-53 just south of Lexington. It was a magnificent home, and it couldn't have had a better price. Not that it mattered to me, but it was amazingly affordable for anyone with a slightly higher salary.

There was a lot on my mind concerning work, but I tried not to let it get to me, for Danielle's sake I needed, nay HAD to hold my composure and not let my inner undoings show through. I had worked so harfd at keeping it together I knew that she suspected I was having issues, but she knew me well enough that if I needed the help I would open up.

But I most certainly didn't need any help with work, be it carrying boxes, or dealing with Ross, and Fleming. It was obvious to me, if no one else Ross had sent Fleming to take me out of the war. I guess I couldn't blame him, I mean hell, You can never take the war out of the psycho... And I was most definately about to start another one...

|Thursday, September 25th, 2008|
|Lexington, Michigan|
|'The Devil's Asylum'(Tenative)|

I sat in the empty, dank cell of the new Alice's. For whatever reason the group of folks I had named to my staff and I had decided to tenatively call the place 'The Devil's Asylum'. Personally I didn't like it. I sat there a moment more before shrugging this thought away. I shook my head, cleared my thoughts, and prepared to deliver the most emotional promotion I had released in some time. I took a breath and pressed record on the remote up my sleeve.

*beep*

Three seconds, that's all it takes.

A crime to be committed...

A crime to be witnessed...

A travesty to occur...

The world to crumble...

Your life to end...

Three seconds...

A to be picture taken...

A thousand words to be left unspoken...

A memory to be made...

A memory to be lost...

Just...Three Seconds...

And then you're stuck in forever.

The questions, the answers...

The lackthereof...

This coming action it will take minutes.

There will be no questions,

There will be no answers.

There will be two garbage cans full of diverse weaponry to use as my opponent and I see fit to use.

So long as we use each of the thirteen weapons at least once they count.

Once the final twelfth is counted, the container...

The trash can itself is the final point.

And once I, take out the trash, so to speak...

Alec fleming will be left with no doubts in his mind...

As he lays on his back, dazed and confused,

Staring up at the lights, that the name declared victorious...

Was Mine...

'Psychosis'...

James...

Caine.

|Friday, September 26th, 2008|
|Lexington, Michigan|
|Daybreak in the Woods|

James sat quietly in the tree. His breath showing a foggy mist in the crisp morning air. His eyes were alert and focused as he narrowed them to the distant trees.

*snap*

He watched as the buck walked proudly through the trees, directly towards his bait pile. The unsane one's prey, walking with his head held high. James Struggled only slightly to count the points as he silently raised his bow. He notched his arrow, and tookcareful aim.

*squeak*

*-----*silence*-----*

Caine held his breath as the wheels of his compound bow sqeaked and the buck stopped in his tracks. The average sized nine point buck looked directly at Caine, as he sat in a dead silence. For hours the buck stared at the hunter, but never once seeing him. The prey could not fully see it's hunter, and turned it's head back in the direction it was walking.

*SNAP!*

The buck shot from it's walk into a sprint, taking two strides before falling lifelessly to the ground. James caine climbed from his treestand with a smile on his face as he moved to collect his prey, his arms feeling the chilly early-morning michigan frosted air he had missed as he had lived his life in the proverbial desert habitat. James caine was home, and he almost felt like he was two hundred percent, which was never good.