Good Morning Beautiful

Heart of Darkness

The Princes Haven is crawling with zombie cops, and the Sheriff is a bigger dick than he first let on. Talking to the Princes people it seems to me that they have been mindwiped. They have no recollection of what went on during the missing hour on the tapes.
I think Moonbeam is on to something after her weird hippie vision, so we will go check that out after we wake up tonight. I hope my pissing off the Sheriff gave Tim the time he needed with the computer in the vault ( I do not want to come across the thing that ripped that door off )
as it is, I think I see a way to get some bit of advantage on the homophobic redneck, and with Raz’s help, we might be able to drag the asshat under some sort of control.

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Respect through violence
Or, how I learned to love the fist.

Raz pulled back and launched the dirtiest sucker-punch he could muster. Or at least, he thought he did.

He had decided within seconds of meeting this “”/characters/sheriff-balthazar" class=“wiki-content-link”>sheriff" character that he was not only a complete asshole, but that he would clearly respond to nothing short of brute violence. It was the only way to get through to him, and luckily it was a technique that Raz was profecient in. Gain resepect through the exhibition of sheer violence. Now, back to that sucker-punch:

Raz knew that if he were going to have any chance at all of getting a good punch in on this up’ity cracker, he was going to have to fight dirty. Without thinking about it too much, Raz quickly pulled back and launched a below-the-belt punch as hard as he could. And that’s when time seemed to warp right around him. While the synapses were firing in his brain to tell his arm to move, he suddenly found himself being pummeled with a series of slaps to the face. In truth, “Slaps” is being generous. while the form of the strikes clearly resembled open handed slaps, they landed about Raz’s face like a barage of scud missles, knocking him to the ground.

Raz clutched his jaw as he stared up from the ground at the Sheriff. This was it, Raz told himself – this was the moment. Whoever moved next would lose. Raz sat, stoically, fighting every instinct in his body to get up, brush himself off, and tackle the lug in front of him.\

And then it happened.

The Sheriff slowly reached out and extended his hand.

Raz knew in that moment that he had him. He reached back and allowed the Sheriff to help him up.

He’d done it. He’d cracked the facade. He’d gained the slightest bit of respect, and now he could begin to weasel his way toward his larger goal. He was proud of himself. Proud of the restraint he had shown, and proud in the knowledge that gaining the Sheriffs’ respect would make it all the sweeter when he eventually found a way to use that very thing against him. He couldn’t wait for his opportunity to twist the knife.

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