As the ship sails, Z and his unnamed associate gather around a viewing pot, grinning wildy. The rocking of the waves disturb the liquid in the pot and its vision. The moon shines brighter than usual, as Z is lost in its rays but is snapped from it when his female host offers him a meal of gumbo and gizzards.



Metaphor be lost on dis one hmmm? I knew your opposed was lacking, but dis fellow has no crank turnin'. Dey really tink Voudou be a one-sided coin. Don't he know of ye Baron, de Baron who brought you to de Loa. An' de way he hold de whetstone, like he be lackin down below.



Z sits, staring at his gumbo, stroking his snake on the chin.

Infantile little whelps. De underworld? God of it? Hrumpf. De Loa are not beings of malevolent natures. De Loa make dere home in de bayou of Zydeco. Dey gather and dey celebrate de lives of de living, dere overcomings and dere triumphs. You dink de Loa be living in some slump in da underworld and serve a false deity. Na Chile tu steu pede. Da Nanchons prayed to Bondye on his throne in de heavens for a champion, who be need in no gift, nor sacrifice and be de ultimate mediary between de worlds and bring back purity to da Ert.

Dere is no god under Bondye, nor is dere any over Bondye. Dere is only Bondye. Bondye erased nothing and replaced it wit everting. Bondye is de God of all tings born in all realities. You, your wife, even dat daughter will bow to him. You will face de judgement of Bondye, he shall cast you aside with de other vile wretches.

Your title is false Ghost Tank, you defeat your own purpose when you wed and bear offspring. Dere is no room for life in death. Da real Death know dese tings. Da real Death knows dere can be no strings to hold him from his office. Come Warfare Ghost Tank, de scream of de dearly departed will come to haunt your every dream, dey will cloud your skies and wash away your filth when dey flood your home wit dere tears.

I hear de screams Ghost Tank, but de screams begin to celebrate as de tide that turns.

Dey have heard de screams, dere quest will not be halted. De screams will be silence, and salvation will expose de hollow shell full of worthless trinkets and powerless words.

Strange lights begin to circle the ship and Z is lifted into the air. His Loa brothers and sister paint his body as the wings tattoo on his back rip from his flesh. The paint glows and sheds revealing darker skin.



If dere is to be peace, den war is de only option.

Z LIVES