Author's Note: Yes, I know it's against the rules to post a chapter that, in its entirety, is only an author's note. Bear with me, for this is important.

So, as I was gleefully traipsing through my kitchen, going through the joyous motions of unloading the dishwasher, an errant and yet completely, flabbergastingly sensical (those are words as of now) thought occurred: why the Hell haven't I told my watchers that I got a new account? It's been months, and I've been silent as a corpse. What am I on? In any case, you no longer must remain in the shadows, for Scooby and the gang are here to solve this mystery!

Like Sora in Kingdom Hearts. Man. I hope we solve this mystery!

Anyway, let's make like a Toyota and move forward. I have not died. I am not in coma. I have not been afflicted by some terrible disease, nor am I in emo withdrawal mode. I have been writing. Yes, it is so! Harken, for though I have been writing and submitting (you know, that thing I used to do here?), it has not been under the alias Rikku of the Desert. So, if you're truly jonesing for some sweet word love, look up my not-so-new but very-much-improved account, Genetix Chiquita. I'm also available on FicWad under Pink Rapid, and on Adult Fan Fiction under Poinsettia. And wow, I'm absentmindedly watching Spider-Man 2 on my PSP (Corniest. Movie. Ever.), and Auntie Em just had a spaz. Take the damn money, Peter, and then get on your crotchrocket and leave before you have another boring confrontation with Kirsten Dunst! Oh, you knob, why don't you ever listen?

Complete irrelevance aside, some of you mayhap be wondering, "Where, O, where have Recollections and Reconnections and Indifference gone?" As it so happens, I'd like to know too. I logged into this account one day to encounter utter horror: they were unceremoniously deleted with absolutely no notification. Yeah, Fanfiction, nice. Thanks for screwing me over. I mean, sure, in retrospect they weren't really that great (horrible dialogue errors, not to mention the complete lack of plot), but I wanted the opportunity to be able to edit and improve them. Woe, for now that chance is forever lost! I e-mailed the admin, but you know them: Earth will ice over and thaw before they get back to me. Le sigh.

Onto greener pastures. I have improved. Can you tell? I'm quite pleased with the vast differences betwixt my old stories and my new stories. (Despite the complete embarrassment I suffer each time I read Inner Blizzard. What Godawful poetry.) There is no need to flatter me, because I can tell. I'm not fishing for compliments (I loathe it when people do that), but I will boast that I have indeed become quite a better author, and do hope you'll all be reasonably pleased with the fruits of my labor.

Should you lovelies be pondering what I might be writing under my new alias, I shall thus bestow upon you the gift of knowledge. I am currently writing for Final Fantasy X-2 (it's an addiction), Final Fantasy X, Pirates of the Caribbean, Fruits Basket, and a sprinkling of Ouran High School Host Club. I've also submitted stories relative to Rent, Shakespeare, Class of the Titans, and X-Men: Evolution. The More You Know. Aside from that, there isn't much more to be said about my new account, other than the fact that I hope to see some of you in the future! Or rather, hear from you. If I saw you... that'd be kind of creepy and border on stalking.

Now, children, one last story before I go. It is a tale of woe, to be sure, and relates largely (actually, one-hundred percent completely) to Final Fantasy X-2. It is also a tale of bittersweet, ironic hilarity. So, I have began playing aforementioned game again after a generous number of months of utter Final Fantasy abstinence. I return and I have as since completed the game. Now, let me tell you, as I was playing I did everything perfectly. Perfectly. My dearies, I'll be damned if I was not Hell-bent on getting the perfect ending. So, I've completed every possible mission of the game (New Yevon permitting, those bastards), and I'm about to jump into the Farplane when I noticed "Hey, I'm missing some percentage". I was horrified. So I looked in the guide, and what do I see? I missed one objective. One single objective. I was mortified, and I thought, for sure, that it could not possibly be any worse. Oh, it was. You know what objective I missed? The very first one in the entire game. I didn't touch the damn moogle. I only laugh to keep from crying.

And thus, dear ones, is the tale of Rikku of the Desert and her prolonged and unexplained absence. I hope you hear from you all, and I'm terribly sorry for any trouble or worry or annoyance or just plain "that bitch, get the f-ck back here now"-ness I may have caused you.

Now you know... the rest of the story.

Much love, and here's to seeing you all the future!

- Rikku of the Desert

P.S. If Dr. Octavius is such a so-called "genius", why did he not build a protective casing around the inhibitor chip on the back of his neck? Seriously, what's the deal with that? You honestly didn't think that in a scientific lab, where you create fusion and God knows what else, that nothing would eventually go flying through the air and shatter your fragile keep on sanity? Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if it was made of porcelain. Doc Ock: "It's genius! Take every precaution known to man, but Hell if I'm going to protect my own brain! No, no, that's ridiculous! Honey, sweetie, oh dear wife of mine, what is that you used to make that irreplaceable and ever-so-fragile china doll? Sculpie? Perfect! That's what I will use for my inhibitor chip, for I am satisfied with my arrogance and blissful ignorance! Now, let's get this party started so I can go rob the most satirical, fantastical comic book bank in town!"

The doctor killing scene makes me laugh.