Friday, April 4, 2014

We Made It

We're just gonna... sit for the night. On the outskirts. Take our shot in the morning, once I stop having such a massive goddamn headache and all. Redfuck has proven to be a royal PRICK to keep the company of. I had been stupid enough to think some simple Duck Tape would be an easy solution to his wagging tongue... but I guess nothing that's simple with a Crafter. Shishkabobed or not.

It's those eyes.

Those fucking... BURNING... amber eyes.

The very same gaze... that burned holes into the soul of the person I love most. The one that Sam broke under. Again. And again. And again.

The Redfuck has been letting me see snippets of it.

I don't know how, but it's almost like he... tosses a memory of his own into my head. And then, with it now in my own, I'll turn my glare back and....that stare would be pinned on me from under his hood. That grin spreading... way too wide. Fucking delighted. The sick fuck was ENJOYING having so much to use on me. Lifetimes worth of torture. Or sometimes... he'd talk about it. Go over different things he did. Or that Sam had said. Or things he'd found while... digging around in Sam's mind. Secret things. Painful things.

Like the night our relationship nearly ended before it began.

The night that still hurt so bad, deep down, to the point of... its hackles standing up. Of true ANGER. When faced with the same kind of thing...

I cheated on Sam, back when we were dating.

And Redlight knew.

He knew about the fight. Only a few weeks into the relationship. It was new, and I wasn't used to.... commitments...

I went to a bar to cool off. Started talking to a red head there. Who turned out to be married. But that, oddly, seemed to be the point. Because their 'partner' was there too. Looking for a... "third wheel". Wanting to get wild. After a few rounds, I landed up leaving with them. Blew off some steam. I honestly didn't think anything of it. Just a night out. Wasn't planning on telling Sam though, of course. It would just overreact. It was just sex, after all. Didn't mean anything. After all, what it didn't know wouldn't hurt it, right?

Then I went home...

...And it wasn't until Sam looked at me that I realized just how badly I'd fucked up. Because... Sam knew. I don't know how, but Sam KNEW I'd been.... with someone else. Didn't know who or what or why of it, but... Sam knew. And the sheer PAIN and MISERY I saw in those eyes that were nearly silver...

It killed me.

And Redfuck knew all about it. Wouldn't fucking SHUT UP about it.

Every so often, he'd stop twisting my knife... in favor of twisting Fracture's. Apparently, he... got a bit of a flash-glance at Fracture's life while he was attempting to absorb his energy or soul or whatever the fuck he did. Because when he turns that fucking burning gaze onto Fracture... he's talking about some kid who came inside from playing in his sandbox one day to find his parents brutally murdered. A crime that led a ten year old Fracture to meeting Jack of All. To kneeling before the Slender Man, carving out a deal in blood to save him from the other monsters in the dark. He spoke of his cowardice. His "manipulation" of others to do the work he himself doesn't have the spine to. How Fracture gives the order 'Kill it.' Not kill him, or her, or them. Kill /IT/. As if referring them as an it makes them less human and some how makes giving the order easier. How all of his companions tend to wind up wanting to kill him... but, of course, that's only after they've used him for whatever desired purpose they had for him.

Kinda like how I was using him, in a way.

Redfuck just kept going. On and on and on. Pushing the same sore spots that I think ride on everyone from "That" side of the fight. Proxies. Cultists. Oathbreakers. Whatever. "Proxy Scum". "Monsters". "Inhuman". It's always the same words thrown around, but  they seem to carry just as much weight as they have for decades. It took a bit for the words to build but... Red dick was starting to get to Fracture. I noticed it. He just... got quiet. Jaw set and eyes averted. And quiet. Very very quiet.

And you know what?

I used to use those same words. Hunting all those fucks on the job. As an FBI Agent, we tracked and took down all kinds of "rabid dogs". Hell, David Banks was someone I chased for YEARS. Closest I goddamn got to him was a handful of minutes at a hotel. The hot water from the shower hadn't even fogged up the mirror yet. He must have jumped out the window just when I was driving in. SO close. But close isn't good enough. And it did piss me off. I did see it as a failure on my part. Cause I did see him as a "monster". Just knowing what he had done. And would continue doing. Having to STUDY it. Trying to find the pattern. Predict the next move. Somewhere along the line... you forget that he was a kid once...

I'm not making that mistake anymore.

It took Sam to become that "rabid dog" for me to really... GET it. And I do get it now. I do. These people. Those "at the end of their stories"... they're hurting just as much as everyone else. And I don't give a shit how "soft" that sounds. You see what I've seen and say otherwise. You see how they protect each other on the field. You hear how they speak to each other when they don't think anyone else is listening. You FEEL the misery in haunted eyes in a brief second peek behind their walls...

They're loyal.

It's a different kind of loyalty in a different kind of life with a different kind of rules... but they are loyal. And they do care. They're not monsters.

Not even... Redfuck.... is a monster. Spencer Fitzerald was born, just like everyone else. The who, what, when, where, why, are a mystery to me but... he was born. He was a kid. He believed in something Better once. But the world broke him. PEOPLE with their own stories tore him apart. Those people... the people that manipulated him and ultimately FAILED him... this mess is just... their legacy. This entire fucking BAG OF CRAP... is proof of the impact that we can have on each other's lives. Redlight is proof of how being a DICK is a contagious disease. Passed down from one generation to the next....

Links in a chain.

I... won't deny Spencer his humanity. Sam deserves to be avenged. And I will do what I have to do in order to stop this Hell before it gets any worse. But... what I do now. I'm not "doing" to a monster. I'm doing to a man. Just a man. With a story of his own. One I have no right to judge. Cause I wasn't there. I wasn't wearing his skin. I wasn't feeling his pain.

"Nightscream" was a Dove in this world before this Hell twisted it into a Raven with bloodied talons.

"Fracture" was so intelligent as a kid that they actually held him back in his education to keep him "normal".

"Morningstar" could play a violin with such passion you could FEEL it right down to your core.

"Joseph" proudly wore the flag on his uniform as a soldier. Fighting for his country and all of us.

David Banks... I've honestly never seen anyone fight so hard against the inevitable. To protect.

One has to wonder... what Spencer might have been. If he'd been given the chance.

I just... want it to be over already. I'm tired. Very tired.

The sooner we get this over with, the better it is for everyone.

Why the FUCK this had to fall on us, I haven't a damn clue.

But, at dawn, we make our move.

Wish us luck.


  1. I guess I can say that I wish you luck of the good kind.

  2. You take good care of Fracture. And...Try to make it quick for Spence, if you can.


    1. I did what I had to do. Am I proud of it? No. But it's... done.

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  4. Oh good, you are actually still alive.


    1. Jack, you really need to make your own account. This is starting to get ridiculous.

    2. Good, you're alive. The 'answering machine' was not cute, you ass.


    3. I'll have you know that the answering machine was very cute. He's gonna be inconsolable when I tell him you said that.

    4. The person, very cute. The stunt you pulled with it? Not so cute.


    5. Hardly what I would call a stunt. It was... well, just that, an answering machine.

    6. However entertaining the message you left was, I'd appreciate if you didn't leave it to some poor teenager to comment on my tits in your absence.


    7. Some has to, and who else to better appreciate those in my absence than a psychopathic self-righteous schtzo?

    8. Should I be worried you might be delegating more 'appreciation in the near future?'


  5. Star may have been good at the violin but I will alway remember him in terms of violence. No offence, respect for the dead and all... jesus christ tho.