20/09/2013 - TWO SYSTEMS TO THE FINALE

                Two systems to the finale. The ships is destroyed, destructed and flooded with its own imbuement. It suddenly comes back to her that she is a toy, a mere toy in front of a thousand videogame bosses. Each boss has a messenger badger that it sends off to prepare the helicopter. They hope to be off by lunch but she is a dork and doesn't have to stand for that sort of thing. It's a medical problem anyway, so hard to restructure. She'll mirror his movements, she'll get there with a timely friendship. It'll sting but that's adolescence for her. She'll turn around and fire at the appropriate time.

                What a dick, she says of the first one, I'll match him one speed-up for all his claims on hell in a hand basket. She then unleashes the cornered procedure and that in turn unfurls the dancing graves, causing an abrupt but tasteful colour change. Swords are being distributed to health centres throughout the Western neighbourhoods, she can turn him to rust before the last blade lands. She unleashes a wonky attack on his abdomen and then flips the switches on his thorax simultaneously. Growing full beards causes amateur heroics involving caustic hammers and cartoons of those caustic hammers so she must do what she can while she can. Her hands are filed down target thumpers, ready for mass distribution of pain and strife. The queue to see her stance is heating up and curling into untidy patterns that get in the way of other pedestrians who aren't quite so interested.

                Despite promising to attend an inquiry on an entirely different matter, the boss will be too busy to attend. She has every intention of lopping off his head and spreading the colours of his sprite polygons onto a butter cracker. She's really turning it up now, he doubts he'll get in another controlled revolution. He sends off the badger anyway to show her kicks to the face aren't fazing him one bit. His teeth are grey blinkers ready for low blows and unexpected yahtzee tournaments. Whatever happens, he'll just have to ramble on and hope that the Fifth doesn't arrive to see his place in such a shoddy state.

                The henchmen with the wired chins finally arrive but their guns are jamming left, right and centre and nobody can get anymore, they daren't pick the rifles and RPGs she has left all over the floor. They can always dance and maybe throw a punch whenever she gets close enough but then that's all that's expected of them with their suitably pathetic pay grade. The words 'severance' and 'package' wouldn't even cross her mind for a second so she has no pretentious quip at the ready when dispatching them. It's all turning a bit penile but she's handling it. She's now reached a state where she believes she was born to do this, that nothing happens after this but that nothing is quite a show and worth a quick glance. Her number is coming up nicely.