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?
