Mad Dogma: Without a Leash
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All the &8220MadDog&8221had to do was play dead.Big, dumb, brutish, and immortal: the absurdly selfdesignated Kill-Thulu just had to do what he&8217sdone for a few-hundred years: nothing. Sure, he made himself useful after we reclaimed the planet a few thousand years ago, but he&8217sgrown tiresome (and, from the looks of things, tired). Hiding out in the middle of nowhere and slipping into the Glass Desert every now-and-then for who-knows-what, we were confident that he wouldn&8217tinterfere.But we didn&8217tget this far by taking chances.Unfortunately, our &8220powr play&8221was lacking in the power department. The &8220bigsleep&8221we had scheduled for Kill-Thulu wound up being more of a nap. Whether he spent it visiting that wayward Lucifer or having another orgy with those ridiculously endowed Reapers is a mystery, but he woke up pissed-off and stupid.More stupid.He&8217smaking it personal, and nothing is stopping him from sticking his big, dumb face where it doesn&8217tbelong. It&8217slike every time we try to drop the hint&8212DON8217T GET INVOLVED&8212he8217s gotta go and tangle himself even more in our business.Who would&8217veknown that granting a horny, murder-happy mercenary the gift of immortality during the Apocalypse would wind up being a bad thingNow Kill-Thulu has the child&8212OURchild&8212andhe&8217smaking it abundantly clear in his own foul-mouthed way that he has no intention of making this easy for us. Even the Jesus Christs are beginning to curse his long-dead name