Our hero has reasserted his authority over your writer of pulp. Who knows what might have happened to the discipline of narrative. Not quite certain how it happened, or why it happened but despite valiant attempts and through no fault of his or mine, he's been sent to the Afon-Bedd Isolation Cells. Sometimes I think he just likes being alone and hasn't quite grasped the idea that punishment is supposed to change behaviors rather than offer an opportunity for that sort of rambling the professionals call prolix when they wish to dismiss it, or travel brochures when they see advantage.
I remember a book called Fear Is The Key. I was made very uncomfortable by the
title for the assumption it made, but read it because at the time there wasn't
much else to do and the cover had certain Lemuel Caution qualities. The "fear"
part, so far as I can remember, had not so much to do with a trail of dead
bodies, rather it had to do with a revenge seeking very angry, career minded
hero eliciting an end to narrative with a final confession from self centered,
mean villains by threatening to drown both himself and them in a small submarine
that belonged to one of those billionaires. Pretty desperate, but might be worth