Dear, “Mother” Abigail Freemantle,
It’s
been quite some time since the Captain Trips made the world a lot quieter hasn’t
it? But enough small talk, I know you've received my visions and denied them.
Enclosed is my mark, a nice black stone with an awful pretty red flaw running
down it. My ‘flock’ here in Vegas covet these things, they’re a sign of loyalty
and trust from me. And this is your last shot. I don’t want you to end up on my
bad side Ms. Abigail that’s not a safe or a smart thing to have happen. Oh and
your followers out in that little ‘Free Zone’ you’re all running out in
Boulder, don’t worry your pretty little head about them. Their deaths will be
even more swift than yours, and that eyesore of a town you've got set up down
there will be little more than ashes in no time, all you've got to do is make
the trip out here and pledge your undying loyalty to me. And renounce any funny
ideas you may have about there being a benevolent being in the sky, feeding you
information about my kin. That’s just a silly voice in your head and soon
enough Abigail just like everything else it’s going to fade away. There’s no
room for a god other than Me now.
Now
Abigail I’m going to be to be very frank with you now, I don’t honestly care whether
or not you show up any time soon to kiss my heels everything you've got is
coming to an end rather soon. If my eyes are right that funny voice in your
head that’s been giving you so much hope, has shut its mouth because you took
it for granted one too many times. It’s a bit of a shame you’ll receive this
letter post humorously otherwise this little tid-bit of information concerning my
follower Mr. Harold Lauder’s soon to be assassination of your council in
Boulder. A real shame indeed. I do wonder though, if before your 108 year old
body gives out if you’ll be able to squawk about sending four of your’s out to
Me. And I do wonder, oh I truly do if you’ll still be breathing to tell them
that before they ever see Vegas that one of them is going to bite the dust in
the thick of the desert. Hell even if you manage to get all that out it won’t
matter any, I have big plans for those who chose sides against me time and time
again. Plans that I don’t think would be polite to write a letter, to an
elderly lady on her deathbed about. But I’m going to anyway. Remember the part
about the swift death? I lied, those do-gooders are going to hang high off a
special set of crucifix I have lined up for them, and then Boulder will burn,
and what’s left of this pestilent crater of a world will finally be mine after
all these years, everything ‘Right’ and ‘Just’ can finally stay quiet in its
grave.
Best Wishes,
R.F.
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