July 21st 2024 - Vatican City



Leap of Faith had come and gone and he knew he had to get the fuck out of there. Out of Italy, out of Rome and especially out of the most goddamned evil place on planet earth - Vatican City. A pulpit of piss staining the evil underbelly of our flying space rock. Romanticized by the indoctrinated and the easily manipulated. It's seedy history made his spine tingle. Burning to the ground would be where it would look its most beautiful. He couldn't give this wicked place another second. His sanity depended on it.



He caught the first flight he could. A fourteen hour flight from Rome to Harry Reid International. He didn't care. He needed Vegas like a fish needs water. He needed the degeneracy, the debauchery and the depravity that only a summer night in his favorite hell hole could deliver. The Strip was calling like a siren to a sailor. 



July 23rd 2024 - Las Vegas, Nevada



The desert wind rushed through his hair. Knuckles tight. The Ducati roared down the loneliest highway. It was one of those idealistic nights where you have a full tank of gas and a ticket to anywhere. One of those nights that only come around when heartbreak intersects with fuck it. With a pocket full of hope, the finest Colombian hope that I could get my hands on, all that I could think about between the echoes of Holly - was helmets are for pussies. That was the half an eight ball talking and the night was young, it was just getting started. 



I'll just ride out this high. This death wish in technicolor. if not for expensive lawyers, loopholes in law and judicial precedent, I would be rotting in prison for the rest of my life instead of speeding down U.S. 50, fueled by cocaine and Wild Turkey, on the edge of the edge. 


Some people would say that I'm lucky but I deserve at least that...or worse. 



But I am here. Drifting through the now at one hundred and ten miles per hour. Following white and yellow lines into the sunset. Searching for oblivion or whatever comes just before. Such is life on the Razor's edge. 



We press on.



It is her birthday after all and I certainly don't believe in any of that afterlife bullshit. I am a grown up and my eyes have been long since opened. So there is no delusion that I am ever going to see her again anywhere other than in my memories. 


But I hear her. She still speaks to me. It's probably the grief of loss. Though it could also be the cocktail of drugs and alcohol that would make Gonzo proud coursing through my bloodstream. It is definitely a little bit of both. But for now I can hear her and I don't want her to go away again. 



We were supposed to do this together. Change the world. Advance the decay of society. Or at the very least push it to the brink of combustion. 



Maybe we still can, he thought to himself as he broached the neon lights of Sin City. 



February 23rd 2018 - Office of Doctor Camden Fowlston



Doctor Fowlston: Matthias! Come in. Have a seat.