For example, I test you, little moth, but for a reason. The artist, yes, the artist, knows there is richer earth to till. “WELCOME - to - Fort - Frolic! No need to thank me for jamming the transmission of those boors Atlas and Ryan. He wondered into the main atrium of Fort Frolic and I welcomed him with the spotlight treatment. Where are my manners? Come in, come in! Sander Cohen awaits you, at the Fleet Hall!” I've waited so long for something tasty to come to this little burg, but all that pass are yokels and rubes. “Ohhhh, I can smell the malt vinegar in this one. He fought with such determination and grace. He defeated the first horde of splicers I sent with ease. Let's see if you're just another Johnny-come-lately, or maybe something more delicious.” Now, I haven't seen a sign of real life down here in months. The artist has a duty to seduce the ear and delight the spirit, so say goodbye to those two blowhards, and hello to an evening with Sander Cohen! Time was you could get something decent on the radio. Atlas, Ryan, Atlas, Ryan, duh duh duh, duh duh duh. He was well built and healthy with a soft pretty face, but that sweater was hideous. When the survivor had finally made it to Fort Frolic, I could only hope this tasty morsel didn’t disappoint me. He had sided with Atlas’s merry band of neanderthals and was on his way to find Ryan. A plane had crashed and a survivor had found his way to this fair city. I had just put the last statue of my masterpiece in place when my radio picked up something juicy. Using the plaster from the store rooms and wire to hold the body in a specific pose, I created new living statues. Those who littered Fort Frolic with their dead bodies had no hope for a proper burial, so I decided to give them a form of immortality. I started to run low on supplies so in order to continue my work, I had to get creative. The only people left were tasteless splicers without enough brains to appreciate my work. When Ryan left me in charge of my beloved Fort Frolic, my heart had soared but as this senseless power struggle dragged on, I became quite bored. Oh, what terrible things they did to Ryan’s poor baby but when I met the end result, my muse became quite stimulated. The embryo’s very essence was partially made from the essences of my beloved Ryan. The juiciest bit was about an embryo Fontaine had purchased. Since Fontaine was dead and all Ryan and Atlas did was squabble, I helped myself to any and all things I could get into.
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