[b][i]The Man sits along the sandy shore of a wide river inside Oasis. He gazes at the beautiful, crystal clear water, and the fish swimming underneath. "Life," he mumbles to himself. He checks his Tac-Pad to see the documented names of the Cyberpunk mongrels he has killed. He has executed 36 in all. "Death." he mumbles once more. He wonders if he should have taken a few trophies from their bodies, like an appendage from a Cyborg, or a Glove from a Hacker. He hasn't, but he tells himself he will once he finishes off his next target. "I have not been acquainted by either of those things, and I never will." a mechanical voice suddenly exclaims menacingly behind the Man. He quickly turns around, and stares at the being behind him with mystified awe. "Who... What the hell are you?" the man asks. The presence gives a staticky chuckle. "I never knew the Man himself could fear," it says, "and now you will fear for more reasons than my appearance." The Man narrows his eyes. "What the hell do you mean?" "I mean that I am taking your job, Husket. You are redacted. The Tin Men have taken your place." The Man stands up warily. He grips the hilt of the Undhime. "Who sent you? How do you know me?" he asks angrily. "We both share the same authority, the same creators. Our authorities have seen who you've been talking to, how you interacted with them, and they have seen that you are faulty. Our creators have finalized your execution, because you are faulty. "I, however, am not faulty; I am great. And you, Belekin Husket, will never be great. You will be dead." The Man's eyes widen in terror before a bullet enters his skull. He teeters for a moment, losing his grip on the Undhime, and then finally falls backwards onto the sand, blood engulfing his face. The Man faces up towards the sky, the sun bathing his limp, bleeding body. The foliage behind the shore rustles and shifts as his assailent retreats without another word. [/i][/b] ((Closed))