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I thought I'd managed to find the one nice apartment in the whole damn city. I thought I'd have a LITTLE bit of peace.

Except this building is crawling with the dead. I can smell it of course, even if everyone seems to be acting normal enough. Well, as normal as you'd expect once-omnipotent egomaniacs forced into fragile fleshsack bodies to act. Suppose I was sent here for a reason, though I would have like a LITTLE quiet time. I'm in no rush, though. Plenty of fleshsacks around, and they're not going anywhere, and I just stocked the pop-tart cabinet.

Did someone just FORGET that when you die, you're supposed to go to Hades, cross styx, suck Charon off, whatever, but you DON'T fucking walk around a goddamn apartment complex, ESPECIALLY when I'm trying to get a nap?

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This isn't exactly something that anyone except Mania is choosing to---



Maybe... Who are you? What do you know about all this?

It's a little fun actually. Like playing chase or something.

I don't know who you are. Or who any of you are, YET. But I didn't play chase when I was a do- Eh, before all this, and I'm not playing "chase". I'll play "bust some fucker in the face if they try to snack on me while I'm eating my Goddamn pop tart", but that's about it.

Cerebus? Cerebus??? What in the world are YOU doing here? I thought you were guarding Hades and here you are in human form.

Me, I would love to know what I'm doing here, but I'm assuming it has something to do with all the dead walking around instead of being in Hades's realm, shoveling my poop.

...Are you...



...Who are you?


I'm Cerberus, Cerebus, Kerebos, The Hellhound, Hound Of The Baskerfucks, whatever you want to call me. Who are you?

Cerberus? Fancy meeting you here.

Fancy meeting me here too. Who are you?

[low chuckle]

So this is what happens when you give the dog his voice?

I like it.

On a side note: who in the name of Tartarus is watching the dead?

Thank you, I practiced singing Elton John in the car, and took voice lessons from Amy Winehouse...

As far as who's watching the dead, it SHOULD be me, but I one minute, I'm sitting at Hades' feet, happy, eating, barking at bees, and the next minute, I'm in the world of fleshsacks.

And who might you be? You don't know what bitching is until you've spent half an eternity listening to Kurt Cobain's whiny ass.

Yes, let's just take that complaint up with the ravenous horde of the undead, why don't we.

Yeah, smartass, let's do that. I don't hear you doing anything about it. At least eating poptarts and watching movies is productive... I guess.

Suck me off? That's a new one.

Heee-eeey. You're... Not old? Why aren't you old? You're supposed to be old. I remember you old.

Lord Hades! Finally! Are you well? Do you need my assistance? What can I do, sir?

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