<hr/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 20pt;"><strong>Game Master</strong></span></span></div><hr/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 16pt;">Deathnote</span></strong></span></div><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">Michael Foste</span><br/>San Fransisco, CA | August 9, 2017 | 8 PM PST<br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;">(Ken Aldrin)</span></strong><br/>“They found it, Ken.” He said, eyes gone wide. <br/><br/>Michael turned away from the young man and went to one of the sinks. He leaned forward, heavily, on it as if he were out of breath. The night had clearly taken its toll on him. His fingers wrapped around the porcelain and he hung his head in something of defeat, heaving a heavy sigh. “You were... Younger then,” He mumbled, chuckling quietly to himself. “Years have treated you well, Ken. Never mind that.” He said, slowly pushing himself up straight enough to stare at himself in the mirror.<br/><br/>“I know.” He whispered at first, hardly loud enough to be heard. His body trembled lightly, and his eyes caught Ken's reflection in the mirror. This time when he spoke he did so more clearly, though with obvious reservation, “I know about you, Ken Aldrin. About what you can do.”<br/><br/>He quickly held up a hand with his palm flat, showing that he meant no harm. “But please, you have to listen to me. I... You're the only one who can...” He was exciting himself too much; a deep cough lunged from his lungs, sending him bending over and slouching all of his weight into the sink while he gave his best efforts to not hacking up an internal organ that he might need later. He raised a hand and pounded on his chest roughly until finally he was able to catch his breath again; he waved his hand lightly to dismiss any concern. “Lung cancer. They say I've only got a couple of months.” The irony of that situation was very clearly not lost on him.<br/><br/>“Never mind any of that,” He digressed yet again. He turned himself around so that he was looking at Ken full on. His eyes were tired. Not physically, but his soul was weary. “Did you ever stop to wonder why there were so many of us there in that facility? So many different specialties?” Michael shook his head, his heavy brow knitting together with frustration. “You were younger back then, didn't have the know how to be part of the crowd who knew there was more going on... But I was. You were part of Dr. Hawk's team, working on IVC, and it's true that's where most of the resources were going... But...” He trailed off, tearing his eyes away from the younger man. “That wasn't the only thing that was being researched.”<br/><br/></span><hr/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 20pt;"><strong>Game Master</strong></span></span></div><hr/>