V: What is the sound of one hand clapping?
Zen Master: That depends - is someone clapping with you?

Once upon a time, people were talking to graves and nobody batted an eyelid, right?

The wind whistling through boarded-up windows. Tumbleweeds scratching across dry, sandy tracks. That's how towns die. Not with a bang, but with whispers and whimpers.

The boys have prepared everything and found me a lamb. Blood will course through the fiberoptics, swirling and blending with the digital, opening the gates of the abyss. Death within arm's reach, the metallic taste of his scythe on my tongue, I will tug at the tangled cables of Fate. A hard reset, a blue screen, a brain reformatted... I'm ready. Luck be with me.

Speaking of harm's way. Know what I see lookin' at you? Walking, talking corpses.