I walk. I talk. I shop. I sneeze. I’m gonna be a fireman when the floods roll back. There’s trees in the desert since you moved out, and I don’t sleep on a bed of bones.
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This isn’t your business. It’s mine. You, the Initiative, the boys at the Pentagon… You’re in way over your heads. Messing with primeval forces you’ve got no comprehension of… I’m the Slayer. You’re playing on my turf.
“You feel smothered. Trapped like an animal. Pure in its ferocity. Unable to actualize the feelings within. Clinging to one truth, like a flame, struggling to burn within an enclosed glass: that a beast this powerful cannot be contained. Inevitably, it will break free and savage the land again. I will make you whole again, make you savage.”