"I hate Kanaki so much" exerted from the breath of Masamune's mouth he faced towards the mushed and soiled ground. Without any more words he cleanly sheathed his disappointed and eagered sword, and without a glance back, paced himself away back towards the sunset. Never again should Kanaki see the samurai that smelled like Fellon Meowles.
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Embittered at his inevitable reminiscence of the captivating scent he encountered a decade back, the heavy handed choke of nostalgia crushes his sense of harmony. Trampling his puncturing movements in an unhinged path through the room, he unhurriedly yet staggeringly turns his head in the direction of the mimicking image of his composed self. Igniting his fists in a strained grip he lobs a harrowed slug against the haunting mirror. Crawling in his skin, those wounds they will not heal. Kanaki stepped out for a stroll...
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Ian then sat staring at the dialog popup, attempting to read what was written by a friend of his miles away in the United States. He knew that it was written by his yellow oriental friend who was busily chuckling away his laugh for the fact that the exact individual this message was intended for was reading a narrative of his own actions that occured at the immediate moment he read.
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One day Liana was cleaning up the sim. She was returning the various orphaned prims that random unattentive visitors left by. While she was cleaning, Harlequin approached her with a pistol tightly attached to his right hand. He aggressively went into mouselook and held the ctrl key as he shouted demands at her. Overhearing this a nearby Masamune Anansi knew what to do.

Masamune Anansi shouts at the top of his lungs while holding you by the shirt collar. With full force he throws a fist that slams through the side of your jaw, chipping some of your teeth with grave intent.

Masamune Anansi beats your sorry ass for being a bad ♥♥♥♥♥.

Whenever something needed to get done, the other directors would call Masamune to finish the job.
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Kanaki forced his laugh as he knew the truth of the reality. His friend was to never watch the next harem anime. No longer a comrade in the panty shots. No longer the wingman onii-chan. But it was not Ian's fault. The landlines of his internet service providers did not handle the capacity of uguu that he was looking for. Something had to be done, so Kanaki walked by the entryway of his apartment. Alongside the door there was the sword that Ian once picked up soaked with the tears of the outside world. Lost into thought he naturally picked up the sword and wandered into the rain...
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Masamune Anansi logged into the world of New Jessie only to see the screeching luminescence of the artillery rounds ejected from Eridanus towards the helpless lone wolves. He gritted his teeth in a sneering fashion as he saw Proteus Hand chuckle nearby. Only within his marble of conscious he could freely speak what he was thinking, "It's time to beat some sorry asses for being bad ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥". Masamune parceled out the hub with only him and Proteus with his sword in hand...
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