*lays his prim mustache and mechanical arm on the desk and turns on the aether transmitter, flipping the switch to OOC*
What to call this drama factory? Mason Foundation doesn't have that ring to it. And people might assume we're the ones with the secret handshakes and lambskin loincloths. But we need to call it something. Anything but...
His name is whispered in dread by many and in reverence by a few.
I have to let him go. I leave him to feed upon the few who still invite him to their dreams.
He has hurt too many people. He has driven a wedge between me and the community I did my best to support. He threatens my sanity. He has almost destroyed my family. Trust is gone. I must try to rebuild it. If things don't change Love will soon wither as well.
I'm not the only one who's felt the need to step back lately. Admitting it is the first step.
The goal was to be self-sufficient in SL. It used to be easy to keep up with one-and-a-half properties by hosting. Even when his skin switched from pale kabuki to fiery red people still told me he is the "pervect av". He's the one people pay to see. Arrogant nobility with a razorsharp wit, cut with a dash of self-deprecating humor, all steeped in burning libido.
Then those three f*cking words ruined everything. All because somebody didn't read the memo that his brother had left Steelhead behind to go fight Orks in another Grid.
I had to choose between keeping a Foundation without a Founder, or keep the CRC going. I made my choice. The other half of the Hospital could no longer contribute (get well soon, Doctor) and the deed was always in my name. Why not take the top floor for myself?
I tried ripping him out of me before. He just takes a new body. He's been banished before. He just makes a new roost. And still people want to hire him on the spot. He's lead me to places I should never have gone. Putting him in entirely among his own kind just made things worse.
It has to be different this time.
At the end of the Legion of Steel storyline, I must relegate him to NPC status, if any status at all.
I still love Steelhead. I want to be able to explore the harbors and mineshafts as the territory expands. Maybe someday I'll feel like I belong there again. I love Caledon...I even wrote a song about it. The twisting alleys of Babbage I am still getting to know. And as mean as the polluted streets are they're packed with innovations and defiantly cheerful urchins and the occasional reincarnated philanthropist. And every week it seems someone else opens a new sim to put a new twist on the theme.
This is where I belong. Not in the Underworld. Not in the streets of a dying Future.
The key to me keeping my Family and Home and Health intact while still sharing this wondrous New Victorian Age with all of you is so simple and yet so difficult. By admitting my faults, perhaps I can get closer to the vision of a Proper Victorian Gentleman.
The bartender does not drink on duty. I cannot mix work with pleasure. A smile and a wink, but no further. I beg of you...Lead me not into temptation.