Disorder had been sitting in his office for what seemed like forever. Buried under a mountain of mail and paperwork. Camp had decided to go missing at the perfect moment. Disorder wouldn't have minded but the happy-go-lucky twat kept swanning past in his red velvet house coat with a flicked-wrist wave and suspiciously insincere grin. Each time he'd drop another helpful report of this or that person proclaiming he was the cause of all creation's problems. Disorder's large first clenched tighter around the pen he was long sick of holding. If only Anathema were still here, she'd be helping with this. 

"THE WRONG KID DIED!"

He shouted after Camp but it was pointless. He decided he'd had enough and got up. Pushing over the hill of paper he climbed over his desk to freedom. On his way down the hall baubles came out of her office door holding a phone and a very confused expression. She extended the chord and receiver toward Disorder who took it and engaged in a truly bizarre conversation with an angry person claiming to be G0d. After he hung up the phone, the two exchanged a blank look and he carried on down the stairs into the lobby and out into the streets.

As he headed into the post apocalyptic bustle of mob life, he was affronted by people from all sides accusing him of this and that. Some were the normal familiar faces with familiar gripes, regular trolls with tired theories. But lots were new faces, with colourful stories about what Disorder had been doing and would do next. His history, his present and all manner of fascinating details about his life that even he was unaware of. He made a mental note to pay more attention to his own life as, if reports were to be believed, he was clearly missing massive and very important stages of it!

Finally he'd had enough. He pushed some of the well wishers aside and stood up on the steps of a building where he could be heard.

"Hello all!

It appears there are a frankly unbelievable number of stories going around about me and my participation in recent events. So much so that I thought I'd come out here today to help you with it. Judging by the general tone of most of the things I've heard, I won't disappoint you with dull facts or the deflating reality. Instead, lets go with the general thrust of the bollocks that seems to be swimming down the streets. So...

I Killed Everyone

Thats it. Right there. All those families. The hundreds of names in the Obituaries. It was all me. All part of my diabolical scheme to take over the world. Godfather Chairman FitzChivalry, Godfather Chairman Bonkers, Don Crew Leaders Borkers, mouseycop, Reggie and Utopia were all little more than submissive particpants along the way. And as for LuciusSweet well! He did, now let me get this straight.. 'practically nothing', was 'almost a statue' and 'did none of the heavy lifting'. Yes, even our friends in the Bronx just stood by and watched as I single-handedly brought the country to it's knees."

Managing to keep a perfectly straight face he looked around at the faces chuckling at the absurdity of it all. 

"It sounds insane I know. But these are the reports we've been receiving. The barrage of hate mail is to be expected, the people darting into coffee shops to tell me they will kill me, then racing out again before I can even offer them a drink, the prison wall conversations and as for the conversations with G0d I had this morning, well, into the mystic we go!

The facts of the matter are an entirely different story. Yes, we have been the architects and administrators of a devastating series of attacks around the country. There were very good reasons for each step along the way. I have been involved in killing people I could honestly say I loved. I didn't like it, in some cases I argued against it but ultimately I agreed with the plans that were decided and wholeheartedly went along with carrying them out. I'm no more and no less responsible than a number of people in this. I certainly wouldn't like to take credit away from some of the frankly awe-inspiring organization and planning work that was done in preparation for each stage. Some truly inspirational people worked on this project.

I do completely understand the heartache and familial torment so many must be experiencing right now. I get that and I accept completely the lashing out and bitterness it brings. Please, express yourselves as you wish. Continue to mail me and amusingly dart into coffee shops and flee after a few fiery words, whatever makes it better. But please, try to keep the story telling for the kids at bedtime. Because some of the things being thrown around here as truth, are just total fantasy."

He took a few steps down toward the crowd and smirked to himself.

"Except Lucius. he did do almost nothing...

...And he's shit at dice."

With that, he made his way into the crowd to continue with his day.

Boss, u gettin' delirious there, but I agree with one thing there, Lucius sucks at dice...

DesireeKaira is on her way to Don Disorder's office. Upon arriving she sees a large crowd and notices her former crewleader addressing himself to the people in front of him. She listens carefuly to his words until the end of his speech. She giggles at Disorder's humor amazed at how strong this person can be to be able to keep composed in situations like this. 

Their eyes meet for a moment. She bows to him as a sign of respect and gives him a warm smile then makes her leave thinking that what she had to tell him can wait for another time.

Sounds 100% legit except the bit about LuciusSweet i heard he is as good at dice as he is at OC's we all know he never fails OC's also i want to find out who has buried all of the witness statements of Disorder killing everyone.

Rubix pranced by the streets and listened to Disorder giving his speech. He was still learning human communication but he enjoyed a good speech regardless. He listened intently, turning his head ever so slightly to one side each time he had uttered words that were unknown to him. 

The people clapped and cheered when he finished and various members of the community expressed their opinions. Rubix was getting ready to head out when one of the people in the streets asked who was burying all the Witness Statements. Rubix knew the word 'Bury', it was one of his favorite verbs. Woof!

Rubix was under the assumption that someone needed something buried but when all eyes turned towards him he realized he was not volunteering to do some burying. He got really low and slowly backed away. 

Dan Turner here. Private detective. If you're looking to indict Disorder on the murder of literally every-damn-body, I'm your man. And I'll give it to you - getting a guy on the serial murder of a massive majority of the population is one got-damn hatchet job of an assignment. But that's what I do, baby. That's why they pay me the big bucks. I'm not the kind of P.I. who lets facts get in the way of a juicy narrative. See some other chump for that kind of sober, soggy-loafed service. I'm a milk-drinking, car crashing, church burning, ham steaming son of a bitch. I'm a P.I. who'll do what he has to. If that means pinning a theoretically impossible amount of murdering on one man, I'll pack that crooks rap sheet with every homicide from El Paso to Saskatchewan. And I'll throw in a felony kidnapping to boot. You're paying me to do a job, god damnit. Call me. God bless America. 

SweetNothings was listening in to her boss speaking about having killed everybody. Shock took a hold of her, after all, she had only joined his crew recently but now become worried. Although she hadn't been properly educated, Sweet did a simple calculation in her head and came to a conclusion. Disorder was a mad bastard. If he killed everyone, that included his LH!

Deciding that she would do well to keep her head down and stop antagonsing the man by putting toothpaste in his nightly facecream, Sweet slinked away to the HQ to replace the tub of Grannies Gloopy Goodness.

Amen stands in awe at the ignorance being boldly blabbered on about. His normal pacified expression takes a dark turn to that of a horrified pigeon. He salutes the man at the podium for his courage to brazenly take the blame and heat for others. Than holding his pistol tightly sleeks away into the shadows.