A Scripta

Open letter to Masonry:

Okay, Nate, I've had it with you.

Grow the fuck up.

You've ruined a man's life, a man who you supposedly "love", who loves you to the ends of the earth and back, and you threw it all away. You've done this before. But this time it hurt me, your director.

We know who you reflect, just like Kill did. We know whose moods you reflect, we know when the player's had a bad day or is on a downswing - because he ruins other characters' lives. And when the player's on an upswing, you get "healed" somehow.

I've given you everything: out of prison. A permanent babysitter (Lodestar) - who's mealy-mouthed for a reason. Time and space to go and fulfil those "wicked desires" as Daisuke calls them. Kit forgave you. Notion forgave you. Artemis forgave you. Star's almost there in forgiving you. A psychiatrist, a neurosurgeon, and shock therapy. The FBSA. DRUGS, for chrissake. Thrown away.

No more, Nate, no more. As your director signed off last night, tears of sadness and frustration in her eyes, she thought of what Daisuke's static face looked like, and hoped that Daisuke's player could put more distance between them than she could.

If you are this dark and evil, Nate, I don't mind playing you out - but not on Virtue or not with the Gang o' Four or with anyone that I know. Because your actions will disgust your fellow players like they already have. Your director can live with with that darkness and evil and wallow in it - who made who, after all - but not forever and not with people whose lives you've already tortured.

So here's the deal - no, actually, no. There is no deal. You grow up. If you don't grow up then I'll get Kill back to be the badge whore and you disappear into retirement never to be seen again. Will it hurt me? Sure it will. But I never, ever want to see Daisuke - or me - that upset again.