Two immortal, trans dimensional, god-beings yammering my proverbial ear off and still not one suggestion as to how the fuck I'm meant to get out of this one. Oh, but where are my nonexistent manners? You probably want to know who I am, don't you, new voice in my head? You can call me Grimoire for now. That's what those two call me, anyway; among other things. I have lots of names, though. But, for now, you can call me Grim, for short.
But, anyway, new voice, maybe you can help me out. We're in a warehouse- well, I am anyway. You're probably in some alternate plane of existence or something stupid like that- and there are police outside just waiting to fill me with holes. Bullet holes. I may be, immortal- indestructible, whatever- but that shit stings.
Yeah, this wasn't really my best operation. I got a job from some weirdo in a fancy suit in a dark alley to lift this cool, supposedly cursed, amulet from this museum shipment. He thinks he'll rule the world or something with it, I bet. That's what all creepy suited guys in alleys want. Probably. Shut up, voice, what do you know anyway. Any ideas as to how I can get outta this, by the way? No? God, your just as useless as Yog. At least your nicer, I guess.
I guess I'll just sneak out with Obfuscate. Whatever. This sucks. I hate my life. Fuck Cthulhu. Fuck Yog Sothoth.
Oh. And, fuck you. You weird, stupid new voice in my head. You don't even talk, you freeloader.
I hate my life.
You are a tome, Al Azif. You do not have a life.
Fuck you with a cactus, you shitty ass squid.
I hate my existence.
a/n: Wow, I have a lot of ongoing stories. I feel like i right a lot of my introductions this way. This story is also being written on fictionpress as an original story (with a few alterations, of course.) So, it's probably going to start diverging next chapter. Thank you for reading, please leave a review!