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.