PARABOLICAL GRAFFITI

I'll be honest. I kind of went into hiding again. I just didn't want to deal with the world at large. The last month has been a little difficult. Amy's gone. Cameron's gone. I'm alone again. All I got is Salem, and he's not much company. Plus, he keeps giving me accusing looks, like he's asking me what the fuck I did with Amy, like I know where she is or something. I don't know. I wish I did know.

John. It would be unwise to immerse yourself in the chemical solutions that inhabit the Lazarus Pits. I calculate that there is a 99.879 perecnt probility that it would result in your premature termination. In the even that you are of the 0.121 percentage, there is still a 78 to 94 percent probability that it may affect you psychologically. Perhaps permanently.

You know, being here, with all the weird shit that happens, I almost always feel like I'm trapped in a crappy comic book, or a really bad movie. That's kind of annoying, really, but it's better than the life I lived before. At least I don't have to be afraid of them... There may be a lot of dangers here, but for some reason, I feel so much... safer. I feel... happy. Content in a way I don't think I've ever been able to be. Here, I don't have to live in paranoia, or constantly fighting to stop the inevitable. I don't have to hide here. I can finally live my life.

...Is it weird that I feel that way?

[backdated to sometime before the crazy started happening again]

[Buffy]

Um... thanks for the watch. I kinda lost mine a couple weeks after I got here, so... thanks. It's appreciated.


[T-850]

Uh... not sure what to say. Never got a gift from a machine before. But um... thanks for the jacket and stun gun?


[Amy]
We should um... get together again or something. If you want.

Again.
This is less than ideal.

John?

Not funny. That poor cat.

So... is it safe to come out of hiding yet, or should I hole up in my apartment a little longer?

John. We must meet.

I've been laying low for a while now... been afraid of all hell breaking lose again. Seems like it happens here every few weeks or something.

But now I feel the urge to go out, to do... something, anything. I guess after what happened I just need to feel... alive. Time to stop playing the fucking hermit and get out and do something.

Bowels in, or bowels out?

God, I love that line.

EDIT: Bowels out.

Man, does weird shit ever not happen here? Fuck, last night, there was blood splattered all over my window, and I have no idea how it even could have gotten there... don't wanna know.


[The landlady]

I know you don't want anyone going out, and I don't intend to, but is there maybe anything I can do to help around here? I notice you got some of those Ranger guys helping out in the building, but I thought I might offer some sort of assistance, too. I can't just sit here while all hell is breaking lose outside.



[ooc: Yes, John's at Isis, and yes, John doesn't know Lana's name. lol]

What the fuck happened?

The last I remember, I was with Buffy and Lug Nuts the machine, the next, I'm waking up in my apartment, scared out of my damn mind for no apparent reason. I locked myself up in my apartment for a week, and I've hardly been out.

Seriously, what the hell happened to me?



[ooc: Extremely late with this, so I'm saying he locked himself up in his apartment. lol]

Uh, this is... probably sort of random and weird, but I get the impression you're some kind of... superhero type. Am I right? If I am...

Well, it's a long story, but I'm supposed to be some kind of hero, too. In the future, I'm supposed to save the whole of mankind after this... nuclear war. I've been told all my life that this is who I am, and this is what I'm supposed to do. I've never wanted to accept that. I've never been able to embrace my destiny, so to speak.

But there's all these people, and they're dying, and I'm hearing about it, and I'm seeing it, and I can't just stand by anymore. I wanna help. Some how, some way, I want to help with this. Can you tell me how?

So, apparently, the fucking apocalypse has started.

One question... where the hell is that damn nuclear war and all the fucking machines? That shit was shoved down my throat since I was a fucking toddler, and now, I'm just getting poisoned water? Well, I guess I can't complain too much...

I am back.

Man, what the hell is this place? There is no fucking way this is LA.