200.000 - Of nothing and everything else
While I was steaming in my own metaphorical juices (i. e. having a bit of fun of the carnal kind with dear Midvalley), a new face arrived.

Seems to me that the guy suffers from a tiny dose of a mighty Jeckyll and Hyde complex. Highly amusing to look at, even the sort of panic his arrival produced in the other team.

I wonder why they are so afraid of him? I've seem scarier schizophreniacs. One of them was a wing-man of my dear surviving third.

Which reminds me, should I manage to get my aft back into my home dimension I'll have to give said third a mighty kicking. He was very annoying with his nuking out the human fighter jets.

On the other hand... wasn't there a theory of his flowting around that there is a miniscule chance that my other third might have survived?

Scary thought. To wake up after more than twenty thousand human years and find one third of your most cherished triade dead. Even worse is the thought that it will me my death he'll be mourning and not I mourning him, as I have done since we were told of the accident. I don't think the kid remembers him.

Ok, time for a topic change. I'm beginning to sound like an overly-emotional poet wanna-be. *shudder* Nope, this one is not poet material.

Anyway, I have received a very nicely worded invitation to a little fete within the exhalted halls of Asgard. Because I am such a nice guy, they wrote.

Seems that I haven't lost my touch, eh?