Oh Anja. I have failed you miserably. I’m so sorry I was so incredibly late and unable to help you. My heart is heavy with the thoughts of the suffering and fear your last days were filled with. Know, my sweet friend, that I will do all I can to put things right and avenge you the horrible deeds brought upon you. I am so sorry.
Sorry, heartsick and confused. There is a stink in the air here in Paris. Something that is rotten and decidedly off. It can be seen in the aether as well, eddying in dank, curls and swirls about the feet of the unsuspecting citizens of this supposedly beautiful city.
In my searchings for you, Anja, I have encountered other Rippers and will be attending a meeting in the hopes of getting their aid and sorting some of this mess out, although I fear the problem is far greater than my intrepid group of friends can handle. I think it might be beyond the scope of the entire of the Rippers community to deal with at this point. Paris could very well be totally lost.
I believe, as I wait for the appointed hour I will allow myself to weep and feel sorry for all that is lost in my life. Over the past year I have not often regretted my choice of joining up with these hunters of all that is monsterous, but I do this night. I just wish to be home once again, in PopPop’s lounge, thumbing through technical manuals and dreaming the silly dreams of young girls… or… perhaps back in Switzerland with the snow falling quietly outside while that strapping fellow from Luxembourg rubs warmth back into my feet and trails kisses up my legs.
So, forgive me the indulgence, dear Anja, and know that I will carry your memory with me until my dying day… and that I am deeply and profoundly sorry.