Prepare you, generals: The enemy comes on in gallant show; Their bloody sign of battle is hung out, And something to be done immediately. +++ I have been making lots of apologies today. My next one is to you all. I think it's pretty freaking obvious by now that I've had ulterior motives in all of this. The goose chases from site to site - it felt like a game to you probably, some organized piece of brainwork to pass the time, but I was hoping for some real detective work. I wanted to see if maybe all of you could come up with some piece of evidence I had overlooked. I've been looking for my parents for so long now I can't even remember the last time I slept in a real bed, or felt I could trust my surroundings to be safe for longer than a week or two. I used to think I was going crazy, on the worst nights. I've never been a paranoid kid, but the very nature of what I had done made me think that the world itself was literally after me. In some ways, I think it's amazing how this all shook out - bounce's smarts and tracing of the network I needed to focus on, mello's protections, texel's records and pattern-matching, hell, even scratch's animosity towards me were all keys to get me here, now. I've got my answer. I'm not happy, in fact, I'm freaking confused, but I do know one thing: I have to take responsibility for all that I've done. You're all in danger. Somehow, I wasn't careful enough, and there could still be some trails left out there in the world that lead to me, and, by extension, all of you. This whole thing is very, very big. I don't even know what this all looks like in perspective - I don't have any to spare. Tonight is one of the most terrible nights, ever. It's hitting me over and over again. There is safety in numbers, though. There is safety here, now. I am angry that I've been pushed into iambic pentameter. I'm changing this context, and this construct - I am NOT in a play, I am NOT just some character to be pushed into the next scene. I reject this script. I'm writin' a new one. The sooner you can get here, the better. Not kidding. +++ O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, That I am meek and gentle with these butchers! Thou art the ruins of the noblest man That ever lived in the tide of times. Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood! Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,-- Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips, To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue-- A curse shall light upon the limbs of men; Domestic fury and fierce civil strife Shall cumber all the parts of Italy; Blood and destruction shall be so in use And dreadful objects so familiar That mothers shall but smile when they behold Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war; All pity choked with custom of fell deeds: And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge, With Ate by his side come hot from hell, Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war; That this foul deed shall smell above the earth With carrion men, groaning for burial.