The Catacombs

You know, I've really grown to love basements. One of the defining moments of my life, the act that would eventually lead me down this GLORIOUS PATH, took place in the basement of my childhood home. And since then? Well, basements have always meant wonderful things were about to take place. They are isolated, dark, and can be filled with all sorts of TOYS. So, imagine my delight when I found out about what was underneath my office building.

My brothers and sisters seem to call it “The Catacombs.” Which isn't really fair. Until I moved in, we didn't keep corpses down there. Hell, we usually didn't MAKE them down there. No, we used “The Catacombs” to store our beloved Hallowed. And they are indeed HALLOWED. Not Hollowed. Having Him inside your head, rearranging things, changing you into something new and PURE... That is a holy act, if there ever was one. They aren't capable of hate, cruelty or anger. They don't act out of malice... Heh. Most don't act at all, until given instruction from Father. If all the humans of the world were like them, well... The world would be a better place. It would, however, be spectacularly BORING. And we just can't have that.

Ah, but despite how special they are, they don't do well in public situations. So we keep them hidden away. Good old fashioned hidden compartment, leading to a secret elevator. Down to the Catacombs. No idea how deep down it is, but the elevator ride is fairly lengthy. Annoying for when it is just me, but oh MAN does it provide an... Atmosphere... For my guests. We PROBABLY should install some new lights down there, because... I admit... If one of my guests got out, we would have a REAL hard time finding them. But the risk is worth it. Just for the look on their face, when the elevator opens up into pitch fucking darkness. People have a primal fear of the dark, you know. All of them. Doesn't matter how brave. That dumb animal part of the brain remembers its ancestors experiences in the dark of the night. So my guests take one look into that WALL of dark that greets open elevator... And even the most defiant moron or mouthy shithead shuts up and stares for a few moments. With that EXPRESSION. We all know it, don't we? Heheheheh. DREAD.

Then I wheel them out, and deep inside. The Hallowed, they kind of... Shuffle around in there, when not given any orders. They are quiet, of course. But that just adds to it, you know? Sometimes I like to wheel the guest in, and just... Leave them there, while I slip away for a while. Usually attending another guest, Father knows we have PLENTY... But when I come back, the slow panic is... Well... Delicious, really. The silence. The dark. Without sight, the senses get all heightened. And it doesn't take long for the guest to realize they aren't alone. Maybe their eyes adjust to the dark, and they see SHAPES. Heheheh. Just silent shapes moving in the gloom. And the guest has no FUCKING idea what to expect. They don't know that those are hallowed. Some don't even know hallowed exist. And the hallowed don't care about the guest. They never interact with them in any meaningful way. Some wander close, but unless the guest is in their way, they'll just keep on going...

The interesting stuff happens when I manage to put a guest in the way, though. Heheheheheh.

But eventually I do come back. And you know, 9 times out of 10, they usually happy to have me back. Relieves the tension. Of course... Since I figured that fact out, I have been experimenting with keeping my mouth shut when I come back. Trying to mimic the pace of the Hallowed. So I grab the chair and begin SLOWLY pushing. And they usually ask if it is me. They call my name, start making demands. Most never beg anymore. Want to die with... I dunno... Dignity or spitting defiance. Makes them feel more in control, I guess. I had a phase like that. Useless. If I kept them long enough, they would know how fucking useless defiance is. Making Jokes. No one DIES with dignity... If you collected all the dignity from all the stupid fucking humans in the world, it wouldn't amount to enough for a single truly dignified death.

Heh. Been meaning to talk to some of the other “executives” in the building about pumping some of Spinner's gas into the Catacombs. Doesn't bother the Hallowed any, or me. Though everyone else would need to wear some kind of gas mask to keep from hallucinating. Shouldn't be a problem for them, not like anyone but me really uses the place, except to grab Hallowed every once in a while...

Huh. Also probably need to talk to Spinner about what kind of lights might be useful to have in the place. Something that can help the gas, the sound and the dark do their work. I want time to lose all meaning when my guests are in those halls. Let the play chambers become a safe space, despite what goes on. Heheheheh. Oh man... That would be fun. Torture Chambers becoming the only place my guests feel “safe.” The ultimate in escape proof Cells. How about that? HAHAHAHAHA.

But the cherry on top is going to be what we are building in the Catacombs. BENEATH them. There was this one time, we were all in a Hedge Maze with some dumbass Runners. Hunting them down. Slaughtered all but one, and she didn't come out too good. Quite the experience for us though. I LOVED it. But it could have been better... So. With a little support from The Cipher, we are building our own little Minoan Labyrinth beneath the Catacombs. The Entrance is going to be a hole in the floor. And we'll have an exit built somewhere else in the Catacombs. Away from the Elevator, of course... Heheheheh. It will be filled with all sorts of HORRIBLE things. I'll probably have to be the one to set up the traps, of course. Not like they can hurt ME. But it will ensure they are appropriately LETHAL. And HILARIOUS. You know... Hmmm. Maybe I'll set up traps from each of the Saw movies. That would be a good reference, and... I dunno. Maybe “reward” the more cultured guests, who might have seen those movies? Freebie Traps? I do like to play favorites, heheheheheheheh.

Gravemarker

You know, I admit. I have been back to the place where it all went down. Where I got the crap kicked out of me and fell off a building. Into a fire. But I never really... Lingered before now. Really let the sensation of deja vu sink in. I hate that fucking building. I don't know what I was thinking running to it, like I did. Probably figured I could lose her inside, and slip out when while she gets lost... If I was thinking at all.

Give myself some credit. For the state I was in, I did pretty goddamn good. I spent a long ass time eating nothing but raw meat, running around and sleeping outside... Didn't notice or care about any damage to my body... Everything was just fear, you know? That kind of mind-breaking terror Runners go through every moment they spend within HIS glorious presence. Only there wasn't a reprieve from it for me. It was like... Like he was with me the entire time. And pissed. That whole fucking... Chapter of my life is just a blur of vague feelings. Hungry. Scared. Angry. Terrified. Guilty. Horror. Despair. Pain... And then I came to my senses, strapped to a bed, being tended to by someone who must have spent every waking moment of a period of months thinking about my horrible death. Now THAT is comedy. Couldn't have been planned and executed more perfectly. HA.

So I wrote my last posts as a normal, living human being. I was elated to be back. Angry of fucking course that I had done something so MONUMENTALLY STUPID as defecting. Running away from my promises, my mission, everything I had sacrificed, worked for and built... She was persuasive. Easy to trust. That was a mistake. Holy SHIT that was a mistake. Those idiot couriers knew it was mistake, even while I was in denial of it... Heh. Sagey still practically calling for my head at the time, for what I had done to Kay... Oh but waking up in that bed, knowing I was part of the family again... It felt good. But it didn't feel... Right. There was something missing, and both she and I knew what it was... So I figured that might be it for me. So I wrote that last post... Idiot that I was. Still partially in denial about a lot of fucking things... And then I stood up. And holy SHIT did my lifestyle for the past while catch up to me in that moment. I guess I kinda knew, then and there, that I was done for. She was healthy, eager for blood and would have been dangerous even if I WAS at 100%. But I couldn't exactly show that, otherwise she might not have been cautious... So the chase was on.

Her post does a pretty adequate job at describing the whole shitty ordeal. I needed to lose her, because I did not have faith that I could outfight her. But He wouldn't let me lose her. And we ended up there. In that ruin of a factory. Couldn't get the damn door to shut in time, and it was ALL downhill after that. But it really did end perfectly. Kudos to Samael for that. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. All THE BITCH wanted was to kill me to death with her own two useless hands for murdering her stupid family. Instead, she watched me fall off a building to my death, laughing at the irony of it all, into an exploding oil truck. Denying her sweet revenge. What seemed, at the time, to be a freak accident. But I knew what had happened. I saw the driver get out, when I hit the ground. Did you know, when the heart stops and the body dies, the brain remains active for a little while? Even while I COOKED in that fire, I could see them standing there, Father and Samael, watching his little experiment enter a new phase. Designer Baby Proxies. Surprised they didn't try it sooner. Heheheh.

So Mitch was unable to get her vengeance, and I had paid the price for my stupidity. Win-Win for them.

Not great memories of that place. Can still see some of the scorch marks from the fire, it seems. Took a long, long, look at that whole area, and to be honest, I am not entirely sure which spot marks where I died.

You know, I didn't even get a burial for the burnt meat that remained, which I guess was handy for when they brought me back. I wonder... Where would they have put it, if she were to have made one. Elaine... Mitch herself wouldn't have made one, ever. I wouldn't have, in her place, of if our positions were switched. I would have just let her ROT...

October 6^th. That will mark seven whole years since I died, burning and in agony. Pretty close to my birthday too, which I suppose is also appropriate huh?

Such strange feelings about it all. Don't know what to make of them... Oh Well. Suppose it is for the best to forget about it for now. Keeping busy helps, or so they tell me, and there is plenty of work left to be done... And I do enjoy my job.

The Status Quo

The organization has been reshaped a bit since the purge and after Cordelia woke me back up three years ago, I even got a position of honest-to-goodness POWER. I'm like... An executive and shit. Really THINK about that. I am someone's BOSS. Now, three years on, I am not POSITIVE exactly whose boss I am, but I do have an office now. I have my degree on the wall, a big desk and a chair. No windows, but who fucking needs them. I'm embedded on the fifth floor of a building we apparently own. Its funny though. The only way IN to my office is through a locked off elevator on the second floor. I'm all secretive and shit now. Hidden compartments EVERYWHERE in here. Probably standard for these types of places but who knows. I am not an architect. Naturally, I am not ALONE. There are at least a couple other of my brothers and sisters skulking about. Handlers I think, based on the smell and air of superiority. Reminds me of Tensor. Duplicitous BITCH.

You know, Tensor may have recruited me, but it was Nightscream who actually properly mentored me. Side note, Nightscream is a MUCH better name for it than “Gauntlet.” I wear shoes... Well I WORE shoes, but I don't go around calling myself shoe. Fucking ridiculous. You adopt a new name, a new life, why not make it something... Memorable. More befitting of the best goddamn agent we ever had.

… Not a day goes BY that I don't regret not being there to help it out when it needed me. The OTHER one was there, but given Redlight's control over him, he would have been no use whatsoever. But... I dunno maybe... If someone other than Banks tried nursing it back to health... Maybe the outcome could have been different. But I suppose that's the way of things... It doing the same shit I did, in the biggest... Second biggest FUCKING mistake of my life... You know death would have been a MERCY compared to what actually happened. And there is not a damn thing I can do about it. Life in the Castle is torture. I've seen it. Valtiel, Samael, showed me when he brought me back. Put all sorts of things in my head, that I should know to be a more effective tool. Don't get me wrong, I know I am just a tool and my opinions don't fucking matter to those great Powers that Be... But it just seems like a waste. For Nightscream to be rotting in that place...

Ah, fuck. I thought venting was supposed to make you FEEL better. Heheheh. Ah, no wonder everyone on here was so goddamn miserable.

Anyway... Yeah, the office is nice. I'm supposed to attend meeting and shit too. All the highers get together and discuss things and vote on things like a good shadow council. Well, I'm far too busy with shit to deal in boring details. So I usually send a delegate in my place. Very qualified individual. I call him Mister Williams.

Now, how Mister Williams works is, I take a victim. Normally a family member or a friend of a Runner. And we go through the usual motions in the Happy-Funtimes Chamber, with the implements of everlasting joy and friendship. So, what I like to do now, is take off the right hand, usually with a chainsaw, but sometimes I like to vary it up. Variety is the spice of life, blah-blah-blah. Then I get all the blood out and stick the thing into a salt solution next to a heater. Then I let it sit for a couple months, and get it out. Voila. Mister Williams is born. So after a long job interview with Williams I decided he would be perfect to represent me at the meetings. So I took some tape and kind of broke the hand into the shape I wanted (A thumbs up) and then mailed it to The Cipher. I hear Williams is doing great in those meetings. Even been the swing vote in a few instances. Never had a more capable employee.

You know who ISN'T capable? Jimmy. Fucking JIMMY. The bane of my existence. He is everything WRONG with humanity, the worst worker I could ever DREAM of having. Jimmy is the WORST. For starters, his name is David, and FUCK THAT. That is a shitty name that belongs to a shitty rapist, so he is Jimmy now. Second, he doesn't seem to FULLY understand what his job is. He is my SECRETARY. That means he is meant to do SECRETARY things, like sitting a desk and looking at papers. Or answering phone calls, or... Something.

But you know what he does instead? “Oh, PLEASE Mister Morningstar, can I go home now?” “Please can't you just take the chain off my leg?” “But Mister Morningstar, I can't go get coffee, I'm chained to a desk. And you don't like coffee.” FUCK YOU JIMMY. OKAY? JUST FUCK YOU. YOU WHINY LITTLE SHIT. YOU ARE THE WORST SECRETARY IN HISTORY, AND EASILY THE WORST I HAVE EVER HAD. And I've had a LOT at this point. Like... 30. Or so. There were identical twins I hired separately. The second twin was annoying because he kept trying to “save” his brother. And it got annoying, so I just FIRED the first twin and hired the second. Of course, then this guy tried to mug me about a month later, and I just KNEW I needed him as my new secretary. So out with the old, in with new. But he kept trying to break the chains and... Bah. Who cares. Jimmy is the new secretary, and the fucker is here to stay. He is so goddamn useless that letting him outside would be dangerous to ANY other employer. So fuck it. I'll bite the bullet. I am a goddamn MARTYR for this, and EVERYONE who has employees ought to get down on their knees and THANK ME.

But you won't. Because I get NO respect. After ALL that I have done. Keep comparing me to a rabid fucking dog. I'm more than that, you know? Got a good head on my shoulders. Fucking show them one day...

Right, yeah. So. That is life at the moment. Shit I have to put up with. Could be worse. Could be dead, again. Burning.

Burning.

Huh. Maybe I should go back there. See what it is like.

Relaxation

Ah man. I kind of missed the blogging experience. This will be... What. My third blog? Fourth from this account, if you count Morgan's stint? Second if you take into account it was a different Morningstar behind Shade? This is certainly a less... Dramatic time to be kicking things back off. I am certainly in a much better head-space now than I was when all this shit started, or started back. And the most amusing thing is, to me, that I am almost completely alone on here now. When I first started, oh man... There was a community of morons trying to survive by communicating, cooperating and discussing just how FUCKED they were over blogger. BLOGGER. Even Facebook would have been more secure.

Though. Not secure enough, as many idiots who HAVE tried that little idea have found out. Heheheheheheh.

But that community is gone now. They lost the game, as I kept telling them they inevitably would. And for all their defiance, all their sacrifices, all the fear and the death and the necessary evils... It didn't fucking MATTER. We are still here. Our Father is still here, and he still hunts. From the forests. From the streets. From those corners in your room that you can't see from your computer... Ah... Business as usual, despite the efforts of Sages and Cops and Para-Military jackasses.

BAD END Folks. Ha. As if any of you are going to read this, outside of Kelly, Sanna, Dr. Spookypants or the Wolf Pack. Everyone else is gone, and good riddance. I don't even feel the need to play my old games with what little audience I have left. So this time? This blog is for me, and not just for the job. Does it count as my memoirs? Not like I see myself ever retiring.

Or being allowed to retire.

I suppose me posting my every little secret on here might encourage some new readers, but... I doubt they will ever be so stupid as to operate like they did. Posting their struggles for all idiots to see, and when they see it... They get involved. How many people did Zeke Strahm get killed by posting that blog? Or Reach, or Zero.

HAHAHAHAHAHA. RIGHT. SO. Probably should get this out here. If you are some idiot who stumbled onto this blog, I recommend fucking RIGHT THE HELL OFF and going back to your sad, pathetic life. Go look up pictures of cute kittens doing adorable things. Feel those warm fuzzy feelings that inevitably fade and leave you with that hollow feeling inside that you can't fill no matter what you do. It is better that way. The more you read here, the more likely it is you will get involved, whether you want to or not. Which suits me just fine, mind you, I'm sure we'll get personally acquainted VERY well, but just don't say I didn't warn you, okay?

ANYWAY. I guess... I'm gonna use this blog to vent some frustrations, and... Record some achievements for me to look back on in a few decades with pride or wistful nostalgia. Or maybe I'll get bored with it and go find a homeless person to torment for a few weeks. Hard to tell, but for now... For now I am here. The headstone atop a mass grave of failed heroes, hopeless victims and cowardly survivors.

Feels like home.