This is just hurtful. Truly.
Have we honestly drifted so far from each other that you wouldn't recognize your old friend / teacher / what-have-you when you see them, Shooter? Hear them? Has death really parted us that much so? Or have I simply changed that much...? I suppose we have both changed. Neither of us being "us" all that much anymore. It's a shame, really. You know how I always saw Humanity as a strength, not a weakness.
Though I'm not exactly sure.
I think I'm human.
But I know my body was burnt.
Heh. My apologies. Really, I suppose its unwise to mock the power of a Fear. Plague's Will over me is unquestionable. I... vaguely recall bits and pieces of my stay at the Castle. Pulling my own skin from my flesh in a rotted oozing mess of infections. Finding worms beneath. Thin, white worms. That only seemed to multiply the more I tried to dig them out. Thankfully, however, my return is Clean, pardoning the sewer factor. Clean of infections. Clean of wounds. Clean of even scars...
Pardoning the one that lays over my returned-to-beating heart.
A Black Rot(?).
Even now, it burns.
Almost as hot as my mind. An altered mind... flawlessly seamed to His Will.
For I have a purpose back here, you see. And its one that I will enjoy immensely.
Do take a guess.
A wild STAB in the dark, as it were.
See if you make something bleed.
And as for you, Shooter... please do come and find me. I look forward to seeing you again.