Orlok and The Sam

Orlok checked the ammo in his revolver and sighed. He really, really needed somebody to check him for psychosis because this shit was just confusing. He meant to bomb half of Little Tokyo but somehow it turned out to be a stink bomb. Did he have multiple personality disorder or something?

"That's a very serious thing, you shouldn't joke about it!"

"Guys just shut up and listen! I know where the potato is and-"

"LET HIM SPEAK!"

Orlok shook his head in a daze as he knocked on the door of the address he'd found in the yellow pages. He'd have to ask somebody if he was actually a serial killer or not because the ambiguity was killing him.

"Fucking retcons. Don't see Winters having to put up with this bullshit but oh well I suppose Winters is actually in control of their faculties so that makes it okay. Tis fucking discrimination.... Maybe this Samithy person will know."

"Excuse me. It's your friendly neighborhood Orlok, come for BUSINESS!!" He yelled dramatically.

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