Journal Entry from Eugene

It has been a year since I have been hanging around with Natalie and the others. Whenever they fall asleep, I take the time to write whatever it is I had in mind. I reflect myself best when I'm alone, and it's best for me to not tell anyone about myself so much.

This world... no... this city can't afford people like me to be at peace. I realise now that yes it is a wonderful place to be in, but the means to survive in a cage does not outweigh the horrible people that scatter in Toronto. It is as if we are punished for doing something great by taking the lives of the evil. I do not think we are punished for doing something good, naturally we are punished regardless. Even if I run away from this town, I will never escape from my friends, but not even The Underworld would allow me.

I think death is something that got me scared for the first time in years. This was before I was sucked into The Underworld, became something more than who I was when all this killing did not define me. I am scared of dying partially because I won't know what the other side felt. The sword going through flesh and bone, unless I tried to do that myself, but of course I will not do that sort of stupid thing. I am exhausted just thinking about it, they should deserve it after all.

As I'm writing to the near end of the pages, I don't remember how I was part of The Underworld, but it just occurred to me that I just all of a sudden, joined. Maybe it was the time I stopped a robber from taking all the cash, but anything afterwards it's strange I can't recall the events. Either way... that shouldn't matter so much. I'm already here, with other people that have a common interest in hunting down the bad guys.

I hope this thing lasts forever. It makes me money after all.

- Eugene Montaigne