SO. As you, the peanut gallery of NANCY NEGATIVES and WANNABE Psychologists, have CLEARLY NOTED. I'm back.
Good to know Spinner lost fucking INTEREST in the job I gave him, only after TWO GODDAMN WEEKS. Which... You know, isn't SURPRISING, just disappointing. WHATEVER. Who cares. This isn't about him and his little science project. This is about ME. This about FATHER. This is about the things I do for Father. Heheheh.
I take too much vacation time.
SO, I am fully recovered from the... Psychological issues I had been dealing with, and I've gotten some work done since I regained consciousness. Seems everyone's favorite Torturer/Cannibal/Monster Freak Show/TRAITOR/Serial Killer Who people, for some reason seemed to personally LIKE, despite being CLEARLY worse than I've ever been, has put up the details of that... Little meeting, thank-you for trying dinner, thing. She covered everything that happened adequately enough. Not much more to add, really. I tried to be nice, I really did. Offered to repair crippling disfigurements and was told to go fuck myself. Tell me, why is it that whenever I am trying to be nice to someone, no one fucking appreciates it. It really isn't fair, you know.
Oh Well. Guess the only solution is to stop being nice.
It was a useful little trip though. The big bad Wolf turns out is actually kinda short. Like 5'4" or so. Also I thought she wore a mask? Guess she ditched it when coming back. Can't really blame her, though, because her face seems to fulfill the same function. Some weird red... Thread things, I guess they are, kinda stitched through her entire face. Around the eyes and mouth and shit. Don't know how they biologically work, or what they are. She smiles, they move. It's weird. She also didn't wear shoes. In Canada. In the Winter. So that's a thing. No nails either, fingers or toes. I have no idea why. She still has hair, though. Maybe someone more scientifically inclined can explain that one to me... Unless it isn't hair... Hmmm.
I can also confirm there is a mouth on her stomach, and she can eat using it. The world has gotten weird, hasn't it? I'll fix that little problem soon enough.
Kristy and Hart both have the stitching shit too, so I assume Wolf fixed them up after Osprey's shit-show of a ceremony. Really should have checked to see what that shit was, but I figured dissecting Wolf might get me, you know, incinerated. Another time, I guess... I also probably should have picked a fight with either Hart or Kristy. See what they can do, how they were trained and shit. I distinctly recall a number of posts mentioning sparring, so that might have told me a bit about how they and, more importantly, Wolf actually fight. Though, once again, my innocent curiosity probably would have gotten me BURNED.
Also DISAPPOINTED yet again in the peanut gallery and their little comments. I MERCY-KILLED that prisoner. No other way of looking at it, she was suffering and I put her out of her misery. I am SUCH A NICE GUY. But do I get any recognition for that act of mercy? No. And I guranFUCKINGtee you people will STILL think that Mutt and her puppies are better people than me. I don't GET IT. I have done NOTHING Wolf wouldn't do, and yet I'm the BAD GUY. This is David Banks shit all over again. Why did people like that guy? WHY? He RAPED PEOPLE. HE MURDERED PEOPLE. GOOD PEOPLE. INNOCENT PEOPLE. PEOPLE LIKE YOU, READER. YES YOU. BEHIND THAT SCREEN. NOT YOU KELEVRA, YOU BANDAGED FUCK. AND NOT THE WOLF PACK. I MEAN YOU, ANONYMOUS RANDOM READER WHO STUMBLED ACROSS THIS. Tell me, why is it that I am so fucking REVILED and people like Banks and Wolf are treated with SUCH FUCKING COURTESY AND SUPPORT AND UNDERSTANDING. It makes me want to VOMIT. And then KILL EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU.
Which, mind you, I intended to do regardless of your support for rapists and torturers.
ANYWAY, the food was good, and I will admit... I kind of miss it already. I can't cook for shit, and people are well... Here's a fun fact for you. I promised to be honest on this little blog, so here goes... I don't actually LIKE the taste of people all that much. Kinda greasy at the best of times, and frequently tastes like bad tuna. I never DID like it that much. I will eat it, sure... But give me chicken any day of the week over long-pig. For a while there, a lot of that talk about me eating people... I really only did it because, well, that shit was expected of me. Tensor basically recruited me while I was still gnawing on Dad's arm. That kinda of gives you a reputation going into things, and... Well. In this career, it never hurts to try and live up to that reputation. Helps you survive in the world. And that is actually my advice to new Proxies out there: Find your gimmick, and embrace it. The moment you join the family, you stop being John, or Diana, or whoever, and you start being a new person. The Mask helps with that, I think.
You know Sanna, you really ought to start wearing a mask, yourself. I mean... As you are right now, are you really worth anything? Just a broken little dolly. Why not put on a mask, huh? Make something new out of yourself. A new name, a new face, a new fate. Blank Slate. The World is your oyster. You should give it a try.
But yeah, that little dinner with the ex-family wasn't the only thing I've been doing. Remember how I was chasing a fucker from Europe back home to the states? Well, that College I tracked him to is a fascinating place. Basically a fucking Cult town, only the Cult doesn't really understand what it is worshiping. There is this guy, Thomas Corvin. Pitiful fucker. Rich as hell, but only vaguely aware of the horrible, wonderful, truths all around him. He knows about Father, but is unlucky enough to have NEVER BEEN BLESSED by him. He isn't a runner, he isn't a proxy. He is, effectively, nobody. Father didn't feel he was worth his time, or something. And God DAMN does that rustle his three-thousand dollar jimmies. Or however much they are worth... What are "jimmies" anyway?
... Oh. Shit. They might be... Slaves? Ah. That's a bit awkward. Probably gonna stop using that phrase now... The more you know?
Anywho, this Corvin guy, he has been trying his DAMNDEST to get Father or another of the Great Ones to notice his ass. Even named a fraternity at that College, which he owns, after the Timberwolves. Because getting the Archangel to notice you sounds like a REALLY good idea. He also plasters all sorts of shit around the college grounds that he thinks might attact Fear attention... And yeah. It does kind of work. A lot of Runners come out of that College. An ideal hunting ground, but... Honestly. If you kill off the breeding ground, the population suffers. So we've let it be for the past few years.
Now Corvin, as a wealthy modern day occultist, knows a lot of other people interested in this sort of thing. The very Alexandre Loreid I am looking for is one such person, and we speculated he stole the THING I AM NOT ALLOWED TO TALK ABOUT and brought it to Corvin for some kind of ritual.
Well, we couldn't have that. So, when I woke up, I paid the college a little visit. Nothing spectacularly obvious, of course. I just walked in and went into every place the staff told me I couldn't be in. Not like they could stop me, right? Hehehehe.
The... Chambers beneath the College are particularly interesting... Old, well-preserved, and devoted to things other than what was typically worshiped by Native Americans in the area. More on that... Another time, I think. We're honestly still taking inventory for the things we recovered from that site... But for now, I will simply say, that the increased activity of Father and the others, over the past decade or so, has had a notable effect on the amount of raw azoth just laying around. The dumbass runners are basically walking azoth factories, and if they knew at all how to use it... Man, would the world be a different place.
Corvin and Loreid though... They seem to know what to do with it, and were conspicuously NOT FUCKING THERE when I arrived. So that is my current top priority. Then I can start dealing with my fellow walking corpses...
