GOOD BYE-LER, TYLER, OR: TRUCE OR GLARE
The death of Chris Dunn has been avenged, as JON TYLER was killed yesterday by Alden Ford.
It was a slow, patient wait, to be sure. Mr. Tyler and Mr. Ford had spent the afternoon in the company of other players, and besides, an armistice had been informally declared for the purposes of a stress-free lunch. But as the day progressed and lunch became drinks, drinks became more drinks and an ill-advised scorpion bowl, and the sun began to set, Mr. Tyler decided the napping hour was close at hand. He headed out of the bar to the street, and Mr. Ford gave chase, his blurred vision and difficulty running adding a note of uncertainty to the pursuit. Mr. Tyler never once looked behind him until the single deadly dart was delivered to the back of his unsuspecting head.
It was an awkward kill. The dart to the head was met with a deadpan glower of stomach-turning seriousness and duration. Even hours later, upon a subsequent meeting, head-shaking and glaring persisted, and the word “armistice” was used more times that it has ever been used by a non-old-timey general. Mr. Ford felt genuinely guilty.
But this is no time for armisticeseses, nor is it the time for talking about them or saying the word a ton of times. This is sudden death, not let’s-not-kill-each-other-today times. Cease-fires are all well and good, but eventually resume-fires must be imposed. Shots must be fired. Angry stares must be met with confidence and resolve.
Rest in peace, Mr. Tyler. You stayed alive for longer than most, and you killed one of the most coveted targets in the game. But your luck ran out, and all the angry staring in the world, though highly effective at making me want to cry, won’t get you that grand prize.
9 REMAIN. THE HOUR OF VICTORY IS CLOSE AT HAND FOR ONE. THE HOUR OF DEATH IS CLOSER FOR THE REST.
