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wondered if my most recent opponent was as famous as he
would have me believe.
“I have,” replied Hide. “He’s a bit of an escape artist,
is he not? I believe he was responsible for the mass
killing of several convicted murderers reposed within a
maximum-security prison, a structure quite famous for
its impregnability. Quite the feat—if the story is true, of
course.”
“From what I’ve seen, it seems likely,” I said ruefully. “I
have to admit my initial impression of the creature was a bit
lackluster. However, that impression has since been revised,
and considerably so.”
“I can’t say I’m not disappointed he hasn’t killed you,”
Hide said. “I see our meeting going rather poorly for you,
and with precious few stand-out moments to satisfy me long
after your pelt has been treated and hung. When you get
right down to the bones of the matter, you’re little more than
an inferior version of myself. Your chief attributes are all
similar to my own, only less refined and powerful. It seems
to me the Prince of Smoke could do you the favor of sparing
you an awful lot of humiliation, while providing me with a
more diversified and thus challenging opponent.”
“Your obsession with your swollen muscles is
disappointing,” I countered, smiling. “I’d hoped you’d be a
bit more refined by way of an operating philosophy, which
is precisely why you and I are not very alike at all. You see,
my primary attribute is my artistic sense, a particular quality
that seems wholly lost on you, regrettably. And there’s the
fact that you’re clearly the smaller and weaker creature
between us.” I desperately wanted to yield to at least one
of the baser temptations I’d experienced that night—though
truth be told, I was much more interested in the Prince’s
advertised magic show.
Up to this point, the dream was largely unformed, merely
a dark place at the bottom of a murky ocean. After my poorly
veiled insult, the waters began to churn with the blood
254 | Mark Anzalone