Um, hi.

I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to say here.   I honestly took one look at this blog and its associated works and stared at my screen for about five minutes.  I don't have any idea what this is all about.  Or rather, I do, and I'm shaking my head in disbelief.  I guess that's not important right now.

I'd rather not share names, those guys with the masks and the knives seem pretty ticked off at the guy asleep on my couch.  I guess his name is "Konaa?"  Hell of a way to meet a new person, seeing them stumble down the street at three AM, bleeding profusely, half-collapsed.  And shouting not to call 911. Still think I probably shoulda ignored that one.

As you've probably gathered, I'm completely unrelated to any of...whatever this is.  I'm just an every day guy workin' 9 to 5, or so the saying goes.  My hours are pretty flexible, in truth.  But like I said, last night, maybe around 2:30 or so, I hear a lot of ruckus coming from upstreet.  Trouble's not too uncommon where I live, so I got up to do what I usually do, close the curtains, doublecheck the locks, etc.  What made me stop to take another look was when I caught a glimpse of some of those guys under the street lamp.  They had some eerie masks on, and I mean eerie, pale white.  Hoods, too, and packing sharp looking pieces of metal.  Now THAT didn't happen every night.

These guys shuffled back and forth down the street at top speed for about fifteen minutes.  Then activity sort of dies down.  Here's where I do something kinda dumb.  I step out onto the street and start walking around.  Call me stupid but I'm curious by nature, and I really wanted to know what the hubbub with the masks was all about.

Well I scooted around for a bit, occasionally I heard some rapid footsteps, but then I came upon a back alleyway.  Here we had a whole load of the guys, maybe 15 to 20, and their leader, too.  Big fella.  Wears the most melodramatic of hooded cloaks, too.  He tells the guys, "Scour the alleys.  Don't hesitate to break and enter, he certainly won't.  Find.  Him."  Forceful voice.  They hopped right to it.  Now, these guys were clearly some kinda mob outlet.  And it sounded like some poor guy had pissed em off.  The masks, I figured, were just intimidation, and concealment.  They'd just bothered to have a uniform standard.

At any rate I figured it was dangerous to keep hanging around, so I made my way home fairly quickly. But not five minutes later I heard some hobbling down the street.  I look up, and here comes a young guy, college student age I'd say, dressed like he's been living out of a dumpster.  Number of oddities about him that came into vision as he started by.  First of all, he had belt with some sort of weird pistol-like object with a bunch of cable attached, a row of knives, and a REAL gun, as far as I could tell.  Stranger still was the katana he had strapped around his back.  But what made it clear he wasn't just some odd cosplayer was the strangest thing of all - he was hurt bad.  Bleeding from the shoulder, clutching his side, barely keeping himself up.  I step out again. "Hey, buddy!  You okay there?  Want me to call an ambulance?"

He almost skewered me with one of those knives, maybe I shouldn't've startled him.  "What?  No, no- Police, no ambulance, don't call 911..."

That's when it hit me.  He didn't want the cops or doctors?  This was the guy those mobsters were looking for.  He had injuries you couldn't go to a general hospital to treat without getting caught.

I didn't know what to do.  Sure looked young for the job, but I guess they get all sorts of types.  Still, even if he's a criminal I couldn't just leave him there.  That was when I heard more footsteps, some shouting.  He whirled around, swearing.  That's when I made up my mind.  "Quick, in here."

"Huh?"

"I mean it, quick!  Step in here!"  I held out my hand.  He hesitated a second, but grabbed it.  I dragged him into the apartment, closed the door, and brought him up to my room.  The masked guys passed by a couple times, but nobody ever tried to knock down my door, so I'd say we got lucky.  I had a first-aid kit in my kitchen, and I'm certified, so I was able to patch him up.  He had mostly cuts and slices, a pretty deep one in his shoulder.  I didn't have any kinda painkiller on me, but he took it like a champ, I gotta say, a few winces and nothing else.  Guy's got mad pain tolerance.

He stayed the night.  And looks like he'll be staying tonight, too.  He slept all day, still haven't had a proper conversation though.  He was up for a few hours a bit ago, and shoved his laptop into my hands, told me to make a post on his blog to tell people what had happened to him, before he went under again.

So.  Here I am.  Geez, I hope I don't get in trouble for this.  My curiousity's sated, anyway, and Konaa looks like he'll be okay.  I was tempted to call the police more than once, but I haven't seen hide or hair of those masked guys, so I think we'll be fine.  He seemed eager to get going, so I doubt I'll be entertaining him much longer.  So to those whom it may concern, your friend's okay, but he took a beating.

I hope this doesn't make me an accomplice, shit.  I don't want nothing to do with the mafia.