Boring, boring, everything was made of boring.

Killer was twirling his trusty knife along his phalanges, restlessly fidgeting with the blade. He felt like he was doing a billion things, bouncing his leg, whistling, fending off intrusive thoughts...

Why was he just sitting here? The right-of-mind Killer would be out and about, looking for his mates, or someone new to pester. Maybe he could drop by some random universe's shelter and pet a cat.

Wiping some of the droopy, adhesive substance from his cheeks, he propelled himself off the sofa with a hefty shove.

First step to getting things done - getting up and about. The possibilities were endless!

Stopping to look himself in the mirror for a moment, he looked himself up and down. Damn, he looked good. His soul was visible in a healthy, spiraling glow at his chest, and he was producing far less liquid hate today.

Maybe he should hit up a club and see what happens. Worst case scenario, someone ends up messing with him and he kills a guy. It wasn't a 'worst' at all, in Killer's eyes. At least it'd be entertaining.

Filled with renewed vigor, Killer was prepared to tackle the new day!