Late, I know

I've been busy, what do you want from me...

SO. Promised details about my little trip to College, and the things I found down there. To reiterate some shit, I knew about this college thanks to some dumbass student who became a runner a few years back. Found the blog, trolled him a little bit, found about Spinner and then I presume the kid fucking died or something.

That tends to happen.

ANYWAY, when planning a visit to a compound full of, presumably, people who wouldn't be terribly happy to see me, it is usually a good idea to take the subtle approach to things. Be SNEAKY. So I made sure I only went wandering around the place under cover of night. The underground... Temple thing... Could provide good shelter for when the students are up and about. Had a pretty good idea of where to find an entrance thanks to good old Jeremy there. Plan was to snoop around the ruins, then take a look inside Tommy Corvin's house.

It went... Okay. Arrived as expected, it was dark, the students were asleep, Campus Security was, as always, a joke. And then I noticed that not all the students were in bed. A few were creeping around the buildings, drawing shit on walls. You see this occasionally with Runners. That fever-pitch desire to put the shit floating around their brains onto something more permanent than thought. Makes them feel less crazy. Permanency is a calming concept, you know? Heheheheh. Idiots. Thing is, though, most of these morons looked like they were just drawing shit from memory, rather than active thought. Slower, more deliberate, pondering, trying to remember a detail here or there... These weren't runners. They weren't one of us, either. No, this is a fucking know-nothing Occultist Cult. The dead idiot kid mentioned them acting as a fraternity at the College, under Corvin's control. Pathetic. He even named them Timberwolves, to try and get the attention of the ACTUAL Timberwolves. Which... Considering those jackasses are probably the weakest overall true Cult, is not the worst play for someone trying to get involved in this shit. But, from what I can tell, no one is actually taking the bait here. Corvin is apparently so fucking uninteresting that not a single one of the Great Ones is bothering to go haunt him, no matter how hard he tries.

I love it. Isn't life so fucking FAIR? Heheheheheh. All these Runners out there who want NOTHING more than to be free to live their pathetic little lives in peace, who never asked to be hunted... And here we have a guy LOOKING to get haunted, but fucking can't. Fucking GOLDEN.

ANYHOO. So these idiots were plastering shit on the walls, and didn't really notice me up until the point that they did. Well. One did. Assumed I was a student out of bed, so he tried to start something. What he lacked for in judgment, he made up for in Taste. Boy must have had a rich diet. So after that, I made it to the Auditorium building, broke the lock, and strolled inside to find the passage downstairs.

Now I'm going to let you in on a little secret. The ruins beneath this school are old as dirt. Older than European Colonization of North America. But the Native Americans, especially around these parts, could NEVER make a structure like that with the tools they had available. So who built it? Ponder that for a while, and know that I do have the answer. But I'll never tell. Heheheheheh.

The darkness in that place is oppressive, really. Weighs down on you, like the entire weight of the ruins are trying to crush you into nothing. I don't have an actual pulse, but my heart was still racing in there... A rare sensation for me, these days. It was thrilling. Corvin's people have installed some lights here or there. Gotta give him credit here, he has a flair for the dramatic. Some of the lights are meant to mimic the appearance of torches, though with a colder light. Real easy to get lost, though, if you don't follow the lights. Don't know exactly how long that idiot has had access to the place, but he clearly hasn't explored it all yet. Heheheheh. God help him if he does. He may not like what he finds.

The lights provided a convenient method of figuring out where the useful areas, for my mission, were. So I wandered those crumbling, stone, tunnels until I found a nice little Ritual Room, beneath a statue of a giant spider thing. Now, that, I can't explain. No idea what it is, though I know of a few things it could be. I was hoping to find our stolen property down there, but no such luck. Based on some notes I found in a desk, (Which I will not be posting here, fuck you) I am pretty sure our property WAS there, at the very least. The translations weren't... Perfect, but I get the feeling those fuckers got the gist of some of the information, which is not good. Very bad, in fact. Especially for me, because they might know how to kill me now. Maybe. Assuming they didn't leave behind the final version of the translations, and have the talent to put 2 and 2 together... Still. It is one thing to know how to do it, and another entirely to actually do it.

I am not worried.

Still, knowing that our property wasn't likely there anymore, I figured I needed to get some advice on how to proceed. So I laid low until some fake Timberwolves showed up, and we had a nice chat beneath the spider statue. Loreid WAS there, and he did work Tommy Corvin. There was also a third person working with them, that they didn't know. And neither do I just based on physical descriptions... Male, dark hair, tall, strong build... Wears a lot of red. Which is never a color I like to see people wear, for obvious reasons. Its not HIM though. He's dead, his successor is dead, and Cordelia is... Not around anymore.

Probably just a fashion choice. Though I have sneaking suspicion this might be the fucker who helped Loreid get to our property to begin with. So he probably used to be one of us. Another goddamn Traitor. Phenomenal.

They apparently spent a few weeks trying to translate the damn thing, but the two chucklefucks I interrogated weren't sure EXACTLY how far the translating got, before Loreid and Mystery Man left, with Corvin leaving on "Vacation" shortly thereafter.

I made my frustration with this shit known to those two fine Cultists, and left them in the loving embrace of the Spider Statue.

I hate bad news.

So, the next step was checking our Corvin's big, fancy, fucking house. I really kinda HATE big fancy houses. Reminds me of my youth. So sterile, so hollow. But built, INEVITABLY on a foundation of filth, misery and pain. And the Master of the household always likes to have a room at the top, to overlook everything else like a God looks down on us lowly mortals. If Corvin was there, I would have chucked him out the highest window I could find, and watch him splat on the concrete below.

So I walked up to the manor, smashed the doorman's head into a wall, gutted the butler and threw the maid down a well. Didn't really feel I had the time to do anything more fun with them. Funny thing though, I did get shot in the face by a door shotgun, when I tried getting into the Study. Splattered my head all over the wall. It sucked. I hate getting shot in the face and splattered. Feels gross, you know? Regardless, I didn't fucking find much in the way of helpful information. Lots of little journals of Corvin's speculation about Father and his kin. He even had notes about some of the blogs that were on here, especially the scientific ones, and the idiot tests that were performed. As if Father was some scientific phenomena, instead of a God, unknowable and incomprehensible to sad little mortals. Hehehe. He wasn't even POSITIVE on the number of Father's kin, the idiot.

There was also this floor of the Manor set up like a Museum of shit that doesn't matter. I remember reading about Jeremy's visit, and what Corvin claimed this shit was. Based on my own little visit... Yeah. Yeah, the stuff is mostly what he said it was. Except for the Sarcophagus. Definitely not who he thinks it is inside that Sarcophagus.

So, I recovered the painting, the important books, and the mirror, and now have them hanging up in my office. NO WORRIES. Jimmy can't see the Mirror from where he is sitting. We take employee safety VERY seriously here, and I just can't risk losing even a worker as useless as him to the Mother.

Should help keep my office a little more secure, though.

ANYHOW. Somewhat concerned that Corvin knew to booby trap his study. Means they were expecting company. UGH. They probably know about me hunting them... Hopefully they haven't found THIS. Not like the blogs have been terribly active lately, so they really have no reason.

Not sure where to go next, but that isn't REALLY my job. That is Intelligence division's job. So. I've been waiting for them to provide me with my next lead. For over a month.

In the meantime, I've been hard at work training up a little squad that I am now... A Handler for, I guess. Probably shouldn't give details about them on here, until this Loreid business is finished, just in case. They are... Adequate, so far. Enthusiastic enough, but not so skilled I would send them after, for example, That Pack of Stray Dogs up north... Maybe when they've gotten a few more successes under their belts. We'll see.

Gonna try to get back to posting... Weekly-ish, on here. Assuming stuff happens worth talking about, that won't make my underlings less effective in the field. We'll see. We will see.

Return & Travels

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...

Advancement of Knowledge

Morningstar's condition continues to improve. His mass has recovered to the density it possessed prior to the surgery. Restoring the complexity of its structure is, however, a seemingly slower task. I confess myself quite curious as to why this is the case. Azoth can be anything, in any form, at any time, provided it has the raw material necessary to facilitate transmutation. I can think of no obvious physical reasons why it would be having such difficulty reforming the complex structures it had before. 

Rest assured, they are indeed forming at a steady pace, but it should be instantaneous. Unless, of course, there is a reason beyond the mere physical at play. It may be that forming a structure as complex as a mind requires... An easing in? It could be that there would be some form of psychological side-effects if the mind simply popped back into existence all of a sudden. But this pure speculation.

More concrete are my observations regarding the transmutation process itself. That this mass of azoth alone can and will become Morningstar, would imply that the Attendants somehow imprinted the memory of Morningstar onto the raw azoth. Which seems impossible, until we remember that Morningstar's remains were somehow fused with the azoth. But how did they get it to stick? It should have been reduced to prima materia for the azoth to have  such a reaction... I fear finding an answer would force me to go far beyond mere chemistry into the realm of physics, which is not my area of expertise. Some energy, some radiation... Some Other. Consistent transmutation of azoth... Anyone capable of that can grasp godhood. 

But more importantly, my toxin can be perfected, if I could just discover the secret. Lead into gold, steel into flesh, blood into bile... Serenity into fear. I might even be able to introduce terror to places where it could not previously be found. Kelevra is incapable of feeling emotions, or he claims... But if I discover this secret, I could change that. Introduce a strain of my toxin that bond with him, and introduce fear into the structure that is his mind. And if I could do that to even him, imagine what I could do to actual humans. I am close, I am so very close... 

I suppose, when I discover the secret, I should also attempt its use on the zilvra found within that accursed city. If it can alter the zilvra in a similar matter to the azoth, there is likely no limit to what kind of foreign azoth-equivalent it can affect. Thus potentially ridding us of the KnitWolf issue...

I wonder if the Creature itself possesses some extra-universal azoth equivalent that provides it with form... Given its reaction to the Quiet... If the process could affect zilvra, it might even be able to affect the Creature, giving me mastery over the gods themselves... But that strikes me as rather a long shot. It is perhaps best to aim low, for now. 

-S

Malleable Mind

I would like to preface this, by stating that I feel this blogging business is an utter waste of time and effort. Nevertheless, I am not foolish enough to disobey one of Morningstar's orders.

You know one of my names, and I see little reason to give any sort of proper introduction to myself.

It has been quite the busy few weeks. Morningstar's condition was deteriorating for a while, and though neither he nor we were entirely certain as to what caused it, the answer revealed itself to be obvious in hindsight.

I think of myself as a man of science and rational thought. I have many fields of interest, but all serve a singular purpose; exploration of the human mind and its myriad possibilities. In my years of study, nothing has proven more beneficial to my cause, than the miraculous discovery and identification of what we are referring to as "azoth." Contrary to the belief of those less educated about such things, it is not a rare substance, nor is it the product of the creature, The Slender Man, and his associates. It can be found everywhere, quite literally, but it only reveals itself through the unraveling of conventional reality that occurs via exposure to the creature.

Morningstar's unique nature, as not entirely unraveled, yet still in control, has provided many unique opportunities for my research. The chemicals, cells and the electric impulses that we call a mind are not present within him, yet their potential is. And for some reason, that potential remains dominant within him, despite that being both chemically and biologically unlikely. This implies, to me, the existence of another key component of a mind. A soul, I suppose it might be. If I am correct, this soul is likely the only reason Morningstar retains his sense of self, his personality, no matter what, or who, he consumes and adds to his biomass. After all, why has his personality not changed after devouring so many other people, each of whom possess minds of their own. Something had to be ensuring that Morningstar's mind remained in control.

His confrontation with Kelevra resulted in a change for that status quo. The question was why. The answer was found in what kind of changes. Morningstar was clearly incapable of noticing the manner of the changes, I had my suspicions, as I am sure some of you did as well. His deteriorating appearance was what finally confirmed my suspicions. After all, the appearance of Morningstar is simply an avatar he uses to cling to that old life of his. It is amusing, really. Horrible as his life seemingly was, its events are all that keep him going. His delusional outlook on humanity, and the fear that gnaws at him in every quiet moment. Thus, he maintains his appearance as it was before he died, even going so far as to use the same clothing he so often wore, when he could look like anything his imagination could conjure.

That avatar of Luke Schiffer began to change, over the past few weeks, adopting features from a different source. They were not difficult to identify. And so, I have successfully performed a procedure unlike any other, in all of mankind's history. I have successfully extracted a mind, memories, fear, a personality even, within a syringe.

Azoth truly is a miracle.

Morningstar will survive, of course. It was likely an unpleasant experience for him, but such is the curse of immortality, I suppose. I do not know when his mind will fully reform, however. It has lost quite a bit of mass and structure, as a consequence of the surgery. I am a chemist, not a surgeon, after all. Oh but I do look forward to tearing what I have discovered apart, and examining every priceless detail.

And once I am done... Well. Then we will see what would happen if I injected this substance into another living human being. I think Morningstar would be delighted at my choice of ideal test subjects.

As for this little blog, I will be tending to it for the duration of Morningstar's recovery, and continuing our primary mission at the University. I never much cared for the place...

Ah, yes. When you awaken and read over this, Morningstar, I want to reiterate here what I will doubtlessly tell you once you first awaken. Be more careful with what you try to eat.

-S

Migraine

Ever had you HEAD ripped open?

I have. A few times now. Funny old world we live in, isn't it? So AFTER my last post and little conversation with Kibbles and Bits, some of my team took notice that I... Wasn't really feeling myself. I noticed it too, after I made some comments that I... Regret? I should regret them, I know that much. Something is much screwier with my chemistry than I had initially thought.

Thought, being the main problem. Shit is like 2011 all over again... Can't trust my own fucking THOUGHTS.

Spent some time talking to our on-call Psychologist. Doctor KASE is playing fucking COY with what he thinks is fucking happening to me. I don't like being TOYED WITH. I do the toying around these parts...

And he didn't exactly give me any real solution to the problem either. He just kept asking these inane fucking questions about my memory. Which is fine, by the way.

Apparently he wants to take a "wait and see" approach to this. He fucking thinks this shit is going to change I guess... I am also not allowed to go take my FRUSTRATION out on the garbage we keep downstairs. Which is fucking linked to the personality changes I am experiencing, so I guess that... Makes sense. Emotions are... Imbalanced as shit. Sometimes I am pissed for no real reason, other times I feel like the whole goddamn UNIVERSE is trying to swallow me up, lonely just LONELY and occasionally I just don't fucking feel anything at all. But no matter how my emotions are running, one thing. ONE FUCKING THING is always the same... I don't feel right. At all. I keep shifting parts of myself... Which shouldn't be happening, because keeping myself like I was before all this, is the best way to keep me stable. I hate this.

Gleeman told me I should probably try focusing on our work. It isn't really helping, but we did manage to track our primary target to an interesting location. Couple of years back, when things around here were dying out. All the Runners getting too smart to blog about their misery... I found a new one. Some idiot college kid blogging about this shit. But that College had some weird stuff going on, and the guy in charge was a creepy fuck who wasn't one of us, and evidently wasn't a Runner either. Some kind of weird cult thing was going on there, with this weirdo, Thomas Corvin, in charge. Spinner knows more, because. Well. He was there for this entire ordeal. It is how I first made contact with the guy...

So our target, Loreid, fucked off from Europe and made a beeline to this particular College. So we assume, he has something to do with that Cult. Which is good information to have, once I am... You know. Capable of trusting myself out in the field again...

Ugh.

I'm at least glad to see Kelly is suffering at least as much as I am. Next time, I'm just going to rip him apart until there is nothing left... Can't be bothered going through this shit after this...

Headache

Overestimated myself, I think...

I see Kelly didn't get the same treatment I did from whoever that was. Let me tell you... I don't appreciate the interference. But I guess it doesn't really matter. I can't even bring myself to be all that upset.

His post sums up our scuffle pretty well, though he definitely downplayed the ass kicking he was getting. I was SO close to killing him, and that parasite... I should have tried focusing on snuffing out Fortissimo's life first, you know? That would have broken Kelly, if there is anything left to break. Really bring out the animal in him, before the bitter bitter end. Never killed a dead man before, you know.

And probably I should have killed Lord Vader, myself, for the hell of it. Fucker had a VERY hard time concealing his contempt for me, and the things I can do. Probably rooted in jealousy, you know. You think you're so very devout, and suddenly you see someone who is literally closer to God in every way. Must be quite the blow to his ego. Hopefully Kelly burned down the whole fucking building, and all those idiots in it. Put them all out of our misery. Heheheh.

I REALLY FUCKING HATE THIS SHIT, YOU KNOW? I've been feeling weird since the fight, and I can't put my finger on what the hell is actually wrong. Spinner and Gleeman have been talking about me all week. Whispering. I don't really care... They're as insignificant as everything else on this godforsaken hellhole of a world. Maybe I should just kill them both right now. I guess I was planning on saving them for near the end, with everyone else who was useful to me. All of them need to die for what they are, what they've done. I hate them. You know? I really hate them all.

They REALLY shouldn't talk about someone behind THEIR BACK. IT'S RUDE. And I have MURDERED people for less. TORTURED EVEN.

Just like those IDIOTS downstairs. Maybe eating THEM will make me feel better. It's like... Like I don't feel comfortable in my own SKIN right now. I DON'T EVEN HAVE SKIN ANYMORE... You know, maybe it was something Spooky McGhostbitch did to me, during the teleport. Messed with my control somehow, keeping me on EDGE. Need to figure out what the hell she was... How to kill it. REALLY deserves it for messing with my head. I hate not being in control, being MANIPULATED like this. And for what? Something that won't pan out, I am sure. Not in the long run. Nothing, NOTHING works out in the long run. Especially since, sooner or later, I will finally put a fucking end to this entire galactic shitstain of a species.

Right. I... Probably should mention my game plan going forward. Opportunity to kill Kelly seems to be fucking lost. I could track his ass down again, sure, but... Who's to say we won't get INTERRUPTED AGAIN... That leaves the Loreid situation and the Wolf Pack. Yeah... OH. Right. When I got back to the office, Jimmy wallowing in his own filth or whatever it is he does when I am away for long periods of time. A letter was delivered though, addressed to ME, and with it was a fucking DOLLY. Knitted. Said Dolly, was of ME.

The letter itself had a picture of GUESS FUCKING WHO holding said dolly, and read THUSLY.

"Dearest Scratch,

I hope this package reaches you safely.

Please accept his little gift and allow me to formally extend an invitation to dinner.

I do hope you will join us, my little lost sibling. I am an excellent cook and I suspect it has been a while since your last decent meal.

So lets share a meal before we try to kill each other, like civilized people.

Sincerely,

KnitWolf"

Well, goodness, gracious me. With such a polite invitation, how could I refuse? Name a date, Knitty, and I promise I'll be right over. Gonna request it be AFTER I get over this SHIT that whatsherfuck did to me. Wouldn't want you to catch this shit if it happens to be contagious. Really spoil all the after dinner fun, and we certainly can't have THAT, now can we? Really been looking forward to meeting you and your... Family.

SO, while I wait. That leaves this Loreid shit. Its been a while since the initial... God that shit is boring. Dull, dull, dull. He stole a FUCKING ROCK from a bigger CRUMBLING PILE of rocks. He won't succeed, and he can't even READ it, so who the fuck cares. I don't see Father caring. Fuck it. They can take care of it themselves. If they find him, good, sure. Let me know. I'll go kill his ass and whoever he is working with. But I have better things to do than going on meaningless hunts.

Or... Fuck. Fuck it. Maybe I'll feel like it when I get over this... StuckintheAlpsitis.

The Alps

So. A thing happened. A weird thing. I was in Russia.

THEN I WAS IN THE FUCKING ALPS. IN A TREE.

Well, I guess Lord VADER is dead, assuming the same shit didn't happen to Kelly, the MOTHERFUCKER. If anyone from Dimir's little group is left ALIVE, do let me know will you? IN ENGLISH PLEASE.

FUCKING SPOOKY BITCH. ASK PERMISSION BEFORE YOU TELEPORT SOMEONE, ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY ARE BUSY KILLING A FUCKER.

If someone wants to tell me why some RANDOM PALE BITCH showed up like a GODDAMN GHOST, TOUCHED ME WHILE I WAS ABOUT TO FINISH THAT ASSHOLE OFF, AND THEN I ENDED UP IN THE ALPS. And there was FUCK ALL I could do to stop it? How does that EVEN WORK?

I'M PISSED, AND ANGRY AND MY HEAD FEELS FULL OF FUCK. GOD FUCKING DAMMIT HE PROBABLY DIDN'T DIE, DID HE. AGH. He REALLY needs to die. I took a look in that WARPED little head of his, and it WASN'T PRETTY. If someone OTHER THAN ME could get on PUTTING HIM DOWN, that would be GREAT.

FUCKING FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. You KNOW, I was thinking about posting a report about what happened, but FUCK IT. I feel like SHIT. No dealing with it right now. I'll do it LATER.

Happy Birthday to Me

I'm... What. 26 now? I mean I did DIE... So does that, like... Start the counting process all over again? Can we get a ruling on that? Am I actually a 5 year old now?

Huh. That would also make my new Birthday in January. Rebirthday?

I have this fucking debate for the past 5 years and I STILL can't make up my mind about it. This IS the first year I've spent my original birthday outside of the United States though. Would try to get the locals to sing me a song, but most of them don't know English. Which complicates matters. Also they hate me, though that isn't new when it comes to Birthdays. But it is GOOD. Best present I could ask for, really, not that I particularly GET why they hated me so INSTANTLY. Didn't even have to try, to piss them off. Heheheh. Whatever.

Tried out a thing, though, to celebrate. Made a Birthday cake, and laced the icing, and Candles, with NITRO. AND BEFORE YOU SAY ANYTHING. I am a SHITTY cook. SHIT. It wouldn't have been a good cake anyway, so this isn't a waste. We did have this guy though. Not a Runner, but we had him for leverage with someone, for some stupid reason. Organization politics, blah-blah-blah, boring. Name is Sivakov or Sivokov or something. I dunno, I don't care. Point is, he outlived his usefulness to us, so I made him a deal. We would let him go, if he did one, simple, little thing.

Heheheheh.

So. I've never actually USED Nitroglycerin like this before. I had NO idea how much would be enough. Turns out... I low-balled it a bit. He lit the candle, and BOOM. Explosion. It was GREAT, he went FLYING...

But he didn't die. Fucked up his face, and most of his body, though. So that was a bit disappointing.

Still. Man of my word. He was FREE to go. And go he WENT. To a Hospital, I think, where he will hopefully die after a long, painful, process of trying to save his worthless, pathetic, life. Or he'll be left a scarred, hopefully crippled, wreck of a human being for the remainder of his sad, sad, days.

You know. I suddenly feel a lot better now.

Lot of work ahead of me. Meeting with people to discuss THINGS. A week, and we've been unable to really pick up the trail for Loreid, but we DO know he is clearly working with YET ANOTHER FUCKING TRAITOR PROXY. We don't know WHO. Why don't know why. But SOMEONE who knows both our passwords and OPERATING PROCEDURES, has gone to GREAT LENGTHS to delete most of the shit we know about Loreid. AND BURNED THE HARD COPIES FOR GOOD MEASURE. YES they had security cameras. No. The footage was not there to be recovered. Fucking traitor FUCKS.

Gonna make an example out of this one... Fuck them up REAL good and taxidermy what is left. Send it around to other offices... Remind people about the benefits of fucking LOYALTY. A commodity oh so FUCKING RARE these days. Ugh.

AND NOW I'M IN A BAD MOOD AGAIN. FUCK. Fuck it. 

Europe

What a shitshow.

So, we arrived in Europe a few days ago. Met with the local filth and finally found someone who could translate this fucking moon-speak. And we were off to where Playwright was killed, and where we lost our little trinket. An old Castle, or what was left of it, off in the woods in North Poland. I don't know the full history of the place. It got ruined sometime in the 1800s, and we have been using it ever since for matters I also can't talk about. Castle's last master, before us, was some Prussian guy who was a member of the Order of the Black Eagle. He was also an alchemist, occultist and very much aware of the world's many, many, secrets.

But he wasn't one of us, so... His knowledge didn't exactly bring him a happy fate. Heheheh.

While the above-ground portions of the castle were pretty much just ruins, a lot of the subterranean infrastructure is still pretty sturdy. Apparently our people have been keeping the non-collapsed portions in pretty decent shape for the past 200 years. Neat little museum, all in all. Even has a legitimate dungeon and torture chamber. I respect that. And there were a few little antique instruments in there I wouldn't have minded playing with... But I admit. The modern setup I have back home is much more effective, in general.

Though there is something... Special about the idea of torturing a person down in a darkness that has seen so MANY beautiful tragedies over the centuries. The history lends a feeling I just can't imitate back home, even down in the Catacombs. I could make the Catacombs more... Crumbly and archaic seeming... But there is just something about the feel of the Castle. Its indescribable. The suffering of ages infused into the very darkness of the halls. Drinking that shit in was INTOXICATING.

My BELOVED Non-Traitorous brethren didn't seem to share my opinion of the place though. They don't like being in the underground. Heheheh. They were so fucking on edge the whole time. Like they expected a monster to jump out of the dark and tear their throats out, or something. And I don't know why. I mean. I was right beside them the whole time. Heheh. Ah... But apparently the lack of anyone brave enough to keep an eye on the underground gave Mr. Loreid his window of opportunity to sneak in. Apparently Playwright followed, but didn't call for enough backup.

I'll give Loreid this much. He did a HELL of a job killing Playwright. They showed me the bodies, and MAN were they not in good shape. Playwright was basically salami by the end. Which, to be frank, makes me think Mr. Loreid is not working all by his lonesome. His file speaks of formerly timid anthropologist. His repeated dealings with Playwright and others have apparently hardened him a good bit... But this? This doesn't seem quite right.

In any event, after dealing with Playwright, Loreid grabbed the I-know-what and fucked off. And fortunately, or SO I THOUGHT, the Euro-boys had picked up the trail. Turns out, he found one of OUR safehouses in the area. An old Cabin. Good for privacy, be it for recuperation without fear of Runners hunting us down, or for fun times with captured targets. Apparently no one had actually used it, or CHECKED ON IT, for a few months.

Well... We didn't waste any time heading up there and kicking the door in.

I was hasty, in hindsight, and got a face full of FUCKING FIRE for my troubles. And Loreid WASN'T EVEN THERE. He just rigged the place with a BOMB, for when the door was kicked open. NO CASUALTIES except for my cheerful demeanor for the rest of the day... And all the information in the building that MIGHT have been helpful, went up in FLAME. 

This brings up a question. Where the HELL did he get a bomb from? What the HELL is with Europe Division? I thought AMERICA was supposed to be the gun crazy place, you know? But even the LEAST experienced of the family here are ARMED TO THE TEETH, WITH MILITARY SHIT. And the Runners are apparently MUCH THE SAME half the time...

RIGHT. Well... We have NO IDEA where Loreid went, but we'll find the trail sooner or later. Gonna have to TALK to people, be social, you know... Figure out how the hell he found that safehouse... Spinner can take care of that. Should have probably brought Mumbles too... Might have been helpful for what is coming, but... Eh. Whatever. I am more than enough. More than more than enough, really, but they tell me humility is a virtue or something...

Well. Best I get prepared for the comments from the peanut gallery. Miss you Doctor Spookypants. You only commented once but you are now my favorite by default. You and your stylish, STYLISH, attire... Lets see... Kelly, you can go fuck yourself. And if not, hopefully the Russian guy can go do it for you.

Alpha Bitch and your little puppies. Are you enjoying your freedom? Lets hope so. It won't last. Related question, what is your favorite feature on Kristy? Physically speaking, we all know there is NOT much to like about her personality. Well... I take that back. You had to like the personality, considering you spent all that time constructing it. Building your own, not-so-sweet, little dolly. How precious. Gotta say, brainwashing her like that and then having a relationship. Old Man Banks would be so proud. Though... I doubt the you that started this little journey of yours would quite agree. Heheheh.

Lastly... Sanna. Speaking of dollies, I really would have expected you to have been patched up just a BIT better by now. Most people can recover a bit from trauma, but I guess you are just too damn weak. Curious question. Been wondering. Have you ever gone back to that place? You know the one. Where you, me, and those poor innocent people you had killed got to know each other so well? Might be good therapy for you. Help you orient your mind a bit better. See where you actually stand now. Might even be some... Presents left there for you. Aren't I a thoughtful friend?

AND IT KEEPS PILING UP

HERE I AM. TRYING TO PLOT THE DEATHS OF (largely) A FRIGGING HORDE OF TRAITORS. A TASK THAT MIGHT PROVE REAL FUCKING CHALLENGING, AND NOW. NOW of ALL TIMES. They decide I am needed for a thing. One of the Runners that was smart enough never to go on the blogs, but not skilled enough to stay off of our radars, went and did a thing that merits my involvement.

I love the idiots who think that they can science their way out of becoming another one of Father's victims. No matter how far outside the box they believe they are thinking, it is never enough. They look forward, but never far enough backwards. To see how generations of humans, less bound to logic and established methods, tried to deal with the inescapable terror that haunted them even then. Of course, there are no easy or concrete solutions, no matter how far back you look. But there have been, I admit, some damn good ideas. Ideas best left buried.

But it seems now a fellow has come close to digging something up. Alexandre Loreid, formerly a professor of anthropology at some University from somewhere. I don't really give a shit, because he has been running for 13 years now, and apparently anyone I might be able to use from his past is already long dead. Loreid has even picked up his own obsessed Proxy nemesis. Because that shit ALWAYS works well for us, right? Said nemesis was a guy named “Playwright.” I know FUCK ALL about Playwright, but he is apparently DEAD NOW. Killed in a struggle with Loreid. After said struggle, Loreid apparently found something I am NOT allowed to really discuss on here, at the moment. And I have been ordered to see that it goes back to where it belongs.

By prying it from Loreid's cold, dead, severed and mutilated, hands.

Now, this may surprise you, but I have MANY QUESTIONS that have not been answered. The thing I am not allowed to talk about, is something I know fuck all about. I don't even know why this asshole taking it would necessitate someone like ME jumping in. I also don't know the specifics of Playwright's death, which feels like useful information to me. I don't know if Loreid is working solo, or in a group. What little information we have in the file, doesn't tell me much about him personally. Just that Playwright already used up the “Friends and Family” card.

Oh. And I don't know where the fucker actually is specifically. Just that it is Europe, which begs the question of why the European Proxies aren't handling this. Playwright died in North Poland, near the Baltic Sea. Which DOES NOT NARROW IT DOWN MUCH. So I am ASSUMING Loreid isn't sticking around where Playwright died. Did I mention I don't speak Polish? Or German? Or any language that isn't English or VERY dead.

This is gonna be an exercise in frustration...

But I suppose I had to go to Europe anyway. Needed to see a man about a Mummy. Think it could teach me a LOT of important facts about important things.

Jimmy can hold down the fort while I am gone. I think. My secretaries don't often do good without me, for some reason. Really need to learn some independence, instead of relying on me for all their food and water. HOPEFULLY fucking Jimmy won't be DEAD when I get back like the others. I will be SO disappointed. I might fire him. I employed him. I TOOK THAT BULLET. Better not be for nothing...

But don't think I've forgotten about the Canadian problem. Already have a few good plans to deal with that lot. Just a matter of implementing. And finding the time to do so... Heheheheh. Curious, can our Pack of Now-Wild Dogs figure out my strategies? Ask yourselves... What would you do in my position? Get CREATIVE. Know your weaknesses, both physically and mentally. Especially mentally.

It won't help.

Oh, I will probably also briefly stop by the the soggy, depressing, corpse of the British Empire. See if I can pick up Sanna's scent, for later. That might be fun.

On the Subject of Traitors

I GET IT. I really do. This is a hard, unpleasant life. And a lot of good Chosen, Proxies, have decided that they are on the wrong side of things. I WAS ONE OF THEM. For a brief, brief time. Nightscream did it. Reach did it. Both Redlights did it, though more Spencer than the other guy. Tensor did it, but Tensor was an idiot. And now... The Wolf Pack has gone rogue. But you know what REALLY SUCKS about that situation? It isn't their fucking fault. Its like... They've been kicked out of the Family. And why? Really, WHY? I know Father doesn't have to tell us ANYTHING, and he normally doesn't. We are his tools, to use and discard as he sees fit. But the Pack were REALLY good tools. And they just got their deadliest weapon back, at the cost of their least deadly. IT IS AN OPPORTUNITY. AGH. SO I JUST DON'T GET WHY THEY'VE BEEN KICKED OUT.

Frustrating. REALLY frustrating. Agh.

Fucking Jimmy had no answers. Idiot barely seemed to know what I was talking about. So FUCKING unprofessional. I shouldn't have to explain the fucking JOB, the LIFE and my fellow Chosen to MY OWN SECRETARY. Useless idiot. Should have caved his skull in with that waffle maker thing. I might if he complains about a headache when he wakes up. NOTHING HE IS EXPERIENCING IS WORSE THAN WHAT I HAVE TO GO THROUGH, WORKING WITH HIM EVERY DAY OF MY LIFE. That I am here, that is. Thinking of taking a trip to foreign soil. Meet my international brothers and sisters. See how their shit works. Or doesn't, more than likely. But maybe they at least HAVE SECRETARIES WORTH A DAMN.

Fuckers. AGH. Just why does this shit not make itself easy. It should be fucking easy. There is OUR SIDE and THE DEAD SIDE. Not everyone gets the choice, but no one should choose the DEAD SIDE. Stupid, fucking STUPID. Wasteful even. Why couldn't it be the USELESS ones. Or the ones like Banks. GAH. Should have fucking found that birdbrained fucker and stopped this shit from happening in the first place. Or properly performed the fucking ritual in his place. Playing with forces beyond your understanding is NEVER a smart thing to do... So fuck, maybe he didn't goddamn know what the hell he was really doing. Useless IDIOT. So why not punish HIM.

Whatever. Fuck it. There are consequences for leaving the family. I faced them, and so did all the others in the end. This time will be no different, but maybe, JUST maybe, if I get my way... I can at least ensure they will live to regret their actions. I mean. The broken one was broken into joining our family. Shouldn't be too hard to repeat the process, if I have to. Heheh. I have the tools. The other one hasn't been broken, but was always the more squeamish by all accounts. Ugh. What a waste. Fucking waste.

Didn't expect this when I started this new little diary blog. I mean, yeah. I knew there were a few people still active. Thought it might be fun to see their inane little comments on my true, REAL thoughts. Well. No more of that. Time to begin dealing with the last of the blogging crowd. Turn this into a real proper Gravestone for this sorry affair. Heheheheh.

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.