December 20th, 2003...

One million dollars, US. A measly one with six zeros following it.

That's what my life is worth. My former pit boss has put a price on my head. Bloody git... I'm worth well over three abroad. There is a total disregard for investigative research these days, Ripper. Had he bothered to check the going rate online, he'd have seen the Kry'ker Clan of Northern Italy has placed a generous bid for my heart. I believe they valued the heart of a sorcerer as worth eight souls. I haven't any use for souls at the moment; otherwise I'd have taken them up on the offer. I haven't used the bloody thing in years, but you know that already, dear boy.

Correction, I've just been IM'd and the latest offer is two million.

Wait... seems it's not my head he wants after all. He wants my...

Oh... well, can't imagine parting with that.

Seems the lovely Miss Lisa is with child and Carbionè has been unable to perform in that arena for well over a year now. No wonder the poor young thing sought out some companionship. Strange, I have the sudden urge to pass out cigars and purchase a minivan. But unlike you, my departed friend, I will not go quietly into the night. I refuse to accept such an ugly end. But, I suppose I should acknowledge my responsibilities, shouldn't I? Perhaps I should send her a little something.

Who am I kidding, the last thing she needs in her condition is a reminder of me. Then again, she'll have the rest of her life to think about that.