Death glided down the back alleys and dark recesses of the city looking for the next pocket to pick. The money itself was unimportant, it was the thrill of the chase that mattered. Choosing your victim, following them closely, looking for the opertunity to strike, before gliding off again before they notice anything is up. In an ideal world he'd be robbing them of their lives, not their wallets, but this wasn't an ideal world, this was Earth, and the powers he'd recieved at the hands of the Sister's of death didn't seem to work here. No matter, soon he would be powerful enough to fulfil all his goals.

There where still many things that Death didn't grasp about this planet and its inhabitants. He'd seen the argument in the street over somebody he didn't know and had never heard of, R J Fuller, and it had sparked a few thoughts in his mind. Firstly, what was this prediliction with the living and their need to compare things. "This CL was better than that CL, Los Angeles Godfather is Better than St louis's Godfather, My dick is bigger than your dick.' Surely it was all the same in the end? Eventually every worthless, churlish individual would eventually be dead and rotting, or if they were lucky one of his Zombie slaves. It was the handy thing about being a Alien super fiend possing a corpse, Penis size was unimportant. Sex was out of the question and he never needed to piss.

Death wasn't as green as he was cabbage looking though... this caused him a momentary pause in his forward momentum... where had that come from? It was true though. Death knew that the idiots usually doing the comparing where attention seekers. He'd had people just like it back on Deadworld... well before he'd judged them and sentenced them to death. Usually the comparisons they made were deliberately at odds with the general concensus. An attempt to stand out and be noticed. They wanted to upset people and provoke a reaction, they needed the attention, craved it even. Usually they were the pathetic off spring of some long dead foprgotten nobody. Someone with no talent or ability to make their mark, so they needed to get people's attention some other way, and usually being a dick was the easiest way to go about it.

Death was amazed though. Sure he was incredibly intelligent, obviously moreso than the worthless lifeforms who infested this planet, but he had met many who possessed at least a rudimentary intellect. So if he knew what attention seekers like that nobody ranting in the street where up too, surely they did too? The best way to handle someone like that is not to feed their desires, it only makes them worse. The best way to deal with them is to walk on by, and if they are really out of line, swing back around at a later date and turn them into worm food or plant fertilizer.

His father, back in the days before Death had murdered him, had been a smart man. he had told young Sidney about the gangs and thugs that stalked the city streets. He could still remember what he had said. "Sidney, there are two types of lowlife in this world. The ones who are dangerous, and the ones who aren't. The one's who aren't know they aren't, so they have to make up for that by telling everyone how dangerous they 'really' are. They shout and hollar in the streets. The ask inane questions like 'Do you know who you are dealing with, boy?' and they say things like 'I could get you killed if you don't watch it.' These are the ones you have nothing to fear from. The one's you have to fear are the one's who say nothing and keep their heads down. They are the truely dangerous. They don't need to brag, because they know they can get the job done. If you upset one of these guys, then the first you'll know of it is when you are taking a dirt nap."

Death knew that it would be one of the latter who would end up taking out the young punk flapping his gums in public. The riled up idiots foaming at the mouth, chomping at the bit, and yelling obsenities at him over his speach would only be able to look on and dream of the day when they had the power or ability to do so. Somewhere in the dark, nefarious depths of Death's brain a light went on. So that was why them compared the sizes of their dicks. It wasn't to do with sex, or excreting at all, it was a pseudo-masculine primative attempt to assert dominance and show that you where supposedly better than your rival with the smaller appendage.

Happy... well as happy as a possessed corpse is ever likely to be, Death saw his chance and skilfully lifted the wallet of NewYorkDiesel, and slipped back into the shadows before the man even knew what had happened. Death wondered if anyone else spent as much time contemplating the nature of this world as he did.

I spend the time contemplating this world. I will address two parts of, shall we say, your thoughts?

The people to be scared of. You say be careful of the quiet ones. Agreed. Some of them are dangerous. No doubting that. Family lines such as Mikados are case in point. What he lacks in voice he makes up for in bullets. But then you have the flip side. The ones who stand and tell you they will kill you. I point you in the direction of the FlyingPig lineage for an example of someone who knows what he is and isn't capable of doing. Who will back up words with actions and isn't just an idle threat maker. I myself am not known for holding my tongue. But I do not make threats that I cannot carry out. That is the major difference.

Everyone in this world, for as long as they can hold a gun and point it at your head, are dangerous to the longevity of your life and potential. I take everyone I meet on face value and disregard no-one. That man you turned around and told to piss off 3 months ago might be back to blow your face off tomorrow having spent that whole 3 months dedicated to practicing killing you.

The second point I will address is the one you make about people craving attention. If I see someone, like this Mafia talent pansy, prancing around bad mouthing someone for attention. I will turn around and tell him a few facts of life. For if you leave these people alone I find them to become more annoying and desperate. They will also never learn that this sort of behaviour in our streets is not and never will be tolerated by anyone with half a brain in their head.

It disappoints me greatly when I see people attacking lineage. Always has. It is not right to address someone because of their fathers mistakes. You only do so when a trait in their family line become apparent. At that point you either step in and try to help or move away and ignore that person as someone who doesn't learn from their mothers and fathers mistakes. These people are known as oxygen thieves but they still have a right to be here. Retarded or not and do not deserve to be openly attacked daily. You'd find a great many people from this world would not be here today had they not made mistakes and learned from them.

I'll leave you with that. All this deep thinking had made me think I have not had enough bitter with a chaser recently. That issues will now be addressed. Beer o'clock genetlemen. You will find me in the NY bar district. Good day.