The log of Simon Shaw

[swift]

[font=Palatino Linotype][size=medium]July 13, 817.

I've been thinking about it for a while now. I am now resolute.
I shall use my.. talents and affinities to start a, ah, franchise of my own.
The logical choice is what I've always been good at, and what I've done out of whim so far - murder. That lovely thing that pumps whatever is going through these veins of mine.
And indeed, what better way to do something than by connecting business and pleasure!

I have everything I need - my trigger finger, the Frosty Grip, the only thing I care about in this universe, and plenty of rounds to send anything down under.

Now, all I need is a contract, and those are plenty.
First I'll have to get a bit of a reputation, of course, but that will come with time.

For now, I'll stick to those lowly mass deals every street urchin is all about. Despicable, but got to start somewhere.

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<span style="color:#000000">All morons hate it when you call them a moron.

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