tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91418759657813017232024-02-08T15:15:05.501-05:00Eyes of TomorrowSince we survived our Yesterdays.Nightscreamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241679908254552393noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9141875965781301723.post-87876635880133661612014-05-26T23:56:00.000-04:002014-05-26T23:56:15.407-04:00Pray With MeRedlight went down the same way he lived his life.<br />
<br />
The same way we ALL live our lives:<br />
<br />
<br />
Fighting.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Fracture and I took the bastard in bounds - sword still driven through - right into the heart of that Cult Town. Once again, I got to see the dimensions bleeding into each other. Once again, I watched the shadows move as Nightlanders followed our route. Once again... I had to remind myself to just get it done. Forget the details of it and just focus on the END of it all. The final play. The Plan. God fucking forgive if we steered away from the goddamn PLAN...<br />
<br />
I wasn't exactly feeling up to my best, what with having that sword first driven through ME. Fracture patched me up, but it wasn't exactly a papercut, you know? I was practically DRAGGING myself through the motions. Just to get it done. It didn't matter what happened after that, just so long as I got it DONE...<br />
<br />
And Redlight just kept talking.<br />
<br />
<br />
And talking.<br />
<br />
And talking.<br />
<br />
And really the only thing I wanted to do... was slit his damn throat. <br />
<br />
It would have been so much easier if I could have just... kept shit simple. None of this crap of "trying to fix crap before the world got turned to ash" just... vengeance. Redlight destroyed Sam. So I get to destroy him. That is as complicated as things SHOULD have got.<br />
<br />
But no.<br />
<br />
I had to try for the fucking impossible. Like the moron I am.<br />
<br />
<br />
We had a Plan.<br />
<br />
<br />
But Fracture... quite the soft tart, once you get to know him... he tried to spare me the worst of it. The one part that I never spent long EXPLAINING to him or you or anyone because I didn't even want to THINK of what I would have to do... and had done... in the past. The things that I'd willingly... taken on. To punish myself. For letting Morningstar and his group to continue as they were, unchallenged. As an Agent of the FBI, even an ex-one, I took an oath to stop the kind of people that did the things they were doing on a daily basis. The murders. The tortures. They always seemed to have... SOMEONE they were trying to get information from. And how the screams would ECHO down the halls...<br />
<br />
At the beginning, I ran from it like a coward. Held up in my room. Tried to ignore it.<br />
<br />
Eventually, I grew sick of my own spinelessness. <br />
<br />
When they had someone, I started standing out in the hall. Listening. To every single... reaction.... they got. Every scream. Plea. Curse. Insistence of ignorance or whatever. I heard it all. And it made me SICK to listen. The others barely looked at me, or bothered to question my presence... though, sometimes, Mumbles came and stood with me. Looking concerned. Scribbling notes on his dry erase board, to which I usually gave one or two word responses. And then would cringe, pressing my eyes shut, as another scream tore out. Clawing right down to my core. I could FEEL it, I could...<br />
<br />
But even that became not enough to torture myself with. Moving from out in the hall... to inside the same room. That change earned me some glares from the others. I guess they were expecting me to start... intervening at some point. Breaking up their little Sharp Object Party. Preaching good will and rightousness and all that crap.<br />
<br />
But the truth is that... I'd grown up around these same kinds of people. I knew the mindset, and I wasn't there to save any one of them. I knew I was the third wheel, the tag-along, so I had no right to stick my nose in where it didn't belong.... but... at the same time... the tortures got to me most of all. I'd hear them echoing in my head for DAYS after...<br />
<br />
Until there came the day that Cipher called for a volunteer to go "entertain" their latest "guest".<br />
<br />
I said I'd do it before anyone else even got a chance.<br />
<br />
To say the lot of them were stunned would be beyond an understatement. The only ones who didn't look confused... was Luke and Mumbles. Neither one had to think hard to figure out what my thought pattern was. I heard a few snide comments before Cipher took me aside. Telling me that I didn't have to go through with this. That I was punishing myself for no reason. That I was being a moron and should let everyone just... keep to their roles.<br />
<br />
I just said again... that I'd do it.<br />
<br />
Luke... asked if I had ever tortured anyone before.<br />
<br />
I just shrugged. Apart from beating the shit out of some assholes that deserved it, I couldn't say I had much experience.<br />
<br />
And that's how I ended up in a room prepared for splatter, with all manner of instruments at my disposal... standing over a young man strapped to a table. Bare down to his underwear. Blindfolded, and gagged. Breathing short and trembling. Shivering.<br />
<br />
Opposite of me, stood Morningstar. <br />
<br />
Instructing.<br />
<br />
Even taking my hands and pushing my fingers into certain points. Letting me FEEL what he was talking about. Saying that, if I was going to do it, I might as well learn to do it like the Best. Like him. Like Nightscream. Like David.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
So.... when it came time that Redlight needed some "convincing".... I knew exactly what to do. How. When. It was all there. Safely stashed in my memory...<br />
<br />
But I really didn't WANT to go through with it. I didn't WANT blood on my hands like that again. Working on the flesh.<br />
<br />
Star said my hands had "natural talent" for it.<br />
<br />
<br />
My father... would be proud of that.<br />
<br />
<br />
But I didn't even have to TELL Fracture how much I didn't want to DO that again. He just... knew. Or could see it. Somewhere on my expression. Or in my tone. He knew, one way or another. And he purposed a theory. Something we could try FIRST, before going to the torture aspect....<br />
<br />
He had noticed how... disjointed Redlight's thinking could be. How mixed his moods were. All set on a whim, as quickly changed as the wind. Sometimes... though very very rarely... he almost sounded like... a little kid. Scared of the dark. Muttering about broken birds. He almost... ALMOST... sounded like... Spencer. That deep down beneath that insanity of Red, there still existed the boy who was toyed with until he broke. Still afraid of the dark. While painting the world Red. The change was... barely a blip in the psyche. Seemed to last all of a second or two. Just long enough to notice. Not really long enough to react.<br />
<br />
Fracture theorized that if there was ENOUGH of "Spencer" left in Redlight's mind, that we just might be able to PULL that the surface, if we encourage it the right way. That maybe we could get that side, that blip, to take over just long enough... to convince him to handle his own fate. To atone for his own sins. All the crimes he has committed... and for the part he played in leading the world to the brink of an apocalypse. If we could just... talk to him...<br />
<br />
<br />
and we tried.<br />
<br />
We really did try.<br />
<br />
We called him only by the name "Spencer". We talked about events in the blog he'd written. Focusing on what we knew. Asking questions OF Redlight from that point. Mentioning all the right names. Even the names of people that he'd been associated with for a long time, like Elaine, or even just for a quick pit-stop, like Mitch. We brought up Writer. The games he used to play. All the ways Spencer had TRIED so hard to be GOOD, despite everything weighing him down.<br />
<br />
We honestly tried to make it work.<br />
<br />
We worked on it all the days it took to GET Redlight to the Cult Town. And even that last morning. We just kept calling him Spencer. Kept trying to stir up the memories. The faces. The FEELINGS, if there were any there at all...<br />
<br />
But it didn't. Redlight was only Redlight. And we'd run out of options. Or, rather, I had. It was my job anyway. My "Quest" to finish. Even if I could have rightfully passed the duty on to someone else... who else would have done what I had to do? Fracture didn't handle that sort of thing. From the looks of him at the time, he was barely handling being in the same vicinity of it all...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I bet no one would have thought someone like me could make Redfuck so much as FLINCH.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
But I was trained by The Best. Who had been trained by The Best. And I got pointers from another Best through emails, to top it all off.<br />
<br />
So yeah. He flinched.<br />
<br />
He nearly bit through his tongue. Snarling. Cursing. Promising me Hell, and beyond. Grinning through blood. Laughing. Yet hissing. Sealing up the pain. His psyches swapping all across and inside out. Mixing around. Twisting from Mastermind to Rabid Dog and back again. It wasn't... just my hands that would covered in blood though. It was my arms. My front. Splattered across my face and beading down my neck...<br />
<br />
I kept telling him the same thing. Over and over and over again.<br />
<br />
Sacrifice himself.<br />
<br />
Push his power into The Veil.<br />
<br />
Then all the pain would stop. EVERYTHING that is happening WOULD STOP if he just cooperated. If he just...<br />
<br />
<br />
And that's when... something changed. <br />
<br />
Redlight... changed.<br />
<br />
<br />
Fracture warned me.<br />
<br />
He WARNED me to be careful. To keep back. That it might be a trick. That he had a BAD feeling...<br />
<br />
and so did I.<br />
<br />
<br />
Even as I crouched down in front his slunched, bloodied form with my own hands covered in his own colour.... I felt it in my gut. That feeling. That old feeling I ALWAYS listened to because it ALWAYS had kept my fucking ass alive....<br />
<br />
But I didn't listen to it. Or Fracture.<br />
<br />
Because I wanted to be able... to tell the lot of you that he found himself at the end. That Spencer came back. That he wasn't DEAD, wasn't LOST, wasn't COMPLETELY overcome by rage and lust for power. I wanted to be able to have PROOF.... that even the WORST of people can change. Can do the RIGHT FUCKING THING if they only damn well CHOOSE to...<br />
<br />
<br />
But I can't say that.<br />
<br />
<br />
Because... all I saw was a blur. A hand. Free from bonds. Whipping out. Snapping. Lashing. CRUSHING my throat in an iron grasp as that bloodied grin tore WIDE and deranged and MAD and I couldn't breath before... I hit... a wall of Red. A WAVE of Red. Consuming. Suffocating. DROWNING...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
And I twisted. And gagged. As water filled my lungs. Thrashing for the surface... and breaking it. Gasping for air under a hot summer sun. My limbs instinctively treading me in place as I whipped around. And around. And around. Oh, I recognized it. I knew it. So well that it hurt. The lake that stretched off into the distance, fed from a river to the North. An oasis of fresh, clean water, encased in a forest on all sides. And, near the shore... a small log cottage sat nestled as the centerpiece of a cozy campsite. A dock nearby, tied up with a single red boat... and a beat-up old car in the driveway.<br />
<br />
It was Sam's parents' cottage. A modest place, but nice.<br />
<br />
It felt... so wonderful... to see it again. To see something so familiar...<br />
<br />
And then I got to see something very familiar. Some...ONE... very familiar. Waving from the shoreline. A call. Asking if I was alright. Even from the distance I was, I could see it. The mess of auburn hair nearly looking RED in the flare of the sunlight. That body, in that swimsuit just right. Just perfect. Too perfect for someone like me. But Jesus CHRIST you were deluding yourself if you thought for one SECOND I would give it up without a fight. And it would be one HELL of a fight.<br />
<br />
My Sam.<br />
<br />
I swam in. And those near-silver eyes met me there. Concern. Worry. Love. All reflected back to me. Open. Honest. Kind. Compassionate. Sam's hand touching the side of my face, my forehead, and pulling back with a hand traced with blood RED. Asking what I hit my head on out there. Asking if there are jagged rocks. Expressing worry about the need of stitches. And, like Sam always did, flipping ahead. Announcing that, when our baby was born (we'd just found out, at that time), that we'd have to move away any sharp rocks under the water. Which, of course, is rather ridiculous. But cute. Very, very cute.<br />
<br />
A kiss was placed to my "battle wound" from my watery adventure before I earned That Smile.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Keep Smiling!</i><br />
<br />
<br />
And something COLD gripped me inside. Sam only asking what was wrong.... even as the Red boat on the shore rocked in the waves. Even as <i> </i>the sunlight FLARED against Sam's hair. Even as I felt the blood flowing down my face, from my EYE, in my EYE... but I'd.... lost that I? Didn't I? But it stung now, like a blade driven down deep inside. Those eyes of silver TWISTING a BURNING amber as that GRIN tore out and wide....<br />
<br />
And the water came rushing back in. Cast in. THROWN into its depths and driven straight to the bottom of the COLD and BLACK as RED blood filled the water, filled my lungs, filled EVERYTHING as I choked and gagged. <br />
<br />
and Sam's hands wrapped around my throat. Over me. ON me. Pinned me down, all the weight CRUSHING DOWN. My back pressed against the rocks, sharp and jagged and cutting as they sliced my skin. Staining the water with even more RED as those silver eyes were overtaken by burning, scorching, BLAZING amber. Wild. Enraged. That snarl tearing back, showing far too many teeth as auburn hair was replaced with a Red Hood that fed down to cargo pants and bandages around long fingers of bone and scraps of flesh. That vicious glare nearly seeming to glow(?) in the dark waters around me as I struggled and fought and flailed to free myself.<br />
<br />
Only for the reeds to catch my arms. Snaring me. DROWNING me.<br />
<br />
<br />
And then it was the Hospital. The Asylum. The reeds morphing into straps. Pinning down to a cold bed even... even as I fought against them. Against IT. Against this nest, this HIVE, of things already far gone past and I KNEW they were past more and more with every passing second. Even as more straps tightened to the point of agony around my thrashing - convulsing - body, even as white-coated doctors filled the room with needles and cold, cold hands... Redlight couldn't hide himself. He was desperate. He was weakened. He was STRUGGLING just as much as I was.... and he kept bleeding through each picture. The doctors all staring with burning amber eyes. Red blood COATING the white, white walls and reflections that all mirrored wrong, distorted images of... not me. Not my history. But his.<br />
<br />
If I watched... the reflections... I saw flashes of HIS past. HIS struggles. HIS pain. HIS misery.<br />
<br />
I saw the Camp that Spencer grew up in. <br />
<br />
I saw Spencer save a baby bird, keeping it a secret in a shoebox under his bed.<br />
<br />
I saw that "Writer" asshole. Crushing a young Spencer's hands around that same bird.<br />
<br />
I saw faces. Hundreds and hundreds of faces. Oceans of blood. And death. So much fucking death...<br />
<br />
<br />
Then the straps were reeds again. Then back to straps. Then the iron hands of my father. Then back to straps...<br />
<br />
Everytthing twisting. contorting. pulling and drawing back on itself. SNAPPING tight, then spiraling... every second... feeling like a knife was being driven into my skull. White hot and BURNING. blazing my vision WHITE against the bleeding Red...<br />
<br />
<br />
but at the edge of it all... I heard it. A whisper. An echo of a voice. An impression of something... just out of earshot. So damn faint I could barely....<br />
<br />
but it... gave me a way. a direction. a reason. I FOUGHT for it. TOWARDS it. Closer and closer through the agony that justt SPLIT into my skull WORSE and WORSE. Pushing, thrashing, SCREAMING...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
until I woke up choking on blood. <br />
<br />
gagging on it<br />
<br />
coughing it up until it stained the ground under me and ran thick down my chin. Fracture's grip steadying me. Firm. Keeping me from collapsing completely over myself as I coughed and hacked and shook. Sweat pouring off me in torrents. Everything in me... through me... that WAS me... screaming out. Even as I myself found I had no voice left at all. Held in my throat by my own pain. And I... could feel... him. Tugging. Clawing. WRENCHING me back out of the driver's seat. Fighting so hard...<br />
<br />
<br />
We have all fought... so very hard...<br />
<br />
<br />
The relief in Fracture's tone was pressed aside by the urgency of what followed. Telling me it was time. That I had to do it now. Before I lost it again. Before he dragged me back. While I still had the strength to, I had to GET IT OVER WITH... and told me what to do. What to feel. What to try to REACH within myself, now that he and I were one.... I could make the choice for Redlight. I could force it. Force him. As long as I dug my footing in. As long as I kept forward... it was up to me.<br />
<br />
It took... what felt like eternity for me to fight past the clawing... and find what Fracture was talking about. That feeling. Like finding the switch in my head. A switch that didn't belong to me... and... I screamed. I SCREAMED so fucking loud I thought I'd rip my vocal cords to shreds... when I tried to take it. Switch it. SHIFT it. The agony EXPLODING through every muscle, every nerve, every BONE, every CELL of me. I can't even... begin to fully explain what it felt like. I'd never felt anything even close. But, somehow... through the agony... and screaming... and burning ENRAGED amber...<br />
<br />
I found it.<br />
<br />
I SHIFTED it.<br />
<br />
And I felt it.<br />
<br />
I felt the pull begin.<br />
<br />
Like taking the plug from a drain. Starting slow, but quickly speeding up. I felt... Redlight's clawing turn into clinging. Holding. Scrambling...<br />
<br />
The pain... was beyond screaming at that point.<br />
<br />
<br />
I had no voice.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
No movement.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
No thought.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
No.... existence.<br />
<br />
<br />
I just... Wasn't.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
For the longest while... I just... Wasn't.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
But... somewhere... between Knowing and Not... Eternity and Nowhere... things... slowly... came clear.<br />
<br />
Somewhere in there.... I started to think again.<br />
<br />
And I thought... that I was dying.<br />
<br />
<br />
I knew I was alone.<br />
<br />
Fracture had left. <br />
<br />
For fear of being stuck in a Realm not his own.<br />
<br />
And he had taken Konaa's sword with him. <br />
<br />
<br />
I could feel the blood... from my eyes, my nose, my mouth, my ears... I could feel the stab wound Red had given me... bleed freely again. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I knew I wouldn't last. I knew it. But I was... at peace with that. I was ready. Least, I thought I was....<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
it burned<br />
<br />
worse than anything<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
but eventually... I was taken away from it. Eventually... everything that was white, and red, and hot, and blinding, burning, blistering.... was lost...<br />
<br />
<br />
in an endless black.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
that didn't end<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
until the sharp pain of a too-tight bandage snapped me awake. And mother FUCK did it have me cursing. Wincing. TWISTING on the bed...<br />
<br />
And finding myself staring right at non other than David Banks.<br />
<br />
<br />
The fuck gets around, it would seem. I guess he didn't like the tone I'd left with, and wasn't ready to let me just... exit stage right. He literally dropped what he'd been doing.... all to haul my unconscious ass from that Cult Town. I'd apparently been passed out for a good week before a changing of bandages brought me around again. I was... in such a wreck. The guilt of sealing Sam and Luke into that forsaken realm of the Fears... it crippled me. I really didn't want to talk about it, and I didn't even fucking NOTICE for the longest time... how seeing that guilt eating me tore into David. I didn't even THINK of that. Making him relive that nightmare again. Nearly giving him a fucking heartattack... when I wandered out of my room to get something to eat, and ran into Em. Landing up talking to her, since David was off on errands. Fixing her a snack, while I did mine. Telling her how I knew her "Grandpa" from a LONG time ago. That it used to be my job to catch him.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"You must have been really bad at your job."</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"...Heh. Yeah. Yeah, I guess I was."</i><br />
<br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b> </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b> </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I was trying to show her some chords on David's guitar when I heard the crash. Something heavy hitting the floor down the hall. And running. Panicked. Sprinting through the house. Of course, I went to go see what the hell was going on... only to come face to face with the ex-assassin. In a panic. Looking for me. Having been... expecting to find a corpse somewhere, since I hadn't been in my room. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The poor bastard... looked like a complete wreck. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I really... RECOGNIZED... what kind of hell my own actions had been putting him through.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
What level of thinking I had adapted.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Suicide.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
He had considered what I'd done at the Cult Town... to be a suicide attempt.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And, I guess when he saw the guilt I was holding... he expected history to repeat. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We had a long talk then.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I wasn't going to be following Sam's footsteps. Not like that. I wasn't about to INSULT the love of my life like that. I hadn't... considered... the Cult Town to be anything like that. I just... didn't expect to get out alive. And I'd been okay with that. I'd been ready. I was tired, and I was ready...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
But, since I'd survived... I was going to live.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I wasn't sure what I was going to do...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
But I was going to live to do it.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I stayed with David for a little while... but quickly decided I had to take my own route. After all, when someone starts finding random body parts lying on the front doorstep, that tends to be a good indicator that you are involved in some form of shit or another and do not NEED a tag-along. David insisted I could stay, but I insisted otherwise. And made him promise to find me... when things calmed down for him. That I owed him a drink or ten.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
He hugged me.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Which was, quite honestly, one of THE most awkward moments of my life.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And we parted ways.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Since then... I've been traveling. Thinking. Trying to put that day into words. Trying to finish this post. To let all of you know what really happened. Why we are still here. How.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
It's been... a long process to go through.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
after all... I'm not a writer. But I tried.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
So many people died since this all began. so many more will keep on dying... but I will help out where I can. In some small way, maybe we can... retake some ground. I never considered myself to be a good person, even when I was an Agent... but now... that's what I WANT to be. So that's what I'm going to try to be. Every day. Even if I feel miserable, I want... to try to take Sam's place in the word, a bit. Sam used to be such a bright, shining light. Everything just seems so dull, ever since we split ways...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<br />
<br />
No matter... how far lost you are in The Castle, Sam. I will always love you.<br />
<br />
I
think about you. Every day. Every hour. Every minute. You're with me.
The Plague tried to hurt you even more when He pulled your strings and
made you take my eye... but an eye is nothing compared to the heart. And
you took that YEARS ago. Back on that bus. When you first asked if that seat
beside me was taken. Smiling at my scowl. A smile that lit up those eyes
of silver as you kinda tilted her head sideways at me. The red in your hair catching the light. From that day on,
you were always so determined to give me reasons to smile. To give me
reasons to keep hoping. Keep believing. In myself. In people. In life.
In everything.<br />
<br />
My Eternal Optimist.<br />
<br />
My Best Friend and Lover.<br />
<br />
My Light, when everything else went Black. <br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I will Find You, one day.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Until then... I'll keep smiling. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I'll keep smiling.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15341487104668108798noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9141875965781301723.post-42782445630497696892014-04-18T00:17:00.000-04:002014-04-18T00:17:08.973-04:00You lot probably weren't expecting to hear from me again.Honestly,
I wasn't expecting to be typing up anything again. I was... well, I
didn't really see any ending scenario of what I was doing that would....
lead to me walking away. I figured either Redlight was going to
obliterate me in a "take you down with me" type gambit or.... I'd have a
second - just one lousy second - where I could walk across the rift
just before it sealed up. That I could... choose... to take the same
fate that i was condemning others to. That I could finally.... be
there.... for Sam. So it didn't have to be alone. It had been ALONE for
so fucking long, but I thought...<br />
<br />
<br />
It doesn't matter what I thought.<br />
<br />
I had accepted death. You probably noticed.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
David Banks, however, was not so willing to accept that.<br />
<br />
He
pulled me from the wreckage of that CUlt Town when it was still
twisting and screaming out agains t itself as realities were SLICED away
from each other and... and I don't remember all that much. I remember a
ringing in my head so loud that my ears felt ready to burst and bleed. I
remember clutching my skull in a haze of red - blood in my eyes, blood
from my nose, blood on my tongue.... I could barely BREATHE without
gagging...<br />
<br />
<br />
but what hurt more than my mind
or body then... what made the shuddering worlds around me all that
unimportant... was knowing I'd missed my chance. That I'd condemned Sam,
along with Luke, and I couldn't even TAKE IT WITH THEM because I was
STUCK here...<br />
<br />
I think I was dying.<br />
<br />
But it really... didn't seem all that important.<br />
<br />
<br />
I must have been already passed out when David turned up. Fracture was gone. Probably jumped back to his reality so as to not get stuck when everything started... shifting. I just remember... laying face down in the mud. Chilled and burning hot at the same time. Blackness edging in around me as I made my final choice to not... fight for it. To just let death happen, if that's what was scratching at the door. I'd given Max to a friend, so there was no real point in hanging around anymore. It was fine. Everyone else was gone and I knew I was a little off mentally anyway so... what the hell, right?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I woke up here.... last week sometime. The days kinda blur. I've been sleeping a lot. Guess I'm catching up on missed time... a hell of a lot of missed time...<br />
<br />
I honestly didn't... consider it to be a "suicide" attempt.<br />
<br />
It never CLICKED in my head as that.<br />
<br />
I was just... going to be with Sam.<br />
<br />
That was it.<br />
<br />
<br />
But David... saw it, I guess. Felt where my mind was. Recognizable tones or something. And when I woke up cursing as he re-wrapped a bandage a bit too tight... I STILL hadn't clued in to where my mind was. David was saying all kinds of shit, and I just wasn't cluing in. I was upset. I was HURTING for condemning my love and my friend(s?) to ROT on the other side of that fucking veil. I felt GUILT for it...<br />
<br />
Thinking back, I think I did recognize the FEAR that sparked in David's eyes when I said that.<br />
<br />
He'd seen what Guilt had done to Sam.<br />
<br />
I should have been using my fucking head better before laying that kinda thinking on Banks.<br />
<br />
But I didn't. I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to give a damn. And I nearly gave David a fucking heartattack when I got up while he was out and landed up meeting Em. Who I landed up making a snack for, along with my own, before I started into Story Mode. Explaining that, yes, her "Grandpa" and I knew each other from a WHILE back. How it was my job to catch him. To which she responded by saying I must not have been very good at my job. Which is... accurate. I guess. Considering. But anyway. I started talking about the (lighter side) of the "Good old days" and all the ACTUALLY funny scenarios that came up. Told her how Banks had dropped a fucking CRANE on my car at one point...<br />
<br />
And that was when David practically burst into the room. Actually panicked.<br />
<br />
<br />
He'd come home and found my room empty. Had assumed the worst.<br />
<br />
THAT was when I finally got on the same page as him. When I really.... realized... what kind of a slap in the face I had been planning to give Sam and David and Luke and everyone ELSE who had worked to keep me alive. To get me THROUGH this shit without turning Sam's sacrifice useless.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I realize now... that I have to keep living. Fighting. No matter what the road. No matter what the pain or loss or possibilities of insanities. I gotta keep it up. Cause I'm the last, aren't I? Last of the Prescott clan. I gotta live FOR them. The best I can. Push myself to be.... even better than what I think I'm capable of. For our son, our little girl.... and for Sam too. The love of my life. The one person who always saw the best of me, even when I was showing my worst.<br />
<br />
<br />
Today was the first day I didn't have a headache or a nosebleed or both. So I thought I'd update here.<br />
<br />
I'll fill you in on what happened at that Cult Town a bit latter on.<br />
<br />
<br />
just, for now... I'm alive.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
and I plan on staying that way.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15341487104668108798noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9141875965781301723.post-18126582078756958912014-04-04T21:20:00.000-04:002014-04-04T21:32:22.987-04:00We Made ItWe'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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
It's those eyes.<br />
<br />
Those fucking... BURNING... amber eyes. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The Redfuck has been letting me see snippets of it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Like the night our relationship nearly ended before it began.<br />
<br />
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...<br />
<br />
<br />
I cheated on Sam, back when we were dating.<br />
<br />
<br />
And Redlight knew.<br />
<br />
He knew about the fight. Only a few weeks into the relationship. It was new, and I wasn't used to.... commitments...<br />
<br />
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?<br />
<br />
Then I went home...<br />
<br />
<br />
...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...<br />
<br />
It killed me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
And Redfuck knew all about it. Wouldn't fucking SHUT UP about it. <br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Kinda like how I was using him, in a way.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
And you know what?<br />
<br />
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...<br />
<br />
I'm not making that mistake anymore.<br />
<br />
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...<br />
<br />
They're loyal.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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....<br />
<br />
Links in a chain.<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
"Nightscream" was a Dove in this world before this Hell twisted it into a Raven with bloodied talons.<br />
<br />
"Fracture" was so intelligent as a kid that they actually held him back in his education to keep him "normal".<br />
<br />
"Morningstar" could play a violin with such passion you could FEEL it right down to your core.<br />
<br />
"Joseph" proudly wore the flag on his uniform as a soldier. Fighting for his country and all of us.<br />
<br />
David Banks... I've honestly never seen anyone fight so hard against the inevitable. To protect.<br />
<br />
One has to wonder... what Spencer might have been. If he'd been given the chance.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I just... want it to be over already. I'm tired. Very tired. <br />
<br />
<br />
The sooner we get this over with, the better it is for everyone.<br />
<br />
Why the FUCK this had to fall on us, I haven't a damn clue. <br />
<br />
But, at dawn, we make our move.<br />
<br />
<br />
Wish us luck.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15341487104668108798noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9141875965781301723.post-77012462420424350962014-03-22T22:21:00.000-04:002014-03-22T22:21:20.982-04:00The RedFuck BastardWell, we're still goddamn ALIVE, how's THAT for starters?<br />
<br />
No, you didn't get a "I'm scheduling this email to go up hours after I've left" shit message. Know why? Cause timelimits to get shit DONE fucking SUCK. Cause wouldn't THAT just be perfect? Trying to sneak in all stealthy like, and your "prey" READS about what you're doing online. You gotta let yours gut tell you when it's time to "Storm the Castle" you know. Can't keep checking your watch and FORCE what feels right.<br />
<br />
i really am NOT in the mood for this little update. EVERYTHING is goddamn sore and the STUPID FUCK hasn't SHUT UP since we...<br />
<br />
<br />
might as well get this over with.<br />
<br />
<br />
I had figured a while back that everyone's FAVORITE egotistical bastard would either go one of two places:<br />
<br />
Either to the Last Place anyone would Expect him to go.<br />
<br />
Or for FIRST Place anyone would Expect him to go.<br />
<br />
I had bets on the First. And, as it turns out, I was fucking RIGHT. The Bastard DIDN'T go running off to some spit of nowhere to hide while he recovered and thought of a new way of convincing everyone that everything was going "According To Plan". He DIDN'T drop off the face of the planet to go curl in a ball in Nowhere-ville. He buried himself RIGHT under our noses, and therefore the one place no one would check.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://youpaywedeliver.blogspot.ca/2012/04/steele-hollow-man.html" target="_blank">The House</a>. <br />
<br />
<br />
Poetic, right? Going back to the exact place that The Devil began and Spencer Fitzgerald ended. Dramatic. What is WITH you bunch with always being so damn DRAMATIC? seriously.oh, well. Guess it does keep shit interesting, if nothing else. And if there was one thing that that damn House knew how to do... it was keep shit interesting. The entire fucking place was set up like a Fun House from Hell.<br />
<br />
I didn't like the air from the second I walked in - my hand instinctively shifting to rest on my glock, no matter how useless a weapon it was. Just standing there. Barely three feet inside The House that appeared so very much normal from the outside, never getting spared a glance from anyone or anything... even as we stood there, the air contracted and cooled. A draft blowing through where there COULDN'T have been one, carrying with it voices. Broken voices. Some laughing. Some encouraging. Some frightened. Some angered. Drifting in whispers of times gone by. Times long forgotten. Times when things were... simpler. Even though it hadn't seemed that way at the time, I'm sure. These were the halls where The End began, after all. The halls, The House, that Spencer and the couriers ran for their lives and met fate. One. By one. By one.<br />
<br />
And, like the drifting whispers... The House itself shifted and altered itself by the minute. Flipping and churning and switching around on itself. Cracking and breaking, then re-merging into one, two, eight, then three. Half of a bathroom bleeding into a kitchen, with half a couch sticking out from the wall and a rug on the ceiling soaked in blood that was pooling onto the tiles next to the ceiling fan. And, amongst it all... black branches. Everywhere. Gnarled and twisted branches reaching out from the very walls, entangling everything it its reach as the walls BLED and the whispers started RUSHING turned to screams and cries and pleads and gunshots firing RICOCHETING AND then we LURCHED and I grabbed hold of Fracture and yanked him out of the way of a wall closing CRASHING into another and merging as the bathroom bled into a living room and a doorway grew where there wasn't one...<br />
<br />
I heard someone shouting.<br />
<br />
Rationality still trying to find some USE in that damn maze, I rushed to see who was there... only to collide with someone.<br />
<br />
Or, most accurately, their phantom.<br />
<br />
I can only assume it was Steele, but it might not have been. His image taken from some event. Rushing across the room with a shout, swinging open that door, and slamming it shut behind him as he kept running. Then he'd shout and be running across the room again...<br />
<br />
Fracture gave me a look. I returned it. Then he reached for that door, pulling it wide.<br />
<br />
<br />
We were greeted by our mirror images. An illusion of me and Fracture opening the door from the OTHER side, with that Phantom of Steele rushing through them and towards us, while our phantom rushed through us and towards them. The phantoms meeting in the middle and there was.... an explosion, kinda. No fire. Just a deafening CRACK that nearly deafened me and it was like I was hit by a wall. A punch that ripped the air straight from my lungs as I slammed back into a wall behind and INTO one of those fucking branches. Finger-like branches coiling around, as if sensing Life... and wanting to claim it. Seize it.<br />
<br />
I heard the walls around us groan.<br />
<br />
And I knew they were getting ready to shift again. But, snagged as I was, I was bound to get torn away with it and THAT would probably be my death.... until that groan became almost a wail. Sick and pained and distorted as all the room began to violently shift and turn... except where we were standing. I could FEEL the branches wrapped around me straining to shift with the rest of the house... but not able to. Held. Caught. LEASHED.<br />
<br />
Fracture... had leashed it. The immediate area. Holding it in place so as to not get swept away by the current... but it was clear that he was FEELING it. Maintaining that bubble around us as I fought to free myself of those fucking branches, the immediate area OUTSIDE us was far more turbulent and violent than it was before. Like we were the rock in the rapids. And when I finally DID free myself - when we actually started MOVING again - it was clear that The House... was PISSED. The burden of it becoming heavier and heavier on Fracture as we tried to negotiate the halls. Trying to make our way along... even as we entered the same room we were exiting. Even as we opened doors to black abysses that radiated a damn chill that made my skin crawl. Even as those whispers from behind started... playing familiar voices...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<i>"Run? Run </i><i><b>where</b>? He's </i><i><b>everywhere</b>! What
the Hell do you want us to do, Sam? </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Take flight and never look back?! WE
HAVE A LIFE HERE! What about Leo? Have you thought of him? At all? </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Or
are you too <b>focused</b> on your own fucking plans to remember this isn't just about--"</i><br />
<br />
<i>"Alex... please, don't. I know you're scared. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>We're<b> ALL </b>scared, but we can't just sit on our hands here. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>This </i><i>thing
knows our routines, our lives... maybe... maybe if we get on the road,
we can stay one step ahead. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Leo will come with us too, he--"</i><br />
<br />
<i>"He's only a kid, Sam! He can't grow up on the road! </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Living like some goddamn<b> bum</b> drifting from one place to another!" </i><br />
<br />
<i>"Leo. Would come too. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I already spoke to Owen, and he thinks it might
give us some time to sort this out. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>His daughter will come too, of
course. All of us. Together. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>We'll keep each other safe..."</i><br />
<br />
<i>"No. No, this is<b> insane</b>! </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I am NOT getting driven out of my home! "</i><br />
<br />
<i>"...You can still call this a <b>home</b>? </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Face it, Alex, it's just a house now. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>It stopped being a 'home' when you became too scared to sleep in it."</i><br />
<br />
<i>"...Still, I--"</i><br />
<br />
<i>"We have to run the gauntlet, Alex. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I'm sorry, but this is our option. Our <b>one</b> option. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I know it's hard but--"</i><br />
<br />
<i>"Get out."</i><br />
<br />
<i>"Alex, I--"</i><br />
<br />
<i>"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Get out.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i> </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>Get out.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>GET OUT.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Even as those whispers brought me years back in time, it was like I could... feel... that same tone from The House. From the walls and doors and hallways and rooms. Every one vibrating. PULSING. with that single demand.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Fracture's left eye started bleeding down his cheek. Blisters and rashes spreading up his neck and across his clenched jaw as he tried so hard to FORCE stability on this realm. Trying so hard to keep it in place just long enough to find that Red son of a bitch and get the hell out... but The House was having none of that. The House didn't WANT a leash, it wanted us all fucking OUT...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
and that's when it hit me.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The House... WANTED... us out.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The damn fucking thing was alive. I didn't know how or why, but I did remember reading something that Spencer had wrote ages ago that might just have suggested this House was no ordinary House... and, right then, I went with my gut. cause when logic and shit is being flung out the window, your gut is all you have left to fly with.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I told Fracture to release it.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
He looked at me like I had lost my mind, but, slowly, he retracted his will off the area...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
and we were rewarded by a violent shift that put us right back where we started: at the front door. So violent, in fact, that we were slammed into it and both of us found ourselves sprawled on the floor. hands and knees.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>GETOUT. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>GETOUT. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>GETOUT.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i> </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i> </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<br />
I could FEEL it. No doubt that Fracture did too. So I did something incredibly stupid... and started talking to the House. Started talking over the Whispers and the creaks and groans in the shifting wall. I mentioned about how we too wanted to leave, but that we were looking for someone. Someone that The House probably wanted to get rid of too. A GLITCH in reality. A creature that should never have BEEN, with a presence of his own clawing at The House's workings...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i></i><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I drove a bargain.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Let us find him. And we will DRAG him out with us.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Slowly, the shifting rooms came to a stop. Deafening the House in complete silence... before, carefully, it shifted again. And a hallway came to exist in front of us. I took that as a 'yes', and started walking before Fracture did. Making him jog a few steps to catch up, but I was already thinking of how strange life was. After all... compromise? Negotiation? Where the HELL did that come from? When did I start striking deals and stop bulldozing my way through everything? Since when am /I/ the one to think outside the box and find a solution, rather than just getting mad and going on rants?</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i> </i></div>
the sign is nigh<br />
<br />
<br />
The hall didn't give any other option but straight forward, so all that we had to do was follow it. The air kinda... felt thicker. The further we went.... no, that's wrong. Not 'thick', just HEAVY. Like it was getting harder and harder to breathe. My skin feeling just on FIRE with every step closer, like there was even a CHARGE to it that sensed us coming.... and wanted us gone. Just like The House had. But this was Wrong. Way wrong. I always... did wonder what Sam had always meant by that. I had always assumed that it was the same 'wrong' I used to feel when heading into a Sting, back in my hayday. When things just... felt like we were going into something fifty times worse than what we had initially thought. But, walking up to that wooden door at the end of the hall.... that was something else entirely. That was what Nightscream had meant by 'Wrong'. That was every cell, every fiber in your entire body and being screaming out all at once that this was more than just 'deep shit'.... this "was impossible". This "shouldn't be". this "COULDN'T BE". It's... the scream of reality. When you walk into a Wound.<br />
<br />
Fracture tried to keep that 'Bleeding' off of us best he could. Though that did mean he was breaking out in a rash again. Fingernails turning black. I didn't much ask him about it, but he seemed to be doing better against the "Wrong" than he did against The House. Though, it was when I was just standing outside that office door... I did wonder. I was just a human. Just a human with a glock in one hand and a katana behind my back. Fracture was... one of the "Special Crowd" as it were.... but just how special was he? Compared to Red? I mean, Red had been hiding for months. It had taken WAY too long to track down Konaa and Red had had ALL that goddamn time to recover...<br />
<br />
In that instant... the hallway without a single exit felt more like a ramp feeding cattle to slaughter than anything else.<br />
<br />
But still. Passed the cold chill that went down my spine... passed the air that seem to PULSE against my skin... I reached for the doorhandle. Only to hiss and curse as I ripped my hand back. The fucker was HOT. Fracture made a move as though to fix that... but wouldn't you know it - MY ANGER CAME BACK. And I booted that fucking door in. Made for a good entrance, if nothing else. Think it amused Fracture. Kinda like a kid who stubbed their toe on a box. So smash the box.<br />
<br />
What? I never claimed to be mature. That was Sam's deal, not mine. Ages be damned.<br />
<br />
The room was pitch black, but... not. At the same time. Almost like the shadows were enveloping the room, but that still left for some... light reflection. Shifting. Stirring. Flashes here and there. Not enough to really SEE, but to... find outlines. Very very faintly. As if just... hints of shape. Everything in me told me he was there. I could FEEL the sick fuck, but I couldn't see....<br />
<br />
But then I heard it.<br />
<br />
A slow, deep, disjointed laugh. Sick and distorted and mad and gut-wrenching. Born from a twisted grin that I heard in that laugh long before I actually saw it. Long before twin pits of hellish amber rose up - head shifting up - from beneath the shadow of a blood red hoodie. The blaze of yellow fire actually BURNING from the rest of the darkness. The rest of his figure pulling from it. Out of it. As if BORN from it. Part of him. Part of it. Those eyes locking deep into mine as the rest of him almost seemed to BLEED into Being from that red hoodie seated behind that large desk. Sharp edges of high cheek bones nearly cutting through skin that was so pale it almost seemed transparent - blue veins bulging and tight skin twitching and spasming as pools of liquid insanity and oppression sunk right through us. Not blinking. Never blinding. Clawing deep our minds. Our thoughts. Knowing us. Knowing everything as that grin only pulled wider. Far too wide from under the shadows of his red hoodie. The BURN in the air doubling. Tripling. Vibrating and TWISTING as my ears began to ring louder and louder until I thought my skull was going to split in two...<br />
<br />
And when he spoke... the entire room CRAWLED over itself. As if reality - AND THE HOUSE - were pained by his presence there.<i><br /><br /> </i><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #990000;"><b><i>"...I told you.</i><br /><br /><i>I told you ALL what was coming, but you were too BLIND to see it...</i><br /><br /><i>too DEAF and STUPID to hear the Drums beat...</i><br /><br /><i>can't you hear them? Even now? On the DOORSTEP of HELL can you HEAR IT NOW?!?</i><br /><br /><i>The Drums Are Coming... WAR... IS... COMING...</i><br /><br /><i>All... will... burn...</i><br /><br /><i>Fire and Ash.</i><br /><br /><i>DIDN'T I PROMISE YOU ALL NOT FIRE AND ASH??!?!"</i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
I rushed him.<br />
<br />
There wasn't a word between Fracture and I - there was barely a PLAN - but, as I rushed, I could FEEL a power punch through in front of me and WARP. Like when you combine two drinks, and there's that split second where one drinking is pushing the other out of the way other than merging with it. That's what I felt. A split second where the burn left my skin, and I drew Konaa's sword. Zero's sword. The sword that had already clashed with the Bleeding Tree once... the very essence that had killed the first Redlight. And I knew in my gut that this fuck would FEAR fate repeating. And from the look that splashed across that sharp edged face... I was FUCKING RIGHT.<br />
<br />
Until it didn't matter.<br />
<br />
Until a second punch came.<br />
<br />
Until.... there was a blast of red. An explosion. Spider webs. Strings.<br />
<br />
Millions and millions... of strings...<br />
<br />
And then pain.<br />
<br />
Red<br />
<br />
Hot<br />
<br />
Pain.<br />
<br />
<br />
and the floor rose up to hit my knees.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"ALEX!"</b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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It took... so long for me to piece together what had happened. How Red hadn't bothered to fight back, he... only turned me against myself. As he so likes to do. As that influence rushed through my head, I... turned the katana in my hold. And drove it the blade through my own abdomen. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Clean through to the hilt.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
I remember... the end of Fracture's lab-coat at the edge of my vision. So white amongst the wood and shadow and blood and pain that didn't make any goddamn SENSE at the time. Nothing adding up. I just... I just couldn't make sense of the pain. Of seeing that handle sticking out from me, my own shaking hand wrapped around it. I just... couldn't... even when, a second later, that spiderweb of Red was yanked away, it still left the pain and I couldn't understand WHY...<br />
<br />
Fracture said he forced his Will out. Made us a 'pocket' amongst the twisting, crawling realm of the room around us. He said that.... Red seemed to consider me 'dealt with' at that point. Turning his attention to Fracture. Really focusing on him for the first time. The fear I'd stirred sinking back... before, so very slowly, he GRINNED. Stretching wider and wider like a creepy ass Cheshire Cat. And then twisting. Morphing. STRETCHING over themselves for such a brief second. Like reality itself had BENT before reasserting itself. And he laughed. He LAUGHED. His words muttered and mumbled and tripping over themselves as he snickered to himself. Everything rippling and vibration in pained distortion as liquid lava BURNED and his presence folded all around Fracture's little bubble. Enveloping it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><b>"You can't keep me out~</b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><b>You think you're so special compared to the common sheep,</b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><b>But you are NOTHING compared to me!</b></i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><i><b>You're no more than a CHILD fogging up a window with a single, cheap breath!</b></i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><i><b>My Strings will become Your Will, Little One~ Little Wolf~</b></i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><i><b>And, once this trick of yours BURSTS... </b></i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><i><b>I'll have you clamp your jaws around your Pet of a Black Sheep.</b></i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><i><b>Before I'll STRIP your Power bare to your BONES!" </b></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><i><b> </b></i></span></div>
<br />
And then, despite Fracture using every ounce of Will he had to keep our 'Pocket' up... despite his tendons and muscles strained into bulging beneath his skin before bursting out, splitting him open like a pipe with too much water being driven through.... despite his left eye creating a STREAM of blood down the side of his face under the pressure of Redlight's power... he smiled back. He smiled... as burning amber boiled like lava and that wide grin tore back into a snarl. Because the Strings Redfuck relied on wouldn't work. Couldn't work. Burning up before they got anywhere NEAR taking control. </div>
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<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><b>"...That's not possible...</b></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><b><br />You insignificant, little SPECK!</b></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span>
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><b>WHO ARE YOU TO DENY ME?! <u>ME</u>!?</b></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><b>You'd have to be A Va----</b></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><b>...</b></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><b>Well then." </b></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></div>
<br />
Fracture said that he only blinked... and then there was a grip closing on his throat. He knocked it, twisting, getting it released. Barely keeping ahead. Redlight, even weakened as he was, was faster. Stronger. Fracture was nowhere NEAR any kind of advantage in any way, yet he still tried. Tried to keep Red distracted. Keep him occupied with illusions and voices and visions of the past. Of Spencer and the events in the House that we had seen so many of. Of the fight in Eden, now all-too-realistically in Fracture's skull since he ripped it from my own. He used everything he had to stall... until it wasn't enough. Until a force came in like a hammer dropping, slamming him to the floor. Where he DID get his throat caught in an iron grip. Where he was PULLED up, pressed back into the wall. Where he was RISEN clear off his feet. Where he... convulsed. As Redfuck's snarl... became a smile. Such a wrong smile. Voice amounting to a soft coo. As he... began to drain out whatever Power Fracture had.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><b>"Such a pathetic excuse for an 'Angel', now, aren't you?</b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><b>My, oh, my. Haven't the Chosen Children of The Gods fallen FAR!"</b></i></span></div>
<br />
<br />
But Fracture... only smiled through the blood. Through his body's convulsions and spasms. He just smiled... the gesture... spreading out wide. Inhuman.<br />
<br />
Because he could see the glistening blade slowly pulling out of my flesh, despite my OWN convulsions against it.<br />
<br />
Because he could see me stagger onto my feet. Turning back around. Coming up behind...<br />
<br />
<br />
And driving that goddamn sword RIGHT FUCKING THROUGH HIS BACK.<br />
<br />
<br />
I had thought... it might be instant. That it might work like a taser. Bringing the fuck to his knees from the BURN of residue on that blade. I had hoped it would immobilize him. Simple and clean and easy.<br />
<br />
I was in shock from being stabbed, I think.<br />
<br />
Because I really didn't expect to have to defend myself. To need to block a WILD swing with Red's arm that crushed my skull against the wall hard enough to crack the plaster. My vision splintering to pieces, edged in a thick black that only wanted to close in on me more. Pain didn't register from it. I only felt... dizzy. Confused. Everything coming to me so slow as that grip found my hair and cracked my skull a second time... and I saw the blood. A splatter of red from my mouth across the wall surface. I could TASTE it then. The first sensation that came back... before I realized he was killing me.<br />
<br />
He was killing me.<br />
<br />
And though I knew it... I couldn't really... wrap my head around it. I tried to fight him off a bit, but it was all too... lost behind the haze. Too blurred between the blood and pain and those burning eyes. My legs threatening to slip out from under me completely... before I heard a gunshot go off right near my ear. Everything that had been holding me up... just fell away in one collapsing motion. And I would have fallen away with it, if Fracture hadn't grabbed me. Easing me to the floor. So INSISTENT that I stay awake. Which was really the LAST thing I wanted to do....<br />
<br />
Fracture had shot Redlight point-blank in the back of the skull. Odds were fifty/fifty of whether it would kill him, or his own survival instinct would kick in and all his remaining power - the power he was using to fend of the DRAW of the sword driven through him - would be FED into protecting his life. Which is exactly what happened. The back of his hood was a mess of blood and tissue and bone... which started piecing itself back together the second that the impact stopped. Replacing brain and bone and skin and hair... and spitting out the bullet before it was totally done. He'd warped reality with his remaining strength to unwind the injury... but at the cost of losing his OTHER battle. The traces of the Bleeding Tree on the blade more than enough now to paralyze him. Leaving him sprawled out where he lay.</div>
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Thank God I brought someone with medical training. Otherwise I'd have never been able to fumble my way out of that House.</div>
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We're nearly at the Cult Town now. Redlight's regained power, but not enough to cause too much of a hassle for Fracture. Though we BOTH wish he would learn how to SHUT THE FUCK UP with the mindfuckery. Not to mention that goddamn tapping he does. It gets really REALLY irritating really REALLY fast. Him and his goddamn drums. His fucking War. And he still thinks he can still manipulate it all. Still thinks he's near achieving his goal....</div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
He just keeps tapping away...<i></i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i></i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i><br />tap, tap, tap, tap... <br /><br />tap, tap, tap, tap... <br /><br />tap, tap, tap, tap...<br /><br /><br />tap, tap, tap, tap... </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
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Addendum:<i> </i>................THE TWENTY-SECOND??!? HOW THE <b>FUCKING HELL</b> IS IT THE GODDAMN TWENTY-SECOND?!!??!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15341487104668108798noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9141875965781301723.post-73652809822479567312014-03-02T22:33:00.000-05:002014-03-02T22:39:10.323-05:00The Weary KnightThere is nothing that makes someone feel old (and forty-two is not THAT old. I mean come on.) than chasing after some spritly (is that even a word?) young thing. Seriously. It took me HOW DAMN LONG to track him down??? I guess there's something to be said for the trades learned in this little circus of ours. Not to mention the loyalty of close comrades. Trying to get ANYONE to say BOO about this certain "Knight's" whereabouts - even when I KNEW they knew something - was like trying to get water from a rock.<br />
<br />
Actually, I think the water/rock thing would have been easier.<br />
<br />
But in any case.... I did manage to find him.<br />
<br />
The one we all know as "<a href="http://somethingtoleavebehind.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Konaa</a>".<br />
<br />
Of course, that left me with the problem of APPROACHING said Runner in a way that put us off on a good foot. Not exactly an easy thing to do when you've basically become someone's personal stalker ("I know what you did last summer"?). I tailed him for a bit down the street (who suspects a one-eyed hobo with a dog to have any kind of malice intent?) before he turned into a small Cafe. I don't know if he ducked in there and ordered a coffee BECAUSE he thought he was being followed, or if that's where he had meant to go all the way, or both.... but, if I had to guess, I'd say he knew. This life of ours tends to turn Paranoia into a kickass survival instinct.<br />
<br />
I left Max outside (I never did tell you guys how I got Max, did I? Weird how none of you even asked. Oh well, I'll get back to it.) and went inside. Konaa was at a booth on the far side - no way I could just casually walk by and strike up a conversation. To get to his table, I'd need to MEAN to go over that way... and then our stares matched for a split second, and I knew it was either dive in or walk out. So I went direct. Walked straight over. I had honestly been meaning to at least say "hello" to start or something else that might be conceived as more "friendly" in nature... but what I kinda found myself saying was:<br />
<br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"You are one hard son of a bitch to track down, kid."</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The way he looked at me - giving me this small little grin as I walked up - I knew he was already taking me a bit on the bumpy side of sane. Probably noticed my glock, not that I do much to try to hide it. Or maybe it was my age. I mean, hell, Konaa is what? 25? 23? Not even? I guess that's considered 'old' for this particular game of 'asshole' but holy CRAP; how does someone that young have eyes that old? Nevertheless, he seemed to like the fact I was being direct about the whole stalking thing. Which probably means he DID know I was following him. Go me. The Academy would be SO proud. </div>
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He invited me to take a seat. Asked if I wanted anything, and my stomach kinda answered for me. So I got a burger with fries. Couldn't really remember the last time I ate something that didn't come straight out of a package of some sort, so I'd have killed for a burger. Which... I actually think I said. Which probably was a poor choice of words. Especially since I wasn't sure if it was even past noon or not cause my watch had broken when I'd broken the nose of some twat who thought I looked like a nice punching bag. "Don't start something if you aren't comfortable with roles getting reversed." That's what I say about THAT. But anyway, he didn't seem offended or concerned by it. Even took my hand when I offered it, introducing myself. Trying my best to clarify the fact that I wasn't there to start anything, even though I was sure that he'd heard that kinda bullshit before. I started telling him a little about myself. Vague things at first, which he'd respond in vague with his own life. Then getting into more detail. Telling him about how shit started with me. About Sam. About the Asylum and all my JOYOUS adventures since I ran from THERE... and about... theories that I've had. Since I've seen the shit I've seen. Since I got out of Eden. Since I really started putting shit together and ORGANIZING the puzzle pieces to start seeing a bit more of the hidden message behind it...</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>"...See, that's the problem isn't it?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>He, and others like Him, are the center of it all. They are the 'Gods'. Fear itself. And you can't... eliminate fear from the world. They exist down to our core as a species. Fear of the dark. Fear of strangers. Fear of disease. Fear of a puppeteer's strings... They Exist because We Exist. They get Their strengths, and maybe even Their weakness, from us. A couple years ago, things were bad. Very bad. The Fears were everywhere, and only getting more and more active. Some people called it all part of some big cycle or some shit, but it had NEVER been that bad. Not in any of the records I hacked into. And then... it was like we dropped off a cliff. Fear sightings have become an uncommon, even a RARE occurrence. </i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>I'm not an expert in any of this crap, but, to me, it stinks. Creatures like that don't just suddenly VANISH for no rhyme or reason. I mean, sure, there were people like you fighting back for a while. But even that has kinda stopped with less and less people actually giving a damn about... well, giving a damn about each other. About keeping 'humanity', as Sam used to call it. These days, the Runners are just as bad as the damn Servants, and the Fears... are nowhere to be damn seen. I don't REMEMBER the last person who said they'd seen The Slender Man. He's just... gone. And, in His place, we have that Cult Town that Nightscream created when it got Slender to fight Plague. We have the self-proclaimed "Angels" or Attendants or whatever the hell they call themselves. We have our second Redlight in the works, and <a href="http://nightscream-evermore.blogspot.ca/2013/04/running-gauntlet.html" target="_blank">at LEAST one other Crafter</a> running around, <a href="http://youpaywedeliver.blogspot.ca/2012/03/its-almost-comical-my-dears.html" target="_blank">possibly two</a>. We have that <a href="http://shadesofthree.blogspot.ca/2014/01/01110100-01101000-01100101-01110010.html" target="_blank">Harbinger thing that came from The Quiet</a>, and is currently being held off in Eden. We have people claiming superpowers and special abilities and special 'understandings'... though not as bad as the <a href="http://whatyouareinthedark.blogspot.ca/" target="_blank">Revenants</a>, they're still THERE. And if you think of each of these little... 'special folk' as a needle. And the Veil that divides our worlds as a bag of water... what you get is leaking. Dimensional Bleeding. And a hell of a lot of it. It's gotten so bad, that we don't even NOTICE it. Doorways that we don't remember being there are suddenly THERE. Or the complete opposite. Even that damn Cult Town is SPREADING out into the surrounding area. You should SEE some of the mindfuckery that's beginning in neighboring towns. But you don't have to go there. Just look around. Anywhere. If you actually WATCH the world moving around... there are glitches. It's all around us, but we don't see it because no one is LOOKING for it. They're too busy looking for the Monsters who have already goddamn VACATED. Because THEY sense what's going on. THEY can feel the firestorm coming when that bag breaks and THEIR worlds slam into and crash into ours. THEY are backing off... because They don't want to burn with our world. </i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>You want to know why I tracked you down, Konaa? Because there's next to no one who gives a shit anymore.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>And, if this keeps up, there isn't a single damn one of us who's going to get out of it.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>....So. Wishing you hadn't asked me to sit down, yet?"</i></div>
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Konaa said nothing for a long while and that's when the waitress came with my plate, though I didn't touch it at first. I hadn't discussed my theory with anyone else other than Fracture, but he agreed that it made sense. Agreed to help. Hell, I don't even honestly think that Fracture is FROM my version of reality. Some events in our histories don't seem to line up, and he's mentioned a couple of people being alive who I'm pretty damn sure are as dead as a damn doornail over here. Like <a href="http://11minutestomidnight.blogspot.ca/" target="_blank">Mitch</a>, for instance. Morningstar's old Canadian playmate turned whatever-the-hell. On Fracture's side, she's not only alive, but actually is one of those hell-bent Runners who never seem to die, no matter how hard of a shit kicking they take. Never even hinted at turning Proxy, either. So, yeah. I think Fracture's a little bit out of his jurisdiction. But ain't that just MORE proof of how screwed to hell this all is? The only real reason Fracture is on board at all is because we're his experiment. He has worries that HIS side of things are headed in the same direction that WE are at, and he wants to have a sandbox to see what can be done to stop it, or even just delay. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Fracture and I have spent a LOT of time just talking shit over. Apparently, <a href="http://fighthimuntiltheend.blogspot.ca/" target="_blank">good ol' Robert</a> turned proxy before <a href="http://litethefire.blogspot.ca/2012/10/true-creation-requires-sacrifice.html" target="_blank">kicking the bucket</a> on his side. As a Highest of all things, under the codename "Loveless". Fracture and "<a href="https://www.blogger.com/profile/15167237404932338891" target="_blank">Duckie</a>" (as Fracture calls him) did him in. There was all kinds of crap like that right across the map...</div>
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At last though, Konaa nodded. Making a comment about how he was never one to wait for something to go wrong.</div>
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<i>"So how do we stop idiots from running with scissors?"</i></div>
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So... I told him the rest of my theory. I told him about how I'd always planned on killing Redlight. And why. But then... I went into how I was now thinking that the Red Bastard could actually serve a purpose. After all, if the issue is that the Veil is getting too damaged, too thin... then, really, a good place to start... should be to give it an energy boost. And if there is one thing a Crafter hosts, it's energy. Energy to manipulate reality itself. To create loops and alter perceptions. </div>
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I planned on finding <a href="http://nightscream-evermore.blogspot.ca/2013/02/rumours-of-my-death-have-been-greatly.html" target="_blank">Redlight</a>... and dragging him to the <a href="http://nightscream-evermore.blogspot.ca/2012/04/just-say-please.html" target="_blank">open wound that Nightscream had created</a>.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Then... I'd do something that <a href="http://neverdieneverdying.blogspot.ca/" target="_blank">Morningstar</a> himself insisted on TEACHING ME how do to.</div>
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I'd convince him to cooperate.</div>
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But, first, I needed to get him there. I needed something to subdue him. To pin Redlight down and stop him from playing any of his usual tricks... even if it was a long shot, a weapon of faith... I was ready to have a bit of faith in that kinda crap... </div>
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He gave a slow nod. Seeming more... invested... with what was coming to be our little alliance. <i>"I knew Redlight, when he was Spencer... He and I worked together many times, tried to build a safe community for those like us, until... It was too much for him, and he snapped under the pressure.</i>" He sighed heavily.<i> "Maybe it's time to settle that score.." </i>He indicated a large duffel bag by the table, then paused a bit, seeming to debate something in his mind.<i> "...There's something in there that might just do the trick. It's not a special weapon, really. But if you want belief empowered, there's little better tool than what I have."</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>"We got little else other than faith, to be honest. And I'm not the believing sort..."</i> I scoffed a laugh. <i>"Well. I wasn't."</i> My eye drifted to that bag. <i>"...<a href="http://fateworsethandeath.blogspot.ca/" target="_blank">Timothy Holiday, or 'Zero' if you'd like</a>... he fought that Bleeding Tree with it, if I remember right. At least, that's if Zero was actually coherent enough to differ reality from dream at that point. And the <a href="http://fighthimuntiltheend.blogspot.ca/" target="_blank">first redlight</a>... he was killed by that tree. It's a long shot, but it just might work. I know you don't have a single damn reason to trust me, but there's no sense in BOTH of us risking our damn necks. If I could just... borrow it. For a bit. If I actually survive, I swear on the graves of my family that I'll bring it back."</i></div>
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I thought for sure that Konaa was going to shoot me down. Or laugh. Or both. I mean, it's no secret that the guy protects that piece of his like the Holy Grail and it's not like he knew me from Adam, you know? But, by the time I'd finished, Konaa... no... June Reynolds was just beaming. Grinning from ear to ear. A strange kind of relieved expression settled over him. And then he reached over, unzipped the bag, and pulled out a cardboard package about a foot wide and five feet long. Offering it to me freely across the table.</div>
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<i>"Your story, pal. I'd be glad to give you the means to continue it. But...yes, I would like it back. It's got considerable sentimental value. Just...There's no point in not letting it do what it's meant to. Save the day."</i></div>
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<i>"...Heh. You're alright, kid."</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>"I've been called worse. Honestly, I'm tired. Burnt out. I dealt with my own personal demon... <a href="http://letshaveourselvesachat.blogspot.ca/" target="_blank">Rhodes</a> is dead. How, well, I think I'd rather not go into it. But he was as bad as they get. Worse than <a href="http://themorninghunter.blogspot.ca/" target="_blank">Morningstar</a>, worse than <a href="http://nightscream-evermore.blogspot.ca/" target="_blank">Nightscream</a> - he never needed corruption, he was already that bad. Now that he's gone, I feel like I've...done my part. </i></div>
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<i>So. Go do yours. </i></div>
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<i> Just remember that a lot of people died so that we could make it this far.."</i></div>
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<i>"...You think you'll try to settle? Your eyes are older, but you're still a young thing. You shouldn't waste your years without a home. Or people to share a home with. It's rare thing to find. Even rarer to keep. But it's worth the pain. Least, it was for me."</i></div>
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<i>"...<a href="http://brightconundrum.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">I've got a girl</a>."</i> He beamed a little.<i> "One that was waiting patiently for my stupid ass... One I think I can finally get back to now."</i></div>
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<i>"...Heh. The ones that wait are usually the ones that make it all worth it. Trust me on that." </i></div>
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<i>"She was in this too, but... well. She retired some time ago. Good on her. Now that things are settled, I think I'm going to...go to school again. God, what a weird thought." </i>He rubbed a hand through his hair, chuckling. <i>"Go to school. What am I gonna do without random monster attacks?"</i></div>
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<i>"You'll just have to make do without the Nightmare."</i> A bit of a laugh. "<i>School. Career. Family. Sounds like you're goin' for the royal flush. Good for you, June. Just like you said: A lot of people have died so we could make it this far. No sense just 'surviving right? You gotta live. And live for those who didn't make it. If that means taking risks... then all you can do is roll the dice. </i></div>
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<i>I'll handle Redlight.</i></div>
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<i>You go get your girl."</i></div>
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<a href="http://litethefire.blogspot.ca/" target="_blank">Fracture</a>. </div>
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We're up.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15341487104668108798noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9141875965781301723.post-58455338380257843722014-02-08T00:47:00.000-05:002014-02-08T00:56:16.098-05:00The Fractured Guardian<a href="http://litethefire.blogspot.ca/2014/02/in-which-shit-happens-while-i-spend.html" target="_blank">This guy is seriously cracked.</a><br />
<br />
But in that really great way that makes someone like me feel normal, so... not complaining, I guess. I've met worse. Though my head did have some complaining to do after he was done jackhammering his way into my skull. Only tells me AFTERWARDS that he'd never done anything like that before.<br />
<br />
I could have shot him.<br />
<br />
But, anyway, rewinding a bit. He is kind of a liar. Kinda. If I wanted to jab at him I could call him that. Because the first time he dropped by, he did not announce himself at all. He just turned up at the very same Cafe where I was attempting to enjoy a coffee. Walked right through the front doors wearing a sheer white lab coat and a black cowboy hat. Those, along with his near pale-grey skin made him look like he'd taken a tumble out of some weird, black and white movie on a really cheap budget. Like, really cheap. Seriously. Who the hell wears a labcoat with a cowboy hat. Who. Besides this idiot, I mean?<br />
<br />
At the very least, he didn't try to pretend it was some big coincidence.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> "While I often do show up in random cafes </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>and single out stragglers by pretending to know them, </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>this is definitely not that."</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
In fact, he <a href="http://shadesofthree.blogspot.ca/2014/01/i-have-such-fucking-headache.html?showComment=1390405881955#c1498717667799005677" target="_blank">had a theory</a>.</div>
</div>
<br />
One that inspired him to track me down and have a nice little one-on-one, but not in that Cafe. Voicing concerns about the entire place turning into a "blood hall" if he was right. Which sounded bad enough to catch my attention and not just dismiss him (you get paranoid about ambushes and traps in this business) when he suggested we should take our conversation somewhere private. Max didn't really seem to like him all that much - growled at him from where he was curled up at my feet - but Fracture seemed far from offended. Simply commenting that he didn't think they allowed for dogs in here.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"They don't. But Max is a regular here so they put up with a stray like me.</i><br />
<i>Look, Fracture, the only thing close to 'private' I have is a park bench</i><br />
<i>or whatever one-star motel I decide to to break into."</i><br />
<br />
<i>"Let's break into a motel room."</i><br />
<br />
<i>"...You definitely need better pick-up lines, mate."</i><br />
<br />
<i> "Pick ups where never really my strong suit... how's this: </i><br />
<i>'Hey hot stuff, how about we break it a cheap room for some private investigating?'" </i><br />
<br />
<i> . "...Still not the worse line I've ever heard.</i><br />
<i>...Or used. </i><br />
<i>...Or have work, actually.</i><br />
<i>In any case, this may be another thing to add to the</i><br />
<i>long list of stupid things I've done, but... </i><br />
<i>You did say 'murder hall'.</i><br />
<i>Call me a bleeding heart, but I can't ignore that."</i><br />
<br />
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The motel wasn't far. Just around the block, really. There were others mulling about, so I opted for picking the lock. I went in first, Max at my heel, and Fracture closed up after us. And that... would be when things got uncomfortably personal very VERY fast. Got backed into the wall, but not before I'd drawn my glock and had it kissed under his jaw. I actually think that surprised him a bit - I'm fast. I was always a fast draw. Being trained under Cypher just made me faster. And I'd had my head screwed with enough to know when I wanted someone to back off and back off NOW. Mind control. Mind alteration. Memory block. Memory implant. Preception filter. Loop. I didn't know what the hell was pinging around that brain of his, so was sure as hell going to protect myself until I DID know.</div>
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<br /></div>
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And what his theory came to be... was that he was concerned that the Redfuck was taking refuge in the last place anyone would expect him to. And where his prime pursuer would never find him.</div>
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<br /></div>
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In my head.</div>
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I wanted to debate it... but stopped myself. Slowly lowering my weapon and holstering it. After all, Redlight had been in "Nightscream's" head for months, and Sam hadn't known. Why would I be any different? Besides... if Redlight WAS in my head... then it made killing him pretty damn simple, right? Just a round-a-bout with my favorite weapon and a bit too much pressure on the trigger. End of story. I could see that Fracture knew what I was thinking, from the simple gravity in his stare on me. We all get that, eventually. When we've seen enough death. A brace you put on yourself when you feel it coming again to take someone else. He had <i>that </i>look.</div>
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I just ripped the bandages off my head. Threw them on the floor. He didn't even react when I turned my stare back onto his. One blue eye, one gaping socket surrounded by gashed skin, slowly healing. He just... placed a thumb just below each side, below my eye and where my eye should have been, and then placed his index fingers on my temples. Instructing me to keep my eye open. To relax. Warning of possible discomfort as he leaned in awkwardly close. The blue in his own eyes taking on a strange light...</div>
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It started mild. Like a pinch. Just uncomfortable. That was it. </div>
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But then... it started to heat up. And BURN as something flipped in my head and I... I began to remember. Images flashing out. Ripping out. Morphed and distorted but REAL and... and Redlight was there. Not in my head, not as an infestation but as a memory. A smoking and charred figure struggling from Eden and running into the Empty City with me following right behind at a mad sprint. Determined to catch up. Determined to finish it, no matter what. The bastard shifted though. Coming back here. On this side. Leaving me there, struggling for breath as I was left behind once again. Screaming out in frustration and sleep deprivation and everything... and then I... I saw... something I had actually managed to forget. Suppress. Just... ignore.</div>
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I finally saw for myself... what Cypher refused to talk about. What he saw in The Castle that time.</div>
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Sam.</div>
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My Sam.</div>
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I will always... love Sam. No matter what this world turns it into.</div>
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It doesn't matter that Sam didn't even recognize me, or maybe it did. But it didn't understand why. Couldn't make the connection. It... the love of my life... stood before me in that City... as a puppet under The Plague Doctor. A human essence infested with disease upon disease. Boils and blisters and festering, oozing pus and fever so hot it blistered my skin just being near it...</div>
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and rats</div>
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Sam was... infested... with red-eyed rats.</div>
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I saw them staring out at me from under the tattered remains of that hoodie. Their hair... wet... from where they had been... nestled into...</div>
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Sam attacked me. Grabbed me - felt like acid on my skin - and threw me. Sam... literally<i> threw me </i>with a strength it didn't even look like it could manage and I went flying. Until I wasn't. Until the middle of my back hit something hard, but the rest of me didn't. The sheer pain that split through me in that instant was... unbelievable. A 'snap' that jolted me from head to toe, right into my core. White hot agony. And I screamed out... before flopping down. Hitting the pavement below the post that had just...</div>
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I couldn't feel my legs.</div>
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I guess that's what they call irony, isn't it?</div>
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But "Nightscream" hadn't finished yet. In fact, that had just been to immobilize me so I couldn't... fight back as much as it kicked me over and kneeled down on me. One leg pinning an arm, the other on my chest, while its glove wrapped around my throat... and the rusted, filthy blades of its gauntlet came to my face. Cutting down one side even as I struggled. Even as I pleaded for Sam to just... remember. Calling back to old times. Trying to spark some recognition, any recognition, throwing out any name I could remember from our lives together... or even from Sam's own life as a Proxy. Anything. Anyone. I tried... as its gauntlet positioned the bladed thumb over my eye. And then pushed in. Sliced in before there was a pop and a gush of hot blood as I couldn't... bite back the scream in my throat anymore. That blade still pushing back... until it stopped. Just stopped. And I saw... Eden flashing before my eyes.</div>
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That's what Plague wanted from me. Why He pulled Sam out of the Castle on rotten strings to do this. </div>
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He must not have been able to See into the chaos of Eden.</div>
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He wanted to know what happened.</div>
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He could have picked anyone to strip that from. He picked me. Probably to torture Sam. Probably because, somewhere lost deep inside, Sam is still awake, in some sense...</div>
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Someone else showed up then. I'm still... trying to remember who.</div>
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But up until that point... that was what Fracture saw and felt when he cracked into my skull. And it was what I re-experienced and re-felt. </div>
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So, yes, the neighbours probably heard the screaming. Fracture falling flat on his back with hands clawing into his skull and hair as his body violently convulsed and seized and curled. I, myself, collapsed to my knees the second his hands came off of me. Everything pitching and swirling in my head as the wall came down and I was Awake to so much more than before. I felt... hot. And sick to my stomach. But I managed to avoid passing out... only to then realize that Fracture had done just that. Max forced himself into my face. Whining and licking until my hands numbly dove into soft fur. Stroking him. Burying my face partly until I wasn't hearing my heart pounding in my ears anymore. Until I could breathe deep again...</div>
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When I was ready for moving again, I got to my feet (with a new wonder of how I possibly could) and managed to get Fracture into the bed. Leaving him to rest there as I went into the bathroom to change my bandages. Seeing my wounds... especially my missing eye... in a whole new way...</div>
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I felt so sick.</div>
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When Fracture woke up, we talked. And we talked for a WHILE. After he answered a few things in a way that I felt were positive for me, I told him about a... theory of my own that I've had for a little while now. An insane little idea that's been rattling around in my attic. I was honestly expecting to be shot down...</div>
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But, not only did he think it was possible... he was actually on board to help me.</div>
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From the way he talks about things, I don't even think he is FROM this dimension, but he's going to help anyway. And we need it. More than any of you realize we do. And time is just getting shorter and shorter, but we've... progressed. Even now, we're closer than we were.</div>
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<a href="http://shadesofthree.blogspot.ca/2014/01/life.html?showComment=1391148917338#c1297630560023251327" target="_blank">The 'Book' he mentioned here</a> is a part of that. It was an idea he had, and I think it'll help. We've since met up and done the exchange.</div>
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I've since thought of another detail that could help us.</div>
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A detail I've been trying to get a hold of for over a month now.</div>
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I know you are still alive, kid. I've been confirmed of that much. JUST ANSWER MY DAMN MESSAGES ALREADY.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15341487104668108798noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9141875965781301723.post-59751801281364901952014-01-28T00:50:00.000-05:002014-01-28T00:50:01.473-05:00LifeGotta admit, it's strange looking backwards. Stranger still even looking into the mirror. I've changed much over the years, more so than any of you even realize.<br />
<br />
Mostly because I couldn't talk about it.<br />
<br />
Not that I didn't want to.<br />
<br />
But couldn't.<br />
<br />
I'm sure many of you understand that kind of strangle hold. Not exactly an unheard of concept in this whole affair. But... there was a Plan in place. Ever since I entered this "Community", there's had to be a Plan. A Plan to Be Nightscream. A Plan to stop Redlight from messing with my head. A Plan to save Dr. Marsh. A Plan to storm Eden and stop Doomsday... and, at the end of it all, there's really so little to say. Every day in this life, knowing the truths we know, a day passes with the impact of a year or more on the Norms. All of them blessedly ignorant to all the tears. The screams. The loss and boiling anger and the truest grip of despair at the darkest hour of the night...<br />
<br />
It's tempting to hate them for it, isn't it? Wanting so bad to change BACK into something we can't even picture in our heads anymore. Can't even see in the mirror.<br />
<br />
We changed. Because we had to.<br />
<br />
Adapt or Die.<br />
<br />
Run. Or Die.<br />
<br />
That's how it was always played. Not that long ago, that's how it was Played. The Game. Not what the Overpowered, Narrow-Minded Idiots standing tall on masses of bodies at the top of their assorted Cults called "The Game". But the TRUE Game. The one without self-proclaimed "Angels" and Pale Men and Afflicted and Crafters and Witches and throngs of Mindless Servants prepared to kill and be killed. The One Game... with only two elements:<br />
<br />
The Hunter.<br />
<br />
The Prey.<br />
<br />
<i>Run, run, as fast as you can.</i><br />
<br />
Something has been going wrong over the last year or more. Something that took a while for me to notice. And, from what I can tell, no one else sees it yet.<br />
<i> </i><br />
But you will.<br />
<br />
I can't talk about it. Not yet. It's not safe to.<br />
<br />
Just open your eyes, and maybe you'll see it for yourself.<br /><br />Just... open your eyes.<br /><br /><br />No... new update on Redlight. Just keeping my head level and going through the usual bullshit to try to find him. Considering how he looked when I last remember seeing him, it'll take him a LONG while to recover. So he's hiding. Just hiding...<br /><br />But if The Harbinger gets away from the Attendants. If he finds Redlight before I do...<br /><br /><br />My god, what a mess.<br /><br /><br />Only thing I'm thankful for right now is Max. Don't know where I'd be without him, which sounds so damn stupid to say, but it's true. He lets me not think. Which is... really wonderful. Really.<br /><br />I'll update soon.<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15341487104668108798noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9141875965781301723.post-70773207905835240202014-01-20T00:47:00.000-05:002014-01-20T00:48:52.622-05:00I have such a fucking headacheSo... three days in The Empty City equals what...? four weeks out here? How the fuck does that even...?<br />
<br />
oh forget it. hurts to even TRY to think about it<br />
<br />
<br />
first things first... or i guess this is seconnd... whatever. I'M ALIVE. whoever is surprised, raise their hand. I sure as hell am. I thought I was just... going to land up as one of those shadows. "Nightlanders" or whatever. Those freaks certainly seemed interested enough in me... but I got out. Only one who did, as far as I can tell. i don't know why i made it. I shouldn't have. No fucking way. Not after how all the others....<br />
<br />
I should be dead<br />
<br />
but i'm not<br />
<br />
My eye is fucking GONE and one arm is a bit buggered plus your assortment of burns and cuts and... somethings. Can't quite figure out what the HELL made some of these marks. I just... I don't remember. I remember... shreds. Like picking a paper from water. coming in bits and pieces, all blurred and misplaced with each other. But I do know... that I ran. Mumbles dragged me from that hell hole in that bloody "Eden" - the lush impossibility encased in a city of stone. City of Echos...<br />
<br />
<br />
only one 'Echo' was needed though.<br />
<br />
<br />
"Proxy Bob" is finally at peace. or I hope so. He's in the Nothing now. Sam was always so afraid of the NothingNothingNothingNothingNothinggggBUT there were... other things in there. Other things that had been thrown into the... tear.... over time. the tear in Eden. The flaw. The GLITCH.<br />
<br />
The Door.<br />
<br />
Swinging on broken hinges.<br />
<br />
back and forth and forth and back...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
my god my head hurts<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
that thing got out.<br />
<br />
a soldier of the Brute. something dangerous. something DEVASTATING and world ending. world changing...<br />
<br />
<br />
The Harbinger. <br />
<br />
<br />
he's old. Over half a century has passed since his time. Cypher said something about how he was the one who made the trek through ALL the realms on a quest for knowledge. Ultimate knowledge. A man... a human man, who destroyed everything he had for it. His work. His family. And then his Life. His quest finally ending.... in the Silence of The Quiet. Right along with everything else that had been lost in there. Right along with The Brute, a Fear of War and Flame and Death...<br />
<br />
Every so often, a sacrifice must be made. A soul forged in just the right way (Wrong Way?) by The Attendance to keep the Tear stable.<br />
<br />
The sacrifice this time... was meant to be Dr. Marsh.<br />
<br />
But when REDFUCK threw him in, the moron intended to use "Echo" as bait. To lure The Brute close enough to absorb him.<br />
<br />
<br />
Anyone with half a brain cell would call it mad. But it makes perfect sense to those with a god complex, apparently. The Brute would have torn through him like a Pitt-bull through one of those fluffy dog toys with the squeak inside. But.... fortune was in his favor, as it always FUCKING SEEMS TO BE. And at the time he threw Dr. Marsh IN... something ELSE was thrown OUT. That same human from years ago...<br />
<br />
only not so much human anymore<br />
<br />
<br />
i've never seen... eyes that burn like that. Hellfire. Just fire and rage an ABYSS OF HEAT shrouded in SMOKE from every BREATH he took and his skin was ash and I....<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
he obliterated us<br />
<br />
<br />
we had an army<br />
<br />
and we were obliterated<br />
<br />
we tried to fight but... but this wasn't like the fights from before. This wasn't us vs The Crimson Court or us vs some Freak of Nature...<br />
<br />
We were fighting an Embodiment of Hell. Ultimate Destruction burning hot in the charred shell of what remained of a Misguided Husband and Father. And we.... burned. at least, those who were lucky did. I can still hear that screaming. Others found crueler fates. Others were drawn into the Tear. And others were... turned. Crimson Knights. Eyes of Fire and Skin of Ash. A growing army of His Own to sick upon an already-burdened world...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Cypher... ordered a retreat. Screamed for everyone to run. There was no point in being there. No point in any of it. He didn't want to see his Team, his family, die like that. They deserved better. I don't give a shit what any of you think of them, they did NOT deserve to die like that... not... like that...<br />
<br />
Luke himself didn't make it.<br />
<br />
The burnt and burning remains of that fucker "Samael" got to him<br />
<br />
That self-proclaimed "Angel" should have BURNED WITH THE REST OF EDEN<br />
<br />
but no<br />
<br />
he took my friend instead<br />
<br />
The last remains of "Luke Cypher" were overtaken by that son of a bitch right in front of me. And I couldn't do a damn thing for him.<br />
<br />
<br />
All I could do was run away. Back into The City.<br />
<br />
And that's when I saw HIM.<br />
<br />
The Glory-Be Redfuckery Himself.<br />
<br />
Still SMOLDERING from the ass-kicking he took at the will of The Harbinger... but alive. Very much alive. Retreating like all us COMMON SIMPLE FOLK into The City. Staggering and WEAK but SO DAMN ALIVE...<br />
<br />
I ran after him. <br />
<br />
<br />
After that... things get... fuzzy. I don't remember a lot of it...<br />
<br />
something else happened<br />
<br />
but I know in my gut... that the job isn't finished<br />
<br />
I can feel it. Redlight is still alive. He got AWAY.<br />
<br />
But I'll find him.<br />
<br />
<br />
I don't CARE if the world is BURNING TO ASHES by the time I find him!! He is going to DIE and he will DIE by MY OWN HANDS AROUND HIS MISERABLE THROAT!!!!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
something has to come from this<br />
<br />
something has to be won<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
if my head would just.... stop... pounding....<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I guess there's nothing else to say for now... except that we lost.<br />
<br />
sorryAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15341487104668108798noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9141875965781301723.post-10537353355094856012014-01-07T23:39:00.000-05:002014-01-07T23:40:56.880-05:0001110100 01101000 01100101 01110010 01100101 00100000 01101001 01110011 01101110 00100111 01110100 00100000 01101101 01110101 01100011 01101000 00100000 01110100 01101001 01101101 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01100101 01111000 01110000 01101100 01100001 01101001 01101110 01101110 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01100011 01101111 01101110 01101110 01100101 01100011 01110100 01101001 01110000 01101110 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01100010 01100001rely holding and i cant risk00100000 01110011 01110100 01100001 01111001 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01101111ne spot long<br />
<br />
lis01110100 01100101 01101110 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01101101e - i don't know what the ffck is happening out there in t01101000 01100101 00100000 01110010 01100101 01100001 01101100 00100000 01110111 01101111 01110010 01101100 01100100 00100000 01001001 00100000 01100100 01101111 01101110 00100111 01110100 00100000 01100101 01110110 01100101 01101110 00100000 01101000 01100001 01110110 01100101 00100000 01100001 00100000 01100011 01101100 01110101 01100101 00100000 01110111 01101000 01100001 01110100 damn day it is but what I do know is that Redfuck screwed up and its as bad as it is good. The Brute thing that Cypher and the others were all terrified of did NOT get out but 01110011 01101111 01101101 01100101 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01000101 01001100 01010011 01000101 00100000 01100100 01101001 01100100 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01101001 01110100 00101110 00101110 00101110<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
everyone is dead<br />
<br />
if you HAVE SEE01001110 00100000 01000001 01001110 01011001 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01101111ur group... STAY THE FUCK A01010111 01000001 01011001 00100000 01000110 01010010 01001111 01001101 00100000 01010100 01001000 01000101 01001101 00100000 01000011 01000001 01010101 01010011E THEY ARE NOT THEM ALRIGHT?!! Fucking CYPHER even... paid the price and got tha01110100 00100000 00100111 01110000 01110101 01110010 01110000 01101111 01110011 01100101 00100111 00100000of his when Samael got his ass handed to him. i had hoped he'd just up and DIE already but NO. He had Cypher to fall back on. To take CONTROL of and RUN like all the other ALMIGHT "Attendents' did when that THING launched from the Tear from the NOTHING and entered 01000101 01100100 01100101 01101110 entered the city of impossibility <i>the city of echoes</i> <br />
<br />
it. tore into EVERYONE. we had a goddamn ARMY and it wasn't enou01100111 01101000 00100000 01100001 01100111 01100001 01101001 01101110 01110011 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01101001 01110100 00100000 01110111 01100001 01110011 01101110 00100111 01110100 00101110 00101110 00101110 00101110 00101110 00101110 00100000 01110111 01100101 00100000 01100100 01101001 01100100 01101110 00100111 01110100 00100000 01100101 01110110 01100101 01101110 00100000 01010011 01000011 01010010 01000001 01010100 01000011 01001000 00100000 01001001 01010100 00101110 00100000 01110000 01110010 01101111 01111000 01101001 01100101 01110011 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01101101 01100001 01100101 01101110 01100001 01100100 01110011 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01100100 01101111 01101100 01101100 01110011 0010000000100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01110000 01100001 01101100 01100101 00100000 01101101 01100101 01101110 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01101000 01101111 01110111 00100000 01101101 01100001 01101110 01111001 00100000 01000110 01010101 01000011 01001011 01010011 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01010011 01110100 01100001 01110010 00101101 01101100 01101001 01101011 01100101 00101101 01101001 01100100 01101001 01101111 01110100 01110011 00100000 01110111 01100101 01110010 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 01110010 01100101 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 01111001 00100000 01110111 01100101 01110010 01100101 00101110 00101110 00101110 00100000 01101101 01100001 01110011 01110011 01100001 01100011 01110010 01100101 01100100 00101110 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 01110010 01100101 00100000 01110111 01100101 01110010 01100101 00100000 01110011 01101111 00100000 01101101 01100001 01101110 01111001 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01110101 01110011 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00101110 00101110 00101110 00101110 00100000 01101001 00100000 01101011 01101110 01101111 01110111 00100000 01000011 01111001 01110000 01101000 01100101 01110010 00100000 01101111 01101110 01100011 01100101 00100000 01110011 01100001 01101001 01100100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01101001 01110100 01110011 00100000 01001101 01100001 01110011 01110100 01100101 01110010 00100000 01110111 01100001 01110011 00100000 01010111 01100001 01110010 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01000001 01110011 01101000 00101110 00101110 00101110 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00101100 00100000 01100110 01110010 01101111 01101101 00100000 01110111 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01001001 00100000 01110011 01100001 01110111 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 burning HOLE that was 01000101 01100100 01100101 01101110 when I was bolting out of there.... it was a very good student. some of us got.... turned. Mumbles called them Crimson Knights <i>gray skinned and eyes that burn with hellfire</i> i don't know what is happening out there but that THING is OUT there with YOU not anhd it is goddamn HELL BENT on finis01101000 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01110111 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01010010 01100101 01100100 01100110 01110101 01100011 01101011 00100000 01100010 01100101 01100111 01100001 01101110 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01100110 01110010 01100101 01100101 00100000 01101001 01110100 01110011 00100000 01001101 01100001 01110011 01110100 01100101 01110010 <i>to free He of The True End. The Brute.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
01100101 01110110 01100101 01110010 01111001 01101111nes dead. Redli01100111 01101000 01110100 01110011 00100000 01100111 01101111 01101110 01100101 00101110 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01101001 00100111 01101101 00101110 00101110 00101110 00100000 01110011 01110100 01110101 01100011 01101011 00100000 01101000 01100101 01110010 01100101 00101110 00100000 01101001 01101110 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01110011 01110100 01110101 01110000 01101001 01100100 00100000 01100110 01110101 01100011 01101011 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01100011 01101001 01110100 01111001<br />
<br />
<br />
i don't kno01110111 00100000 01101001 01100110 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100111 01110010 01100101 00100000 01100111 01100101 01110100ting this<br />
<br />
<i>the fabric continues to corrode. tattering. fraying. breaking apart. </i><br />
<br />
01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01101001 00100000 01110011 01110101 01110010 01100101 00100000 01100001 01110011 00100000 01101000 01100101 01101100 01101100 00100000 01100100 01101111 01101110 00100111 01110100 00100000 01101011 01101110 01101111 01110111 00100000 01101001 01100110 00100000 01101001 00100111 01101101 00100000 01100111 01101111 01101110 01101110 01100001 00100000 01100111 01100101t out of here<br />
<br />
<i>an entire city feeding on the Lost</i><br />
<br />
01100010 01110101 01110100 00100000 01101001 00100111 01101101 00100000 01110000 01110010 01100001 01111001 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01101001 00100111 01101101 00100000 01101110 01101111 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101111 01101111 00100000 01101100 01100001 01110100 01100101<br />
<br />
<br />
01110011 01110100 01100001 01111001 00100000 01110011 01100001 01100110 01100101 00101100 00100000 01100101 01110110 01100101 01110010 01111001 01101111 01101110 01100101<br />
<br />
01110000 01101100 01100101 01100001 01110011 01100101 God00101100 00100000 01101010 01110101 01110011 01110100 00100000 01101011 01100101 01100101 01110000 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 01101101 00100000 01100001 01101100 01101100 00100000 01110011 01100001 01100110 01100101 00101110 00101110 00101110<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>run run as fast as you can</i><br />
<br />
<br />
01101001 01110100 00100111 01110011 00100000 01101110 01101111 01110100 00100000 01100111 01101111 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01100101 01101110 01100100 00100000 01101100 01101001 01101011 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01110011 00001101 00001010 00001101 00001010<br />
<br />
01101001 01110100 00100111 01110011 00100000 01101110 01101111 01110100 00100000 01100111 01101111 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01000101 01001110 01000100 00100000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01100001 01101100 01101100 00001101 00001010<br />
<br />
01101001 01110100 00100000 01100011 01100001 01101110 00100111 01110100<br />
<br />
01101001 01110100 00100000 01101010 01110101 01110011 01110100 00100000 01100011 01100001 01101110 00100111 01110100<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>just Keep Running</i><br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15341487104668108798noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9141875965781301723.post-36324234338598476362013-12-18T00:27:00.000-05:002013-12-18T00:30:05.182-05:00It wasn't fucking CypherIt was that dick of a "Dad" of his. "Samael". The "Attendent". Bunch of glorified universe glitches claiming to be goddamn angels doesn't give them the damn right to fuck up my skull. To put me back into that goddamn PLACE. I was CALM GODDAMMIT until he decided to turn everything upside down and inside out and sideways... not that that is hard to DO when you turn the world into one of those fucking padded rooms - THEY ALL LOOK THE DAMN SAME.<br />
<br />
Sensory deprivation, in part, really. <br />
<br />
Makes the patients more keen on being friendly with their bitch nurses and the piss-shit doctors.<br />
<br />
Least I always kinda figured that was the idea. Make the crazies want you to be around them cause at least that fills the Nothing with SOMETHING, right? even if it happens to be some braindead nurse who smiles at you as if you're fucking FIVE YEARS OLD. The entire place... is maddening. If you're sane going in, you'll be questionable by the time they let you out...<br />
<br />
goddammit<br />
<br />
<br />
goddammit i did not need this shit<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
i didn't NEED to be reminded of all the garbage. All the pointless tests and fake -<i> disturbed?</i> - smiles glued in place under lying -<i> sickening yellow </i>- eyes. Samael... just turned it. Just that little bit more. Stayin g in a place like that is disturbing and nerve-wrecking as is but he just... he revved it. and it got under my skin as cleanly as a hot knife through butter. The nurses, the Doctors, the other patients that peeked in through that tiny small ass window... they were people from back then. People from that place. And a mix of new faces from now. But no matter how I screamed at them that the joke was over...<br />
<br />
I was crazy.<br />
<br />
That was the rational.<br />
<br />
No matter what I said or screamed or fought against... it was all because I was crazy.<br />
<br />
<br />
Can you even... imagine what that's like?<br />
<br />
It's like you're bleeding to death. The blood is EVERYWHERE.<br />
<br />
But the more you try to get them to SEE that you are dying, the more they just smile those smile that just SCREAM what level of NUTS they think you are. And do. Abso-fucking-lutely NOTHING.<br />
<br />
<br />
But I... may... have been able to pull through that decently enough. Might have been able to just... brush it off. Brush off all those grinning yellow eyes... even the ones that stared back at me in my refection... but what I couldn't...<br />
<br />
what I...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"...Now, now, Alex, we've been over this before. Your mind is sick, remember?"</b></i></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
...Sam came to see me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i><b><br /></b></i>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"It conjures things for you. Dark... twisted things. Painted in blood and doused in screams</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>until your very own screams echo up and down the corridors~</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Just like all the other Crazies in here.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Locked up tight and the keys thrown well away~</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Isn't it better this way, Alex?</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>My Dearest Alex...</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>A tiny cage such as this... is so very suiting of a rabid mutt like you.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>You're dangerous, you know that, don't you?</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>You're your daddy's ankle biter, after all.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>No argument there, hm?<br />You certainly inherited his Deadly Shot.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Not to mention that rather wicked temper of his~</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>He used to take some good swings at your dear ol' Ma, didn't he?<br /> </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Shouldn't have been as surprised as I was...</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>when you took a swing at me." </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
...It had been the last time we ever spoke. Just before the that damn accident that threw Sam onto one Path... and me onto another. I was scared. And angry. And frustrated. And I just... I needed someone to lash out at. To blame. To spit poison and utter things that, to this day - to this fucking MINUTE - I wish I could take back. Sam just... stood there, mostly. Looking miserable. Hurt. Taking it. Taking everything... until it tried to touch me. Tried to COMFORT ME...<br />
<br />
and I took my hand... and stung it across Sam's face.<br />
<br />
I can still... FEEL it. To this day, I can still FEEL Sam's PAIN on my own hand and I... I hate myself for it. I HATE MYSELF FOR IT. I hated myself for it THEN but I was too fucking proud - too fucking ASHAMED - to even say it. To even address it. Then there was no time, because He was there... and we all piled in and sped off in that car...<br />
<br />
right into the path of that tractor trailer<br />
<br />
<br />
i never got the chance... to tell Sam how sorry i am.<br />
<br />
<br />
i never... wanted my last words to it to be... blame.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I'd give anything to change that moment<br />
<br />
<br />
To say "I love you"<br />
<br />
to HOLD Sam instead of screaming at it.<br />
<br />
I knew Sam was just as scared as I was. I knew.<br />
<br />
<br />
I just didn't care.<br />
<br />
<br />
I'm a selfish piece of shit for that. And I'll never DO enough to crawl out of that hole.<br />
<br />
Sam deserved better than me.<br />
<br />
I told it that right from the start... <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"Can you feel it chipping away inside your skull? Gnawing away? Bit by bit?</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Peeling away all of what you are, or, rather, who you think you are.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>You've always been good at Playing Dress Up, haven't you?</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Wanting to play the part of the Hero~</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>But, at the end of the day...</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>who do you fool, Alex?</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>You were born into Blood, weren't you?</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>The badge, the costume... you know it was never you.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Not the real you. You were just playing along for the fun of it.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Smiling for the Cameras~" </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
...I don't really want to talk about it.<br />
<br />
I don't think... there's anything to talk about.<br />
<br />
<br />
I got a taste of what... "Nightscream's" specialty was.<br />
<br />
<br />
for most of you, that's all I should have to say<br />
<br />
Cypher said that, once he realized what was going on, it took him an hour or two to break through the loop to get me out. Feels... like an eternity more...<br />
<br />
<br />
he's left me alone. they all have.<br />
<br />
guess that's something to be thankful for<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"Won't you Smile for me now, Alex~?"</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b> </b></i> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15341487104668108798noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9141875965781301723.post-76640792775856730232013-12-13T22:59:00.003-05:002013-12-13T23:14:34.961-05:00CYPHER OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR THIS ISN"T FUCKING FUNNY!!!!<br />
<br />
i
told you. i TOLD you no white no lock no not goddamn ANYTHING like it
and THIS is what you do?!! am I fuckinG AMUSING YOU NOW!?! IS THAT IT??
ALL FOR A GIGGLE?! FINE! FUCKING FINE haha what a laugh i don't CARE
just open the goddamn door<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
just open the door<br />
<br />
<br />
please<br />
<br />
<br />
you
cant do this you... it isn't a joke. it isn't FUNNY i'm not crazy i'm
NOT FUCKIING CRAZY i'm CALM i swear i am i won't leave just... just get
me out of here. i can't.... I can't BE in these walls again. not this.
not this i'm not crazy i'm not im not IM NOT i thought it was a goddamn
NIGHTMARE at first but i can't... i can't wake up. what have you
done...? I TRUSTED YOU, YOU FUCK AND THIS IS WHAT YOU SHOVE DOWN MY
THROAT??! this is your choice of punishment or some shit for me for
being weak or some fuck!? you made your goddamn POINT just open... open
the damn door. i spent threeyears h ere i can't... i...<br />
<br />
you made your point just...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
no<br />
<br />
<br />
no no no no n o no NO NOTT HE FCKING WHITE COAT FUCKS!!!!! <br />
<br />
<br />
CYPHER<br />
<br />
GODDAMMIT MORNIGNSTAR GET ME OOUT OF HERE GODDAMNNIT STOP IT <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15341487104668108798noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9141875965781301723.post-89736340829543145182013-12-12T03:34:00.000-05:002013-12-13T01:36:13.917-05:00I'm surrounded by assholesBut they're right.<br />
<br />
I tried to leave like a fucking idiot. Obviously, I wasn't thinking straight. But I just got... sucker punched, to put it lightly. Had a little bit of a "moment" or ten. I figured throwing myself at Redlight, even if I knew deep down it wasn't going to stop anything, was better than just sitting around. Cause at least then I'd be DOING something...<br />
<br />
but doing something does imply accomplishing something.<br />
<br />
And I certainly wasn't going to be doing that by just... throwing in the towel.<br />
<br />
Everyone kept telling me that, but I didn't want to listen. Cause that would imply I really COULDN'T do anything but wait it out... and I was... and am... very VERY sick of waiting. Especially since the blood is just... rising higher and higher. Can almost FEEL it sloshing around my waist. The blood I spilled by deciding to get involved in this mess. The others keep telling me its not on me. That none of it is ON me... but that's something I can't believe. Death caused from inaction is just as heinous as taking that life yourself. I used to see it time and time again on the job. Situations where... if someone had just done something - done ANYTHING - it probably would have saved lives... but no. Too worried about their own skin to do that, aren't they? Would rather video it and post it on youtube for the hits than actually stand up and DO something... stand against someone...<br />
<br />
Anyway. Cypher stopped me from actually leaving.<br />
<br />
He gave me a choice, actually. The gentleman's asshole that he is.<br />
<br />
One, I be a good little Nobody and stay on Lockdown in my room until I let "sense back into that thick head of [mine]".<br />
<br />
Two, I continue to try to leave, so I'd remain on Lockdown. In a Loop. Of my room.<br />
<br />
<br />
Opening a door only to find yourself reentering the room you're leaving gets old FAST.<br />
<br />
<br />
Cypher's not going to let me out of here anytime soon. He has enough to worry about without adding me as a flight risk, and I don't blame him for it. I'm supposed to be here to help the issue, not split his attention another way... which is probably ANOTHER reason why Redlight was doing all this shit. I know I've been... quiet... since my last outburst. But I didn't.... I wasn't in the right mind to talk to all of you. Wasn't in the right mind LAST time. I shouldn't have written that. I shouldn't have. But I did. And now Redlight KNOWS just how much he's getting under my skin. Oh, he assumed before, I'm sure. But now he knows.<br />
<br />
I've had two more videos hit my email account since then.<br />
<br />
One was a video... of the house Sam and I bought together. The house that we... were supposed to raise our family in. The house that we abandoned along with the rest of our lives when... when He came. When every second was haunted by the thought of seeing that... "face" again. That sightless gaze. everything elongated. Stretched. He... He owned that house, by the end. It wasn't ours. It was all His. Every corner. Every dark spot. Every time we turned around... we were haunted by that feeling. that CRAWLING. that clawing in our guts... at just the thought of seeing Him again...<br />
<br />
Seeing those rooms again.... they almost seemed normal. All decorated... with someone elses things. Someone else's life. The camera rolling over pictures on the wall. A little girl posing in a ballerina outfit. Cute girl. Wide, green eyes. Probably twelve. Thirteen. Somewhere in there. Then the camera went to a picture of her twin brothers in matching soccer outfits. Gaps in wide grins. Red hair. Just like the hair on the bride in a wedding shot. Nice looking couple, though he was obviously a lot more laid back than her. Next shot told me why. She was a lawyer. He was a stay at home dad. Bit of a... chef extraordinaire, I guess.<br />
<br />
The camera took my over school photos. Vacation pictures. Small trinkets, no doubt souvenirs from this place and that...<br />
<br />
Then the microphone began picking up... noises. crying. strained breathing. Before the view turned... and spanned across the couple. Bound to chairs and gagged. Terrified. Confused. Already bruised. Already bleeding. And their kids... nowhere in sight. Morgan's voice starting off screen. Telling me... how I was either one of two things. Either I was a coward - whimpering and hiding away while letting others take my place. Or I was sitting back and watching... because I was enjoying it. Because I was... just like him. Going on about the feeling he got... from dominating another human. Like a High of some sort. Telling me that I had to know the feeling. That they knew where I'd come from. How I'd grown up. How my old man had trained me. How I already had blood on my hands before I'd even got out of Detroit... and now that blood was just... soaking me. From head to toe.<br />
<br />
When Morgan stepped out... he had the kids with him. The twins were knocked down to the floor in front of their parents. Tied together.<br />
<br />
The girl... stood beside Morgan. Emerald eyes staring straight ahead.<br />
<br />
And a red ribbon in her hair.<br />
<br />
Morgan handed her a jerry can without another word. And she took it as if on autopilot. Stepping up... and turning it over on her brothers. They squirmed in their bonds as it soaked through but got nowhere. And once the can was empty... Morgan handed her another. Which she splashed over her parents. I could practically smell that stench as I watched them all twist and wriggle.and thrash. Knowing what was coming next... and being completely powerless to do anything about it. Least until the can was empty... and the next thing the girl did was take off all the gags. One by one by one by one. The pleads and demands were instantanious... but it all fell on deaf ears as Morgan grabbed the girl and pulled her back over to him. Out of harms way, I guess, before handing her a set of matches.<br />
<br />
Once sparked, she tossed the small flame onto her own brothers.<br />
<br />
The fire burst out. And so did the screaming.<br />
<br />
The parents screaming in anguish and horror as their boys screamed and cried in agony.<br />
<br />
Until the flames crossed over to where the parents were tied up. Then it was nothing but agony.<br />
<br />
Morgan left with the girl, and all the rest in Red. The house burning behind them. He took the camera personally as he walked. Staring into it as he told me if I ever really stopped... to compare Dr. Marsh - Proxy Bob - to Sam. Going on about how my choice in allies really were no different from my choice in enemy. But that.... since I seem so hypocritical with it, then I wouldn't mind them playing the same trick on Alicia.<br />
<br />
<br />
Alicia.<br />
<br />
<br />
Her only damn crime... is that her family bought our old house.<br />
<br />
And now she... they.... they sent me another video. I don't really want to get into it but... Alicia was their new tool. They put her into a white dress. Barefoot. Still with that red bow in her hair...<br />
<br />
Morgan still did his.... own routine. That sword. The rape. Always the same. The same pleads. Screams. Cries.<br />
<br />
then there was her<br />
<br />
<br />
and afterward... i was sent a small clip of her... released from the Red. when she got back control. knowing what she'd done. knowing everything... just like Sam did... just like... Dr March does...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
her screaming... just keeps echoing in here.<br />
<br />
just keeps... echoing....<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
odd, really. I don't remember the walls being white in here.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15341487104668108798noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9141875965781301723.post-40480448625940501192013-12-03T21:51:00.000-05:002013-12-03T23:00:34.247-05:00sam wassn't a monster.<br />
<br />
<br />
i am<br />
<br />
<br />
i am... for doing NOTHING. for just SITTING HERE and LETTING him... butcher them like this. i didn't want this. this wasn't the deal. this wasn't how it was supposed to GO GODDAMMITT!! WHY DO PEOPLE DIE FOR ME??! WHY?? Why when it's ME that you want, you STUPID RED FUCK!??!! JUST COME AND GET ME!! TORTURRE ME!! no tthem.<br />
<br />
<br />
WHy them...?<br />
<br />
<br />
the first video... was on the 13th. a school. AN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL YOU SICK FUCKSS! They were KIDS! Class after class of KIDS just .. butchered. slaves in Red kept anyone from leaving as that BITCH Morgan... worked his way through the schooll, one by one. ssome of them... were cut clean in half. guts everywhere on the floor. others were... beheaded. others had that... blade driven straight through them. others... mostly the ones that tried to run... had all their limbs cut off. Just left them. left them to bleed out while they... cried... and screamed for their moms and dads and I just... some of them... i,... i swore i saw Leo among them but i know... i know that's just,... that's not possible. but i heard his screams just as clear in my head as every single kid. teacher. the secretaries and principle... even the janitors... were all focused on. one by one by one by one...<br />
<br />
there was... one woman. a teacher. during a pause amongst the blood and crying and screaming... using her own body as a barrier in a doorway. her students obviously on the other side by the sounds of crying. she begged Morgan... for mercy for the children. not herself. just the children. Sam would have done that, Sam....<br />
<br />
for the love of God, they were just <i>babies</i>...<br />
<br />
<br />
I watched... for what felt like my lifetime. somehow i wound up sitting, though i don't remember that. i couldn't... think... or say... anything. it was like watching a bad horror movie, and you're just... waiting for the heroes to show up. to stop it. to just make it fucking STOP... and once it... clicks... that that was real. That that... really happened....<br />
<br />
i threw up<br />
<br />
and then i ran<br />
<br />
Cypher... followed me to my room. Telling me how I should have expected it. should have beenn.... prepared for it. But how do you prepare for that?? HOW? it wasn;t supposed to be this way. I swore to PROTECT the people, not be the REASON they get... cut apart...<br />
<br />
He... told me not to talk about it. That it would just... prove to Red-Fuck that he was hitting the right buttons.<br />
<br />
<br />
so i kept my mouth shut.<br />
<br />
i didn't say ONE FUCKING THING.<br />
<br />
<br />
but it didn't stop<br />
<br />
<br />
another video on the 17th. this one was... at a church during Sunday Mass. packed full of believers. the choir was singing... right up until Morgan booted his way in. and beheaded the first person he saw. A man. mid-fifties. He dropped like a sack of potatos... and his head was kicked down the center alley like a soccer ball. Splattering its way down and eventually rolling to a stop at the steps up front. Everything... came to a deathly silence. Shock. Disbelief. Then... raw panic and screaming. a rush for exits that were already blocked... and, above it, Morgan yelled for the choir to sing. He... told them... that if they SANG they would LIVE. And... they did. they lot of them... started singing... even as Morgan's blade reaped death after death. same as the school. One by one. Making sure the camera caught each one. For me. each death... that was on my hands. they wanted me to see it. watch it. feel it. and i... did. i couldn't not watch as every member of the church was cut down, save the choir and the padre... and then he started cutting down the choir. their songs turning to screams and pleads that... he keep his word.... again and again, "you said" "you said"...<br />
<br />
just like i swore to Serve and Protect, ain't it?<br />
<br />
He slaughtered them like he'd done the rest, just.... blood on white gowns... blood on stained glass... on wooden floors and carvings of angels... all just... painted red until the last scream stopped and the camera turned focused in on the padre. the last one alive. Lying on the floor. cut up and bleeding out, but not dead. not dead yet, though he probably wished he was when Morgan started... ripping his robes off...<br />
<br />
the next one... was at an orphanage.<br />
<br />
<br />
The one after that... was a community center. they were having a charity event...<br />
<br />
<br />
after that... was a hospital.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
and every place... every person... who asked why. who... begged for mercy... every child and doctor and wife and husband and teacher and INNOCENT...<br />
<br />
Morgan told them who's fault it was.<br />
<br />
mine. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"How about you beg for ALEX to save you?"</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
i can't.... i can't get their voices out of my head.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
i can't make it STOP. It has to fucking STOP it's ENOUGh it's...<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
today... an hour ago... they sent a new one.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
they tracked down every member... of my old team. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
i started screaming when i recognized the first house. Annie's house. Cypher grabbed me from behind. fought to keep hold on me and slammed me back againsst a wall. trying to make... me focus. to snap me back. but i just... it was on the screen. SHE and HER FAMILY were on the FUCKING SCREEN and she... </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
they tortured her.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
told her the same things until she... screamed for me to help her just like they all had.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Until her family... was screaming too. He tortured... Annie... until she was near the point of no return. Near it, but still aware. And that's when Morgan... turned his attention to her family. Her husband and three boys. Andrew, 17. Sean, 15. And Chris, 12. Morgan... castrated the two youngest... and then he raped Andrew. The eldest. And then raped the father. Each tortured during and after... until the last one alive was Annie. Spitting blood and cursing Morgan...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
and cursing me.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
before she received the same treatment.<br />
<br />
only... her final death came when he... he took her skull and smashed it into the floor until it... broke open. Until I... i could see her... brains through the mush of blood and bone. Digging his... fingers in and... cracking it open all the way. he just... didn't stop. Death wasn't even ENOUGH he just... started mutilating every part of her and... and then stringing her up. Stringing them ALL up like turning the entire famliy into some... ddemented art display...<br />
<br />
<br />
showing me the finished product of my own... my own actions. my oown... inactions...<br />
<br />
<br />
it was Annie.<br />
<br />
it was ANNIE!! how could i...? how could i have... left her to that...? to suffer through that...?! to MORGAN!?! HOW?!!<br />
<br />
<br />
how could i have... left them all... to thatt...? </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
the next house i saw on the screen.... was Cho's. his... heavily-pregnant wife. And his mother-in-law and father-in-law. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
then Patrick's place. he was... woken from bed with his fiance.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
then Madeleine... she'd... just come home from a date, it looked like...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
They left Jacob for last.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
My partner.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
A widower. Only had his teenage daughter left.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Morgan... took his daughter away first. made him listen to her screaming from her bedroom... until the screams and cries got weaker and weaker. Jacob was crying. Cursing and crying. Begging for his daughter. And when they took him in to see her, they took the camera too... and i... </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
i had never seen so much blood from one person.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
covering everything. splattered everywhere. dripping down. Grace was lying on the bed. naked. obviously raped. body torn open. dead eyes staring up at the ceiling... where my own name had been smeared in her blood...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Jacob started sscreaming. collapsing to the floor.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
then it was his turn</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
and i just... i...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
it's my fault</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
i've watched... every single face. heard every word. watched every death.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
too much death</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
it's TOO MUCH FUCKING DEATH</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
i'm not worth this</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
i'm not</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
i... </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
i can't do this anymore</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
i can't WATCH this anymore</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
i can't.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
i can't... </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15341487104668108798noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9141875965781301723.post-15847363255984134342013-11-29T01:00:00.000-05:002013-12-02T15:16:25.544-05:00Right. So. We lied.Guess I should have updated this sooner than just now cause I was SUPPOSED to tell you about Banks, but... well. Shit happens. Especially in this line of work. <i>Especially</i> when you could start a traveling sideshow with the kind of company you keep. But anyway. I shouldn't bitch. They're good people. Just fucked up, and really, aren't we all more than a bit fucked up? These people just let it overflow to the outside instead of letting it bubble up inside...<br />
<br />
<br />
But right. David Banks then...<br />
<br />
I knew he'd be one of the more... difficult obstacles in my way. Cypher and the others knew it just as much. After all, with how much, CYPHER hated the Dress-Up Plan, we could assume that Banks would be just as livid at someone else impersonating Nightscream. For a bit, I think I NEARLY convinced him... then I successfully ruined that during ONE BAD NIGHT after I had encountered that stupid NEST thing... crazy fuck still gives me nightmares...<br />
<br />
Cypher was trying his best to stay involved and "between" any association and chats between Banks and I. Trying his best to work with whatever material I managed to give him. I won't lie and say I was GOOD at being Nightscream. In fact, I'd say I was damn horrible at it. Sure, I got the hang of the speech after a while and I'm learning how to type forever-posts... but it still wasn't right. Wasn't GOOD ENOUGH. And, eventually, Banks got sick of my attempts and tracked me down. I was stupid enough to be out for a WALK of all things (I like walks. Sue me.), but even with Tiger as my protection, I still got snatched. I really don't remember much about that. Just the taser hitting me. The current. And then I kinda drifted in and out. I remember being tied up at one point. Memory is a damn crap shoot, but I THINK I was in the trunk of a car.<br />
<br />
When I finally DID come to, I wasn't tied anymore. And I wasn't in anything that was moving. I was just... left lying sprawled out on a floor. A cold, concrete, basement floor. Made my joints feel like CEMENT when I first tried to move. Pushing myself partly up as all my muscles complained at being forced back to their jobs again. Back cracking. Knees. Made me feel old as shit.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"Hello."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I jerked up. A mistake that I instantly regretted as all that ache in my muscles just burned more. Still, I didn't let myself be distracted. Trying to blink my vision into adjusting behind the mask I still wore, I eventually managed to locate my only company: A shadow sitting in the dark at the other side of the room. Even though the voice had sounded calm, there was still an edge to it. A warning of a very present danger. A cliff's edge.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I was 99% sure I knew who it belonged to.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And if I was right... there was going to be WAR.</div>
<br />
<br />
Of course, my first demand was to know where the HELL I was. Which only spurred Banks to invite me to guess. Saying how he'd be interested to hear if I <i>could.</i> Of course, I would have rathered be DEAD than play his game, so I just swapped my demand. Asking where Tiger was. What he'd DONE with him. After all, I did like the Samurai. He had honor, if nothing else. And he was one of the few that I was around all the time. Him and Mumbles. Like the mime and me, Tiger and I tended to talk a lot.... though Tiger was always more stand-off-ish. In any case, if BANKS had done something to Tiger, that just gave me another reason to put a hole into his head. As if I didn't have enough reasons already.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"Tiger's fine. You might not be up on everything, </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>but I'm cutting down on my unneeded murder count."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"Yet another box checked under the title of Thankless Saint, </b></i><b>Banks</b><i><b>? </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>How charitable of you. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Taking your jacket right off your back to give to a homeless man</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b> and nursing broken birds back to health too, I expect?"</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"...How did you... oh. Sarcasm."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>"You know what, FUCK YOU!"</i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
I'd crossed half the distance of the dark room before I even realized it. I could HEAR my blood pumping in my ears and I could FEEL my fists shaking at my sides. Yelling at him, in probably what wasn't my smartest moment. Telling him how I knew what he was. What he did. And that he wasn't fooling ANYONE with that goddamn ACT of his. The whole "I've changed and I want to be better" routine. That I sure as hell didn't believe it for one FUCKING SECOND so he could shove it all up his ass and tuck it around the corner.<br />
<br />
That shadow of a man stood. Movements slow and controlled, but wound tight like a spring as he came closer. Nearly circling.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"I could say the same for you."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And, in one fluid motion he ripped off my hood and mask. I tried ducking low and sweeping to the side, but it came off all the same. Sam and I may have similar builds, but other than that, our hair and eyes... even the shape of our faces were different. Sam having auburn hair and silver eyes. Me with blonde and blue. As if he even HAD to rip the mask off though. I guess he'd just been making a point. Sick of staring at a bad joke of someone he once knew...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I just snarled at him.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b> "You're not ruining this, do you HEAR ME? </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>I will not LET you RUIN this! </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>It's the one thing I CAN do; since you let Sam DIE, it's the ONLY thing I can do!"</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
He finally stopped. Looking a bit more puzzled, but held tight behind a determined eye.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"...I should know you, shouldn't I? </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>This isn't an act of opportunity. Sam meant something to you.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b> Suppose I won't need the nipple clamps then."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
All I could feel... was the heat. The boil. The SCREAMING ANGER that I was barely keeping hold on.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"I don't give a FUCK if you know me or not!</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>None of this has ANYTHING to do with you anymore. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>You had your chance and you SCREWED IT UP... </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>unless, of course, you were just clearing out one used up pet so you could get another. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Then I guess the only screw up you did was showing your face to ME!" </b></i></div>
<br />
<br />
And I let all that BOILING... out in one single, nasty hook to his jaw. Slicing across it with the blade I'd triggered above my knuckles. He hadn't bothered dodging it, which is why he had to sidestep to subtly catch his balance. I guess he hadn't thought I'd pack that much of a punch. But of course he retaliated. There was only a pause that the blood from the gash began running down his cheek and throat... and then he grew tired of being calm, I guess. Taking a swing at me. Fast and precise. My own anger had put me in FAR too close to him, but I still managed to mostly dodge the first punch. Barely getting clipped by it. The second, because of my messy retreat, dropped like a hammer. It would have sent me onto my back, if there hadn't been a shelving unit there. Digging into my back, catching me even as I cringed. Shaking my head clear.<br />
<br />
There's a snarl in David's voice when I heard him next. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"Do I really need to mention that I'm being nice?</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>You know full well what I could do to you. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>What I <i>want </i>to do to you. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>But instead of being grateful for the fluke of events </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>that's lead to me not leaving your body on the side of the road, </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>you insult one of the few genuine things I have ever done. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>I don't care who you are, no one does that.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>So shut up. Or I'll stop talking."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b> "'Grateful'...?</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"You rape the love of my life and then watch it commit suicide... </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>and you want me to be GRA----TEFUL?!</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>And don't give me ANY fucking BULLSHIT about goddamn CONSENT. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Sam was SHREDDED!</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>There WAS no FUCKING consent </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>so you can just GO TO FUCKING HELL!!"</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
For a brief moment... he just stared at me. Wide eyed. Stunned.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"...Alex..."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Then there was a blink, and his entire demeanor changed. Shifted. Looking at me with fresh eyes. Nearly hesitant. Unsure. As if he'd crossed a line somewhere and hadn't even realized it. Then, slowly, he took out his switchblade... and placed it down on the floor.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"I didn't rape him. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>I barely touched him after that one time. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Obviously he was in no state to give consent, but I never slept with him. Not once. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>You don't have to believe me. But I didn't. And I wouldn't. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Even monsters have standards, though most see them as arbitrary. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>I imagine you know that. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>That was a hell of a punch. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Law enforcement background? You have a stance like you do. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>I don't know whether or not Sam mentioned that. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>I... I had trouble getting through some of his posts."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"Heh. Sam never mentioned... much... about me, did it?</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Special Agent Alex Prescott, FBI, Banks. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Least I was, back when SHIT made sense. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Luckily though... some of that is still useful. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Like profiling fuckers like you. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Like knowing... KNOWING the kind that stop. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>And the kind that... don't. That never would. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>That NEVER DO unless someone STOPS them. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Unless bullet or blade or CAGE stops them....</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>I knew about you LONG before Slender Man ever came around, Banks.<br />We had FILES on the bullshit - the slaughters and rapes - you left behind you.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>I spent MANY years imagining what it would be like when we took you out.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>What you'd really look like. Sound like. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Never figured I'd wind up just another play thing for you.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Another file to add to the stack.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>That was why you brought me down here, right?</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>To torture me? SKIN me? Rape me?</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>You're a SICK FUCK, Banks.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>And it churns my stomach to think of you even laying<br />ONE GODDAMN FINGER on Sam.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>You had no right.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Sam was BETTER than you.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Better than MOST.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>And you...</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>What did you tell Sam at the end?<br />When it was too broken to fight anymore and you took it in?</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Did you... did you say it would FEEL BETTER from it?</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Did you claim you were HELPING?<br />Whispering everything you FUCKERS do to make your victims</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>explain away all the pain and SICKNESS they feel inside?</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>How far did you push it, Banks?</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>How MUCH did you TAKE from MY SAM?!!</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>...I gotta admit, though... </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>You have good foresight, if nothing else. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Taking my weapon. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b> My Glock.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>You'd look good with a hole between your eyes. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>The only FIX for people like you."</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Silence stretched for a very long minute as I watched the rage BOIL through David's system... and as he shifted, I straightened. Thinking that, if he wanted to level a punch or two further at me, then like HELL I was going to be knocked DOWN by them... but he pivoted instead. And cracked his fist against the wall. Then he punched it a second time, then a third. Then one more time after that. Until that boil came down to a simmer. <br />
<b> </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<br />
<b>"I'll have to keep you a couple days. Figure out a way to keep you out of this."</b><br />
<br />
<br />
<i><b> "Like HELL.</b></i><br />
<i><b>I told you this has NOTHING to do with you, Banks. </b></i><br />
<i><b>You think just because you directed your punches at a damn wall instead of my jaw, </b></i><br />
<i><b>that you've PROVEN something? That you have ANY kind of power over anything here? </b></i><br />
<i><b>You don't get to CONTROL me like you controlled Sam. </b></i><br />
<i><b>Even as we STAND HERE death-glaring each other, Cypher is tracking me down. </b></i><br />
<i><b>And he's going to be even worse 'company' than ME when he gets here. </b></i><br />
<i><b> So do yourself a favor... and get lost."</b></i><br />
<br />
<br />
<b>"<i>Why</i> is Cypher helping you?! </b><br />
<b>He of all people has to know how Sam would <i>feel </i>about this." </b><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Like a Hurricane meeting a Tornado. David was furious. I wasn't much better. It was taking everything IN ME not to turn the argument physical. My hands clenched so tight with the effort that I could FEEL them shaking. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"Of course he KNOWS!</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b> And so do /I/. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>But SAM isn't HERE anymore. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Sam was BARELY here at all after that Red-FUCK got done with it.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b> See. I may hate your guts, Banks. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>I may be standing here HOPING I get a chance one day</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b> to put you down like the rabid dog that you are. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>But that Red BITCH is worse. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Ten million times WORSE. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Sam was BEYOND obliterated and I will. Not. Walk. Away. From. THAT. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Not all of us are willing to just sit on the sidelines and WATCH the world burn, BANKS. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Not all of us can FORGIVE AND FORGET what that FUCKER did to Sam. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>And if I can use this little ACT </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>to flush that bastard out so Cypher can have the chance he needs to END this... </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>then I'm damn well going to DO IT.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b> I'm the bait. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Cypher's the trap. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>End of story."</b></i></div>
<br />
<b>"Then he's just going to find some different bait isn't he?"</b><br />
<br />
<br />
<i><b>"Oh yeah? WHO?"</b></i><br />
<br />
<br />
<b>"...I could do it. </b><br />
<b>It's not quite as evocative as Sam, but it would do the trick."</b><br />
<br />
<br />
<i><b> "HA! That's rich.</b></i><br />
<i><b> All you've been doing for MONTHS is HIDE,</b></i><br />
<i><b> and NOW you want to actually get off your ass and do something? Why?"</b></i><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b> "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I just crossed my arms. Flat-out telling him that he was deluding himself. That it would never work. Pointing out that even Sam had said that Red-Fuck was ruled by his own emotions, his own pride and RAGE. Explaining that THAT was what we were targeting with all this. THAT was the sweet spot - the one thing that could set off the asshole's fuse - and it was something that ONLY the image of 'Nightscream' would be able to get to this quickly. Ripping into that feeling of FAILURE and letting Red-Fuck work himself up into a frenzy. He had done EVERYTHING he could to destroy Sam in ways that I sure as Hell can't even begin to imagine...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
and I intended to make him believe that HIS WORST just wasn't GOOD ENOUGH. That Sam CONQUERED it. Rose OVER it. And was coming back to KICK some arrogant ass. I intended to make him ENRAGED. To throw caution and reason away so that he could manifest... and it could all be over. Sam would have JUSTICE, which was a small token, really, at the end of so much suffering...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
It's all I can do.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And I sure as HELL wasn't going to let BANKS get in my way. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Pointing out that all Redlight ever did to HIM was to abandon his loyalty. Not exactly something he could fail at. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
But Banks, the arrogant ass, wasn't having any of it.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"Then find someone else to be Nightscream. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>There are plenty of people with his build.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b> And it's not like they could impersonate him any worse."</b><i><b><br /> </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"That's not an option."</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"You doing it isn't an option either.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>You're throwing away ALL of his sacrifices."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<i><b>"...So I should throw some OTHER poor idiot into the line of fire instead, right?</b></i><br />
<i><b>This was my idea. </b></i><br />
<i><b>If shit goes wrong and Red-Fuck figures out he was coned </b></i><br />
<i><b>before Cypher can do his thing... </b></i><br />
<i><b>the BEST outcome is a quick death. </b></i><br />
<i><b>Rips out my heart or something. </b></i><br />
<i><b>But at worst...</b></i><br />
<br />
<i><b>...No. I'm not going to subject someone else to that. </b></i><br />
<i><b>My plan. My pain, if it happens that way. </b></i><br />
<i><b>Sam has already suffered WAY too much for my sake...</b></i><br />
<i><b>I'm not going to make someone else suffer for me too."</b></i><br />
<br />
<br />
<b>"</b><b>...Sam will come back from the dead and kill me if I let you."</b><i><b></b></i><br />
<i><b><br /></b></i>
<i><b><br /></b></i>
<i><b>"...You're really just giving me more reasons to go through with this."</b></i><br />
<i><b><br /></b></i>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Surprisingly... he chuckled at that. Looking at me with an odd expression that I couldn't quite place before he looked down to his switchblade on the floor... and kicked it over to me with the toe of his boot. Posture nearly relaxed. Nearly. Carefully, I bent and picked it up. Never taking my eyes off of him. Expecting the trap. But I straightened with it, and he still hadn't moved. Just watching me.</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"Not a glock, but it will do in a pinch. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>If I have to die... I'd rather it be with that. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>But you should know... that you're wrong about me. At least, partially.</b><br />
<b>Because something did stop me."</b><br />
<br />
<br />
<b><i>"And what was THAT?"</i></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Really was NOT in the mood for his games anymore.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><i> </i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><i> </i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i> </i>"Earlier, you said something around the lines of 'back when the world made sense'.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>An understandable sentiment. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Most people would assume it was because of the death </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>and the otherworldly entities. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>But for reasons that are probably more me than you, I don't think so. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Faceless men? Weird. Difficult. But you could deal with it. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>But with him gone... the world loses all meaning. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Sometimes it feels like not even gravity works the same any more. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Tell me Alex, of the people you've profiled, how many were married? </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Take that number and I imagine that you could find some good reasons why they did. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Power, a good cover, money. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Now tell me. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Why did I marry Ronan?"</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b> "Legacy.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>When a serial killer is as successful as you. As good as you. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>They tend to do one of three things. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Start killing more often, and eventually trip up and get caught. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Perform a finale.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b> Something huge as, usually, a suicide mission. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>While leaving enough proof behind to prove he was responsible for everything. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Or, in your case... pass down the baton. Make a chain. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Create a Legacy. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Hardest option to pull off. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Gotta give you credit for that. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Marriage is good for trust building. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>After that, it's only time."</i></b></div>
</div>
<br />
<br />
He nearly lost his composure at that. Expression contorting in rage for a brief second before he latched the reins back on. Taking a breath. Calming down again.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"Ronan's an unconventional choice, don't you think? </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Hardly a serial killer type. Not saying he wasn't capable, because he was. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>But... well his work ethic was off. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>He'd hardly enjoy it, and to be perfectly honest </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>I'd never been able to convince him of something he didn't already want.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b> Plus, he was just as old as me. Weight's beginning to be an issue. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>He was attempting to become sober, </b><br />
<b>but there were still nights where he couldn't see straight. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>I have a lot of young things I have a decent control over. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Lots of potential. Lots of blank space. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Why Ronan?"</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"So what's the alternative then? </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>You fell in love and saw the error in your ways, </b></i><br />
<i><b>so you decided to become a shining, smiling prince? </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>This isn't Beauty and the Fucking Beast.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Don't forget, Banks, I've seen your work up-close and personal.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>I know your record like the back of my hand.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Least for the shit we managed to FIND OUT about.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>People like you don't change. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>They don't. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>It's a snake pit. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>You fall in. You get bit.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b> There's no climbing out..." </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"You talk about me as if I'm not human. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>As if I am not full of flaws and inconsistencies. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>As if I am so wonderfully sure in my ways that I never have need of doubt. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>And even if that were true. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Even if I was so unchangeable... I died with Ronan. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>She might as well have shot me in the head too, </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>because the world was upended in that moment. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Do you understand that? </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Because I think you're the only one who can."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I stared straight back at him. My glare feeling more like a frown as everything tossed and turned inside my head. My own logic wasn't adding up to a perfect picture in my head. Besides... I didn't really believe my own accusations. Oh, I wanted to. But I couldn't. Not deep down. Not without being the biggest hypocrite on the damn planet. I knew people changed. Most didn't WANT to... but they could. If they made the choice to. Sam, after all, changed from a Samaritan to being one of the most brutal, cruel, ruthless serial killers I'd ever known... going so far as to go one so poetically about the BEAUTY of killing... of murder...<br />
<br />
And even me. I fought took and nail to get out of the Family Business back in Detroit. I actually had to take refuge with an uncle of mine out in New Jersey just to get AWAY from it. Which only brought Hell on his house, but my uncle was a honest to God GOOD MAN... and I was a kid. So he stood up for me. And was beaten to the last inches of his life. His eyes couldn't even OPEN anymore, they were so black and purple and swollen. They left him to die from internal bleeding - dragging me out the door by my hair. I can still kinda remembered what he sounded like... when he was trying to say my name amongst a mouthful of blood and teeth.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
That was when I chose... to go against everything I'd been raised in. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
There's always a choice...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"...Tell me the truth, Banks. I deserve the truth.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b> I loved Sam. And, despite everything it did... I still love it even now. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>The fact I was TOO DAMN SLOW getting out. That if I had just... gotten to it. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Maybe things would have been...</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>I could HEAR Sam screaming with every word on that damn blog. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Nothing it wrote after Red-Fuck was ever without agony. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>You had to have---</b></i></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>...I deserve to know what happened between you two. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>I NEED to know the truth. Whatever it is. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>If you..."</b></i><br />
<br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I clenched my jaw. Unwilling to say anymore.<br />
<br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"...You say you've seen my files."</b><br />
<br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
David got... eerily calm at that point. Walking up to me before lifting a hand. Tilting my chin up. Voice barely a whisper. Almost sounding... sympathetic. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"Then you would know that I'm not a liar.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>A year ago, not only would I have done it,</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>I would have stood here in front of you and bragged about it. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>I would tell you every single detail, knowing that while it tore you apart inside,</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>you wouldn't be able to stop listening. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>But that was a year ago.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Not even monsters can stay the same in the world, even if they try. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Things push and pull until everything is unrecognizable. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>I did have thoughts. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>I'll admit that to you. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Though they were far more based in sentimentality than you might expect.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b> But I never touched him. Never. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Sam's account was pretty accurate, minus some personal moments. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>But again, nothing happened. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>That's the truth."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I listened.<br />
<br />
I listened until he was done... and, even as I swatted his hand away, I believed him. I didn't say it. I didn't apologize for accusing him. Or hitting him. I didn't WANT to believe him... but I did. My glare hitting the wall instead. The floor. The ceiling. Anywhere but at him. The minutes dragging out, but it wasn't really all that uncomfortable a silence. More as if... letting things settle.<br />
<br />
Except... there was one other thing that I needed to know... even though it tore my heart apart to say it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"...How did Sam do it?" </b></i></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"...Slit his wrists in the bathtub. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Quick, painless, and thorough...</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>He made absolute certain he'd be dead before I could get there.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>I burned the body."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
I felt that BOIL begin around. That ITCH that gets going under my skin... so I started pacing. It was the only thing I could do to try to get rid of the tension - the desire to HIT something... only it didn't work this time. Though I settled for the wall as a target. Damn near shattered my knuckles, but I barely felt it. Already on a rant. Half yelling. Half grieving. I went on about how it was an oxy-damn-moron. Sam committing suicide. People like SAM don't commit suicide - they're the ones that go on rants for HOURS about how there's ALWAYS a rope if you're willing to grab it. That there's ALWAYS a light at the end of the tunnel. That things get BETTER if you give them the chance to. Sam used to act as a part-time guidance councilor at its school because the kids preferred talking to IT rather than someone who barely gave a damn behind a desk. I can't count the number of times it came home all worked up because this kid was cutting or that kid was withdrawing from everything...<br />
<br />
Sam cared. Sam thought life was WORTH sticking through, through good and bad. Used to call it a roller coaster. Throwing the coaster off the track wasn't an option. You rode it out. Sometimes it was fun. Sometimes it was scary. But you're strapped in for the ride, so you might as well throw your arms into the air.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"...Sam wasn't that type. It never gave up. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Not with anything. Or on anybody... </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>That Red-Fuck needs to suffer. And Die. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>No one does this to my family. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>NO ONE."</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"Well we're agreed on one thing.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>If I let you out, if I help you on this, you better make him suffer. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>For all of us."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /><i><br />"...If you help me sell this, I will.</i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Help me sell this, Banks. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>And we'll take that son of a bitch DOWN."</i><br /><br /><br />"Then I suppose I was surprised to find Sam underneath that hood."<br /><br /><br /><i>"...Yeah. I guess you were."</i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
We talked for a while after that. Turned out he had me down in a basement in the middle of nowhere in Ohio. The very same building that Banks himself was taken to as a kid and held captive there for eight years. The very same building that the local authorities found the skinned remains of one "Mr. Dubois". It was abandoned and well off the beaten trail... but I knew Cypher would find it soon enough. Even if he had to call in to his 'Dad' for the info. And, once that maniac burst through the front door.... I knew he'd be more likely to eat Banks' kidneys than stop and listen for a moment. So I told Banks it would probably be better for him to leave completely and come back around later, least until Cypher found me in one piece. He's nearly creepily possessive, but that has to do with Sam, not me. I guess he figures I'm his responsibility or some bullshit like that. In any case, he would be more willing to listen first and shoot later if Banks himself wasn't in the line of sight, so that's what we did.<br />
<br />
Banks left. And I waited.<br />
<br />
And, of course, just like I figured... when the entire team burst through the front door AND windows AND walls... they were looking to shoot to kill. Half expected them to accidentally shoot ME, but we avoided that somehow. And, yeah, Cypher took a hell of a lot of convincing that nothing happened. And even more convincing to make him let Banks get involved with the whole scheme.<br />
<br />
Cypher was DEFINITELY considering pulling back on the whole thing and just throwing me in a Labyrinth. I could see that little thought ricocheting around in his head. Made me want to pin something OFF of that skull of his to get him to focus. So I did. Probably the best use that mug had had in YEARS. <br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
Eventually... we all got on the same page. First thing Banks did was help me write our "Fake Encounter".<br />
<br />
And it all worked.<br />
<br />
It goddamn WORKED...<br />
<br />
<br />
It should be over by now. But it's not. So we just gotta keep moving forward. It's taken a while to get this shit up, but now you'd be pretty much caught up on how things really... came about, I guess. Things have been fucking NUTS here. Have a whole heap of... what would you call them? They're made of the same goop that Cypher is made from. We have a bunch here, all protecting Proxy Bob. Guess I'll let HIM explain that shit, cause I have no idea what the hell....<br />
<br />
<br />
That's it for now. I really hope I can get more than an hours sleep tonight...<br />
<br />
been having some weird ass dreams.<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15341487104668108798noreply@blogger.com45tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9141875965781301723.post-62323295690228877932013-11-21T01:02:00.000-05:002013-11-21T01:02:58.551-05:00Just BusinessWhen I first met Cypher... I'd already been spending every waking minute I had digging into what is so cutely called the "Slenderverse" or "Fearverse" or whatever the hell term you want to use. I was never much of a reader, but this... new ambition of mine turned me into one. Every blog that I could get my cursor on. Every sighting or possible sighting or even just... strangeness. I knew all about strangeness. Hacked into much of the strangeness to see if I could see if the "Organization" or whatever was the rotten core. My hacking skills were more than a little rusty. Hadn't used them in years. And shit changes fast these days. Like the world is jacked up on speed. Everything warped and blurry... makes you wonder why we HAVE insane asylums, really. EVERYONE is goddamn nuts.<br />
<br />
Anyway... guess I left something to find during one of my stays tapping away at the local library. The place was deserted, except for the librarian. I mean who even GOES to libraries anymore? I'll tell you. BROKE PEOPLE. Like I was. Hell, I was saving every cent my old friend had generously given me just so I could "eat" each day. And I use the term loosely. But there was one evening... where someone DID end up joining me. Walked right through the front doors like he'd been coming there all his life. He was dressed well. Was humming to himself as he strode over to where I was amongst my nest of papers and folders and notes. Came right on over and parked himself in front of a computer near me. Adjusting the screen a bit before looking back over his shoulder at me. Giving me this... really wide grin under that fedora hat. Blue eyes and a wild mess of blonde hair.<br />
<br />
Everything about him was just... pale. Skin. Hair. Eyes.<br />
<br />
I got a feeling about him... that I hadn't felt in a VERY long time.<br />
<br />
One that kicked me right back to Detroit. My hometown. Oldest kid of the boss' best hitmen. Just a mafia war. One side of the city against the other. Fire and bullets and walking by a body sporting a good twenty bullet holes in him while his blood drained into the gutter... well, that was just a good time to be a pick-pocket. Might have been a drive-by, after all. Could still have some cash on him. Interesting way to grow up. My old man wanted to pass his gun down to me. Said I had a real killer shot.<br />
<br />
Just wish it would help me to kill Red-Fuck. But whatever.<br />
<br />
The guy sat down and grinned at me. I was trying my best to not look like I'd watched him come in.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b> "Getting a bit late to be studying up in the library, isn't it friend? </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>What is the matter? College Exams? Or something else?"</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
It took me a moment to remember that I should probably act friendly enough, despite the old itch burning down the back of my neck that this giddy little snowflake was about as pure intentioned as a goddamn Nazi.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b> "Just getting ready for a career change. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Gotta stay one step ahead in this day and age, right?"</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
He pulled up a window on the computer and I saw orange on his browser. Blogger, of all sites. A random blog about cooking.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b> "Yeah, don't I know it... </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Must be hard though. Change. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Most people have a hard time adapting to the reality of the world. You know?" </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I didn't like it. I didn't like it ONE GODDAMN BIT. So I started to gather my things. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b> "...You learn.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b> Anyway. Thanks for mentioning the time. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Didn't notice it was that late. I should get going." </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
After all the shit I'd been through and all the shit I'd read, I knew I was probably paranoid to hell, but that didn't matter. My instinct was what kept me ALIVE in Detroit and it sure as hell kept me alive on the Force. I wasn't about to start ignoring it when it was WARNING me about this kid. And that's all he was really. A kid. Didn't look any older than eighteen. Twenty tops. But I wasn't about to underestimate anyone or anything. Not about to make THAT mistake when I had so much left to do. I was trying to get OUT as soon as I could, packing away all my shit into my backpack... while still trying to not LOOK like I was rushing too much.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"Lost in your studies eh? I can respect that."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
He clicked once, and opened a NEW blog up.<br />
<br />
One I recognized immediately.<br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b> </b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
"Morning Hunter".<b></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I felt like I'd taken a punch to the gut.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"....It's you. Isn't it?"</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
He scrolled to one post in particular. I caught the title, remembering it.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The post that bragged about Flaming Baby Baseball. <b> </b><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"So let me ask you something, friend. </b></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>This is a very nasty business we have going here. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Why would you be so obsessed with sticking your nose where it does not belong?" </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I remember taking a slow step back, one of my hands subtly shifting around behind me. My Glock, of course. Safety was already off, which had been a good start. Even though, if any of the posts were to be believed, I knew it would do little to NOTHING to help me. We were the only ones in the entire library - even the damn librarian seemed to have buggered off somewhere - which was good. No crossfire victims. But also very bad.<br />
<br />
I didn't really think that getting EATEN sounded like a good way to go, to be honest.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"...Personal business.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>You've had your fair share of that. I'm sure you can relate."</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><b> </b></i>The screwed up fuck actually licked his lips. As if he KNEW what I was thinking.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"Ah, I see. You poor thing. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Lose someone to the business? Someone close? Spouse? Child? Sibling?" </b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
He was trying to find my buttons, I knew that. But I also know how to buy time.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Give them what they want.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Honestly, it's as simple as that. When you want to buy time: Cooperate. Talk. Tell them whatever you need to in order to give yourself a few more minutes - even a few more SECONDS - to figure out your plan of action.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"...Spouse."</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
One exit was too far away. The other... HE was closer to it.<i><b> </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"...And both my kids. My son and... daughter."</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
My first stumble.<br />
<br />
I'd read about what had happened to Laura, after all.<br />
<br />
Sam picked a good name for her. Probably the only good thing that baby got in her short life. Being named after Sam's mother. Sweet woman. Sam probably thought the name might give some kind of comfort...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><b></b></i><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><b></b></i>What a sick fucking JOKE that had been.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
But that wasn't the time to dwell.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
My eye caught the window. It was a possibility. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"Awww. Well I am so sorry to hear that friend. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Now, I am usually something of a vicious bastard, but I am feeling... </b><br />
<b>Hmmm... Generous today. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Forget everything that happened, accept the loss of your loved ones and move on. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Live the rest of your life in peace. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Otherwise, we are going to have a problem.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b> I hate problems, you understand."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
If he ever got that speel to work on ANYONE... they're a damn IDIOT.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
So I decided... to try something else.<br />
<br />
After all, I had read about Morningstar. All of the blogs.<br />
<br />
And his connection with Nightscream.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"...You're after him too, aren't you?"</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b> "... Him? Him Who?"</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"...The Red-Fuck. You're after him too, right?"</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"...You mean Redlight, yeah?"</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>"...Yes, that bastard.</i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i> I've already twiddled my thumbs for three years, I can't walk away NOW.</i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>The son of a bitch has shit to pay for."</i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i> </i>"...Right. So. Um... we noticed you poking your nose into things,</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>but we never actually found out your name.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Who are you again?"<i><br /></i> </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b> "Alex Prescott."</b><b> </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
For a long moment... I just got a completely blank stare. Then he opened his mouth to speak, only to close it as his entire expression changed to bewilderment and utter confusion. Staring at me as if I'd just grown a second head. Thinking back, it was actually a pretty damn priceless expression. Especially since I know him better now.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"Heh. I was wondering if you'd recognize 'Prescott' or not. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>After all, you'd know Sam better by 'Freeman', right?</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>And it never even ONCE mentioned its real name in the blog, so...</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>I guess Sam must have told you personally. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>You were a friend of Sam's, weren't you? 'Shooter'?"</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"You... Aren't you... You are supposed to... HOW ARE YOU <i>ALIVE</i>?"</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>"...In short? Stupidity."</i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I gave him a briefing of what had happened from the accident onward. Finishing only by mentioning the post... about Sam killing me. How it had to be the Red-Fuck's influence. That it made SENSE, after all. Just another way to wear Sam down. BREAK Sam down. What did it matter if it wasn't real? Sam would think it was. And it DID think it was. Just another Nightmare to haunt it. Another slab of guilt.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I told him how I hadn't seen Sam in over three years. And how that number was only going to grow at this point... cause, really, saying it like that. It really dawned on me for the first time that... I was never going to see Sam again. Never. It hit hard. To actually SAY it.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
He took a while to process it... but the more it sunk in, the more it seemed to weigh him. His mood changing (or the mask lifting?) from sadistically chipper... to glum. Depressed. Almost pained. Slowly confirming for me that... Sam was really gone. Dead. And worse. Then he said something which surprised me... because it sounded like the first sincere thing I'd heard come out of his mouth.<b> </b><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"...I am truly very sorry we had to meet like this. Really."</b></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>"...You understand then why I can't walk away."</i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"I can understand that. But what do you hope to accomplish?" </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>"I'm going to KILL the son of a bitch. Or die trying.</i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>And yeah, you have permission to laugh. I really don't give a shit anymore.</i></b><i><b>"</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And I still don't give a shit. You can laugh. Go right ahead, it is laughable right? But I don't care what I have to do. I don't care what it TAKES. I want... the last thing that bastard to see... is my face. I want him to REGRET it. I want... Justice. Capital Punishment, as the good old boys would say. Strap him to Sparky and flip the switch without using a sponge. COOK HIM. After all... it's too late for me to do anything for Sam. Maybe it was even too late three years ago. But I can figure out a way to FRY that supernatural bastard!!!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b> </b></i><b>"You can't. Especially so limited as you are. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>What do you intend to do... shoot him with that gun you're fingering?"</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I wasn't surprised he'd noticed. It was his job to notice.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"It's my Service Weapon.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>You don't even want to know what I had to go through to get it back after </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>I'd convinced enough people I was sane.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Fair enough - it's useless against things like you and him.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>But it reminds me of who I am.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>I'll figure out something. I'll find a way to do it.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Sam... had a golden soul, do you know that?</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>One of them kindest, most caring, sensative people I'd ever met.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Sam was a good inflience on me.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Good influence on everyone.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Always helping. Volunteering. SMILING.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>If SAM figured out how to become a monster...</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Then I can sure as HELL figure out how to KILL ONE!"</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
He gave me a look. Annoyance.<i><b> </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"Becoming one and killing one are very different. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>One is possible, the other is not.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b> This is not a fairy tale and you are not the Noble Knight slaying the evil dragon."</b> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And I glared right back. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"And what would you have me do? Run? Hide? </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Pretend the one person who never gave up on me </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>- who sacrificed everything FOR me and is in eternal suffering for it - </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>wasn't played with like a toy and broken apart, piece by piece?</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>The love of my life was OBLITERATED. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Sam gave EVERYTH----"</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"I can have you NOT sacrificing yourself for Sam. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>You think Sam would want that? </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>You can stand aside, not get in the way, and let US kill Redlight. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br />Do you know what he would do to you if he knew you were alive? </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Do you have<i> any idea</i>?"</b><i><b> </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b> "Then let me fucking HELP YOU!</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>I get that I'm over my head, okay? I'm still trying to sort through shit that happened YEARS ago.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>But I'm going to keep SWIMMING UP until I figure this shit out.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>I can help. I can. Give me a chance to prove it." </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"Help? You can't help. You can get KILLED. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>But it would be a miracle if you ever even SAW Redlight </b><br />
<b>without him butchering you. Don't be a moron. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Besides, I have to wonder if my Organization will even let you live knowing who you are. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>That is going to be one of my more pressing concerns, thank you very much... </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Could have been avoided if you had kept your goddamn head down but NOOOO..."</b><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"Why would they care? I'm a nobody. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>I don't even understand why YOU were sent. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Kinda expected someone to be sent eventually, but not someone as seemingly preoccupied as you. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>You'd think there are newbies who'd need some field training, eh?</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Almost like they already knew. Sending you."</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"If they knew, they wouldn't have sent me... </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Then again. It might have been Dad. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Situations like this always seem to amuse him... </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>And I care ONLY because it would be a disrespect to Sam NOT to care."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i> "I figured that. I'm not as stupid as I look, you know." </i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"That remains to be seen." </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Cypher glanced around the library for a moment. Mulling everything over... before telling me that he "strongly, STRONGLY" suggested that I'd go with him. Of course, I was leery. I even followed his gaze subconsciously. Paranoia taking over. Expecting to find all of the others - His Team - lurking around the library. Surrounding it and me. But of course, there was no one else. I was a nobody, after all.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I just asked where we would go. If I went with him.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
He only said somewhere safe. Then got up and made for the exit.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I made no move to follow him... at first.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Then I was shouldering my backpack and slipping my Glock back into its holster. Moving quickly to catch up even as I started questioning if maybe the nice men in the clean white coats at the Asylum had jumped the gun a bit when they called me sane. But it was my best shot... at getting what I wanted. I just took a chance that Nightscream and Morningstar were really that close of friends... that I'd be accepted, by extension. Though some things did make me... dig in my heels at first...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"Normally a Labyrinth is a big torture area. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Ironic Hell type thing. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>I am going to set a fairly pleasant one up to keep you safe.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b> Can't have you wandering around alone, and I can't drag you with me everywhere."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b> "So... a fancy cage? </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>A supernatural version of the same rubber room I BARELY managed to get out of?"</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b> "Much more comfortable than a Rubber Room, I promise. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Think of it more as a Bunker."</b><br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And that's where I stayed. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
That was about... here. <a href="http://neverdieneverdying.blogspot.ca/2013/09/welp.html" target="_blank">This was posted shortly after Cypher and I met face to face.</a> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The plan to use me as bait for Red-Fuck... was actually mine. Sam had always said that TELLER was ruled by his emotions. That he had one hell of a temper, and he only proved it again and again every time he showed his face. I figured we could use that. That if we could just get his blood boiling... he would throw caution to the wind and just ACT. Then all we had to do was snap a trap closed around him.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
At first I was thinking maybe Steele. Or maybe Writer. Someone from his history. I was flipping through all my papers, trying to come up with someone who might work. Cursing myself. Because Sam would have known who to use, wouldn't it? Sam would have known...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And that's when it hit me.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b> "...What about Sam? 'Nightscream'?"</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"...Might tick him off a bit. Might also make him laugh.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Also... Poor Taste."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"Not the real Sam, Cypher."</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"...What. Are you saying... you?"</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"Sam and I are... we're very similiar builds. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Not far off in height. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>And the clothing 'Nightscream' used to wear left everything else to guess work. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>If we can... make Redlight think that he FAILED to destroy Sam..."</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b> "Redlight knows Sam's mind. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>It wouldn't take him long to notice the differences swimming around in there. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Furthermore, just because you can look the part, doesn't mean you can act the part. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Move like the part. Talk like the part."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"You know Nightscream better than anyone else alive, don't you?"</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"...Not as much as Redlight. Not as<i> intimately</i> as Redlight."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>"...What about Banks? He was... with Sam. At the end."</i> </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"...I am NOT contacting DAVID FUCKING BANKS for help.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>We'll sort it out without him."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
But it wasn't good enough, was it? Not quite. I was getting the hang of it with each post, but I still wasn't... hitting all the right notes. Not enough to press the buttons I needed to.<br />
<br />
Until Banks <a href="http://shadesofthree.blogspot.ca/2013/09/never-dull-moment.html" target="_blank">decided to involve himself</a>. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Then things came together just that little bit more, didn't they?<br />
<br />
<br />
But that's long enough for one update. I'm tired to staring at the screen and Mumbles wants to play cards. <br />
<br />
Three guesses which I prefer.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15341487104668108798noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9141875965781301723.post-47377402542025773672013-11-16T01:12:00.000-05:002013-11-18T21:29:44.701-05:00So.Guess I'm not as dead as <a href="http://nightscream-evermore.blogspot.ca/2012/09/end.html" target="_blank">I'm supposed to be</a>.<br />
<br />
That Red-Fuck screwed up everything. EVERYTHING. I'm not going to pretend that Sam was the world's greatest person. I'm not going to try to make any one of you guys forget just what kind of horrors Sam was capable of. In fact, I DON'T want you to forget that... because I'm going to tell you that the person I married WAS one of the purest person on this whole rotten planet, and I want you to SEE the contrast. I want you to see how much the person I love most gave up, how much it FUCKING CHANGED... just to save our family. Just to try and make SOME kind of difference, even if it was throwing itself into the godforsaken snake pit. Even if its job became murder and torture...<br />
<br />
But that wasn't enough, was it?<br />
<br />
If it had ended there, I probably would have been able to accept it. Move on. Leave well enough alone and just... keep the memories safe. Cause that was the only thing I COULD have kept safe by the time I found out what happened.<br />
<br />
But this...?<br />
<br />
THIS??<br />
<br />
What Red-FUCK did to Sam goes beyond ANYTHING I could ever leave behind. Ever just walk away from and pretend everything was okie-day. Sam was OBLITERATED by that son of a bitch. Goddamn TELLER or whoever he wants to pretend he is or isn't... he ruined Sam. He tore out the goddamn CORE of who Sam was and SKINNED it while it watched, bound and gagged. Sam broke. Then shattered. Then was grounded down into a dust that didn't even resemble my Sam anymore.<br />
<br />
My Sam...<br />
<br />
My Sam... who thought I'd hate it for what it had become over the years. That clawed nightmare known as "Nightscream".<br />
<br />
My Sam... who was probably convinced I hated it since I was STUPID enough to take out my panic, fear, and frustration at being hunted by Slender Man... by throwing blame at it. By accusing Sam of bringing that THING home to Leo and me. Bringing... that entire horror show home and bringing our lives to a screeching halt before Leo's had even really BEGUN. It still sickens me... that the last time Sam and I exchanged words, we were fighting. Least, I was. Sam was mostly quiet. I guess it was trying to let me have my screaming rant... and then Sam touched me. Trying to COMFORT me.<br />
<br />
And what did I do?<br />
<br />
I stung my hand across Sam's face.<br />
<br />
I HIT Sam.<br />
<br />
And that's something I will NEVER forgive myself for. That I HATE myself for. I always said that Sam was always too good for me... and that's when I proved it.<br />
<br />
<br />
After that... I woke up in the hospital after the accident. Alone.<br />
<br />
No goodbye. No note. No nothing.<br />
<br />
Just gone.<br />
<br />
Leaving me with Leo and NO goddamn clue what was going on.<br />
<br />
For a while... yeah, I was mad as hell at Sam. And at myself. Then at Sam again. So I did the only thing I thought I COULD do... which turned out to be the fastest route to a rubber room that someone could ever fucking take. I actually thought I could MAKE them listen. That, no matter how far fetched my story was with monsters and entire FORESTS of Black Leaves that BLED the further you went into it... I thought I could MAKE them listen to me.<br />
<br />
After all, they were my colleagues. My team. We'd all been through thick and thin together and had KEPT IT together. Practically family, right? Of course. Practically.<br />
<br />
Apparently, its <i>never</i> a good idea to start screaming and ranting about faceless monsters and mutated newborns. No matter how much you think you KNOW who you're talking to. Cause let me tell you something... you'll be making perfect sense until you start seeing THAT look. That stupid, fuck-face, condescending expression. And, when you see it. And realize it. You suddenly stop making sense. Cause you're panicking right? Trying to prove against what they've actually decided was fact. A 'shame', but a fact.<br />
<br />
I wasn't crazy.<br />
<br />
I WASN'T.<br />
<br />
But that didn't stop them from locking me up like one. Drugging me and tying me down to a fucking MATTRESS as if I was a danger to myself or others. That didn't stop them from using those SICKENINGLY soft voices, like I was a damn child. That didn't stop them from making me STARE at those padded walls and wear those stupid gowns and talk to Doctors of this school and that school. All with that same. Fucking. Expression.<br />
<br />
<br />
At that point... I became<i><b> Ex-</b></i>Special Agent Alex Prescott, FBI.<br />
<br />
<br />
Leo was placed in Foster Care. <br />
<br />
And that's how it 'Ended'.<br />
<br />
Sam was dissected and tortured and stabbed and shot and poisoned and plagued and God only KNOWS what the fuck else... <br /><br />Leo ran out onto the road while playing and was hit and killed by a damn CAR.<br />
<br />
All while I stared at ink blots and had to listen to fucknut psychiatrists or psychologists or whatever they were psycho-analyzing me and my account of this "Faceless Monster." God, they LOVED discussing him!! It was like COCAINE for them. Once they started talking about this thing I'd "created" to explain my "mental breakdown", they never goddamn STOPPED. They loved digging into the SYMBOLISM behind it... and even going so far with ONE bright spark of a doc to suggest that I had CREATED the "Tall, Suited Man" to have something to blame since I had "OBVIOUSLY ATTACKED MY SPOUSE".<br />
<br />
Wanted to explain why Sam took off. The good doc claimed it was fear.<br />
<br />
I wanted to KILL the son of a bitch.<br />
<br />
I tried to.<br />
<br />
Kinda a hard thing to pull off in a mental institution.<br />
<br />
Those places... get to you, after a while. If you're sane going in, you'll be questioning yourself in no time flat. And I did question myself. Over and over and over again. Even going so far as to go on a screaming rant in the middle of the night because I WANTED the Slender Man to manifest himself. I wanted to SEE that thing again, only so I could KNOW that what was in my head actually DID happen and we WERE chased by that Thing. I was scared. And alone. And I just wanted something or someone to PROVE I wasn't insane...<br />
<br />
He never showed up. <br />
<br />
To this day, I haven't seen Him since the hospital.<br />
<br />
So, eventually, I just... started going along with it. Started accepting what the docs were telling me. That I had a mental break. That Sam fled for safety sake and was probably starting over somewhere with a new life, away from me. I took my medication. I went through the sessions. I did the group share shit.<br />
<br />
Three years went by of that garbage.<br />
<br />
And they decided I was sane enough to be let out. Tentatively.<br />
<br />
<br />
I bolted after a week.<br />
<br />
No more sessions. No more drugs. No more fucking DOCTORS.<br />
<br />
I had to find Sam.<br />
<br />
I started digging. And digging. And digging. And DIGGING. Turning up absolutely ZILCH, which, really, is weird all on its own. So I basically decided "fuck it". I tracked down an old friend of mine... and gave a knock at the door. In the pouring goddamn rain of course. It's DOWN-POURING and I turn up on the front step of someone who I hadn't seen in three years - soaked to the bone in a jacket that wasn't even waterproof.<br />
<br />
His face was pretty damn priceless when he saw me. But. Gotta give the old man credit. He let me in. He even dug out some old clothes that I could change into and threw a blanket at me while the coffee pot was getting going. He told me that he'd heard that I'd booked it out of town the second they let me out of the asylum. Even made the news for a few days while they looked for me. I was kinda surprised about that. Not like I was some Big Fish or anything. But I just rationalized it as me being Ex-FBI made me somehow 'special'.<br />
<br />
I asked if he was going to turn me over.<br />
<br />
He just shrugged and said that I didn't look that nuts. Except for the fact I was out in the storm, anyway. In fact... he said that I never seemed nuts. Not to him. And not to several other people who had heard my rant in the office that day. The wrong people, who had too many things to keep covered up. People who didn't WANT an Agent running around yelling about Faceless Monsters. Who had to make the issue disappear. Pressure from above and all, once word trickled around.<br />
<br />
He told me that I always did run my mouth too much for my own good.<br />
<br />
He gave me some advice. Some things to look into.<br />
<br />
He said I should be smart and leave it.<br />
<br />
But he already knew I wasn't smart.<br />
<br />
So... he told me about a site called Blogger. And how some of the people that are hunted by Slender Man document their stories/horror shows there. Post by post. He suggested that I should look through them. That they might give me a better idea of the kinda SCOPE this crap covered. That maybe, just maybe, one of them might mention something about someone named "Sam". That it was a long shot... but you never know. Because he could tell me one thing without a doubt... Sam did NOT relocate elsewhere. Sam left Leo behind, after all. It wouldn't have done that, if what the doctors had said was true. Not only that... but my friend told me it was odd for my Haunting to just suddenly stop like that. That it barely ever worked that way. And that he had heard rumors... that, sometimes, "The Slender Man" makes deals with people.<br />
<br />
When he said that... my stomach turned over on itself.<br />
<br />
I knew. I knew even WITHOUT knowing. Ever blog that I went through, I was fighting against myself. Wanting to find something and NOT wanting to find ANYTHING at the exact same time. And when I... finally did find a <a href="http://nightscream-evermore.blogspot.ca/2011/10/did-you-miss-me.html" target="_blank">Proxy Blog written by a "Sam"</a>.... yeah. I was in tears with every single post, wanting to deny it... but I knew I'd found Sam.<br />
<br />
<i>My</i> Sam.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://nightscream-evermore.blogspot.ca/2013/04/this-is-my-goodbye.html" target="_blank">And I was too late</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I don't give a shit to blabber on about the emotional roller coaster then WRECK that followed. All that matters is what I decided on the other side of it. And that something is this:<br />
<br />
I don't give a fuck what it did. <br />
<br />
I still love Sam.<br />
<br />
I always will.<br />
<br />
That's why I couldn't walk away then.<br />
<br />
<br />
And that's how Cypher found me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
But I'm not getting into that tonight.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15341487104668108798noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9141875965781301723.post-75368206517854857602013-11-09T01:31:00.001-05:002013-11-09T01:40:24.714-05:00Cypher is a DICK.<a href="http://neverdieneverdying.blogspot.ca/2013/11/months-of-planning-down-drain.html" target="_blank">Can't even fucking wait for me to explain my own damn lie</a>. <br />
<br />
But, yes, he's right. I'm a fraud. Sue me. <br />
<br />
Cheer, sneer, spit, I
don't care. I didn't start this for your damn amusement, or mine. I don't
even LIKE writing. But writing was Sam's deal. Even when we were married, writing was Sam's deal. It used to fantasize about publishing a novel or two. Used to make lists OF lists, for pete's sake... so I had to play my part. If Sam enjoyed writing, then I had to figure it out. Red-Fuck would expect it, after all. He'd expect updates about all the going-ons just like Sam used to... all the long ass posts....<br />
<br />
Posts that I wrote and rewrote then rewrote AGAIN. Then got Cypher to read them over. Sometimes sending them off to Banks for his two cents, once he involved himself. Words like "Alex-y" and "Scream-ish" became common terms around here. I picked and pieced my way through EVERYTHING. Every word, every ACTION, every THOUGHT...<br />
<br />
AND IT WORKED!!<br />
<br />
The fuck actually BELIEVED it! The son of a bitch actually believed that the Plague Doctor had brought Sam back. I actually pulled it OFF...<br />
<br />
I called "Redlight" out.<br />
<br />
I pushed every button that I knew. Every one that I'd learnt from reading and rereading Sam's blog. And even one of two that I guessed at and hoped that I had as good a aim with words as I do with bullets. I fired off that last post with EVERY intent set as sending that son of a bitch's temper into burning overdrive. I told Cypher to be ready for it. I TOLD him...<br />
<br />
I've seen a lot of shit since I started with this bunch.<br />
<br />
Nothing prepared me though for when that... thing brought with him when he appeared. I had myself all set. "Waiting" in a nice isolated spot where none of the locals should have stumbled into the Hell Hole we were setting up. I was maneuvering my way through. Making it look like I was headed somewhere important.And the very first thing that hit me... was like a vibration. not a shiver FROM me but one OUT of me that hit INTO me and clung. And then warped. Everything swaying as a weight came down on me HARD. Like someone had slammed down and was sitting on my chest. Making breathing near impossible as the trash and walls all around me pulled and stretched. Blurring. And, from this twisted concoction... came a staggering figure.<br />
<br />
When I saw that burning amber... I understood fully why Sam called him the Devil.<br />
<br />
Made me take a step back.<br />
<br />
Which seemed to actually confirm it for the bastard.<br />
<br />
That sick grin spreading out. Tearing up so wide and sharp that I expected to see blood as that borrowed face contorted for it. A young boy. Maybe fifteen. Had on red sneakers. Guess that was all the asshole needed to force his way in. The body shuttering and twisting in ways that snapped bones. I HEARD them snap, but it didn't seem to impair anything. Motion evening out as that fucker took complete control. Straightening to level that gaze at me. That grin. Sickening. Mocking. Making a comment about how special a toy I always was. How he never got tired... of making me shrink away. <br />
<b><br /></b>
I said the only thing I could think of. Remembering everything Cypher and Banks taught me. What EVERYONE in the group taught me. Forcing myself to loosen. My stance to relax. Forcing that smirk that I spent HOURS in front of a mirror practicing until I got it perfect.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"Well, well, my dear... aren't you a sight for sore eyes~ You're looking as sickly as ever.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Honestly. You don't call. You don't write. I was beginning to think I'd done something to UPSET YOU."</b></i><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
That earned a laugh. Twisted and warped and WRONG in so many ways. Everything about him was wrong. Each movement blurring and stretching. As if... as if EXISTING itself recognized him as an error. A glitch. His voice vibrating before evening out. Asking if I was really that eager to return to my place under his boot. Asking me if being tangled in his strings was that much fun. Asking me how much I remembered. Recalling memories as he started forward. Red sneakers bringing that THING closer and closer to me with every step as he recounted how I'd thrashed on my strings. How I'd begged him for release. For death. For anything but what WAS. Asking me... if I missed FEELING the white BURN through my mind - a sharp SPIKE of pain - when I disobeyed. If I missed all the delusions. All my worst nightmares playing over and over and over. If I missed CLINGING to him because he was the only thing I had left by the end of it. The only thing that I knew was Real...</div>
</div>
<br />
I only rose a brow - tilting my head in just that certain way as I tried to hide my nerves the closer he got. Asking him how long he'd been working that speech out while twiddling his thumbs in the Grove.<br />
<br />
One second, I saw his eye twitch.<br />
<br />
And, in the next, I was taken clear off my feet with his grip crushed around my throat like a vice. That amber BURNING. That grin torn down into a snarl feral and rabid. Not blinking. NEVER blinking. That oppression that choked out the very air doubling. Tripling down. Fucker only needed to start foaming at the mouth as he snapped and snarled...<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"DO YOU WANT TO DO IT OVER AGAIN, SAM?!! Should we go back to the BEGINNING of it all!?!! Did it not BURN to disobey me before?!! TO CHALLENGE ME??! Weren't you supposed to be my tool; reduced to nothing more than a shambling puppet?!??? I know how WEAK you truly are. I expected it from you. It was understandable. Excusable, even. Given what you went through. And I FORGAVE you for it, didn't I?! DIDN'T I, SAM?!! Didn't I keep that broken body of yours going, no matter how much it SCREAMED for you to stop? Didn't I keep you BREATHING? And how did you repay me for PROTECTING you from your own USELESSNESS?!! With disobedience?!? With stupidity?!??? You thrashed and thrashed on your strings and earned NOTHING from it! Don't you REMEMBER? Don't you remember how I REMINDED YOU over and over and OVER until it was CARVED INTO EVERY PART OF YOU?!??! You are MINE!! You belong to ME! Don't you remember....?! DON'T YOU REMEMBER, SAM?!?!<br /><br />I WILL CONTROL YOU UNTIL YOUR LAST GASPING, DESPERATE, PATHETIC BREATH!!!!"</b></div>
<br />
<br />
It took everything in me not to ram my gauntlet down his damn throat.<br />
<br />
And yet... something flashed over him then. Like he noticed something. Or didn't notice something. A frown twisted over the glare... just as the walls of a loop rose around us. Sweeping around and closing in mere seconds. Catching us. Catching HIM like a fish in a net. And I couldn't stop my smile... even as that searing glare snapped back onto me. Snarl torn across his expression again and, in one swift motion, my mask and hood were torn from my head.<br />
<br />
The
bastard recognized me.<br />
<br />
The second he tore off my hood. Just one
SECOND... and he knew. He knew who I was. And it makes me SICK to think
he'd been that mixed into Sam's memories that he wouldn't even skip one
fucking beat. Not even ONE.<br />
<br />
And then everything was a mess of motion. Cypher literally DROPPING in from above. SECONDS away from contact before Red-Fuck jumped back. Cypher barely touching the ground before lunging after him at full speed. Straight and ready and SO FUCKING CLOSE...<br />
<br />
<br />
And then there was a shot.<br />
<br />
<br />
Just one.<br />
<br />
Fucking.<br />
<br />
Shot.<br />
<br />
And it was all over.<br />
<br />
The body of the teen dropped like a rock. The glow of amber eyes fading away, taking that oppressive weight around us with it. It... took a moment to really sink in. For both of us. What had just happened. Because it COULDN'T happen like that. It was supposed to have fucking STOPPED here. Everything was supposed to have stopped. Cypher himself near blew a fuse before taking off in a raging fit. Screaming for the head of the sniper. Someone he calls the "Wiseman".<br />
<br />
That left me with the body of the kid.<br />
<br />
And the scrap remains of a ruined plan.<br />
<br />
<br />
It worked.<br />
<br />
<br />
It fucking WORKED.<br />
<br />
And we screwed it up. Somehow, we screwed it UP.<br />
<br />
But you know what? I wallowed. I sulked over my dead idea. Vengeance and justice so damn close that I could TASTE it only for it to slip from my fingers. I disappeared for a while. I had a few more drinks than I should have. I got it out of my system. And now... I don't give a rat's ass that Redlight knows my name. I don't give a FUCK that this plan fell apart. It changes nothing.<br />
<br />
<br />
Sam... is probably going to spend eternity in that goddamn Crumbling Castle.<br />
<br />
Nothing I do is going to change that. <br />
<br />
<br />
But I can figure out how to kill The Devil.<br />
<br />
I won't stop until I do.<br />
<br />
My name is Alex Prescott.... and I swear that I'll have Redlight's head.<br />
<br />
<br />
Sooner or later<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
he<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
WILL<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>BE</b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<u><b>MINE.</b></u><br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15341487104668108798noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9141875965781301723.post-28811239626850786542013-11-06T23:49:00.000-05:002013-11-06T23:50:28.074-05:00Thirty Pieces of SilverI've been walking these same streets for hours.<br />
<br />
And do you know what I've concluded after mulling my thoughts over and over and over again?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
You.<br />
<br />
<br />
Redlight.<br />
<br />
<br />
My DEAREST "Master".<br />
<br />
<br />
My Tormentor and Personal Devil.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
You. Are a Fucking Coward.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
How long has it been, sweetpea?<br />
<br />
<br />
How long since our little dance began? How long since I stood up against your idiocy, and you drove Hell itself into my mind and soul? How long since you raked your nails against and clawed INTO the deepest parts of me? How long has it been... since I told you to stop? Since I BEGGED you to stop? How long now...? My, my. Time sure moves fast. But isn't it ironic how the world turns?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Now. You're the One In A Cage.<br />
<br />
<br />
Caught like a cornered Stray in the Grove.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Oh, you can snap your teeth and put up your hackles all you like....<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
But in the end... what can you really do?<br />
<br />
<br />
What are you WILLING to do?<br />
<br />
<br />
In your cage - your little SPIT of reality - you are SAFE, aren't you? And you're so afraid to take even a single step out. Even just one. Petrified. Because, when it comes down to it... all you are is a child, aren't you? A bratty child throwing a tantrum. Still so scared of the dark. That's all you've ever BEEN. You rant and scream and smash things when you don't get your way... but, my DEAREST old friend, do look around you now.<br />
<br />
<br />
What good is a tantrum with no one to bear witness?<br />
<br />
<br />
What good is a threat when it comes second-hand?<br />
<br />
<br />
What good is all that RAGE when the only skin you can claw into... is that of your own palms?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
You are a Coward.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
You were no match for me, way back when. You had to DESTROY my mind just to be able to puppet me around. And even then... how many times did you lose control over me? How many times did I break free from your PATHETIC network? Five? Ten? More?<br />
<br />
<br />
Good God, it sickens me to even think I let you get the best of me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
You. A rabid STRAY and nothing more.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Incapable of being human. And just not good enough to play the role of Monster.<br />
<br />
<br />
After all, this world is filled with Monsters, isn't it? And how do you, a freak in a hoodie with delusions of godhood, compare? Heh. The Valtiels are just WAITING for the opportunity to put you on your own leash. Teach you some tricks like you tried to teach me...<br />
<br />
Will you beg THEM to stop, I wonder? <br />
<br />
But lets move on, shall we? The Wonders of Fear do not stop at the Valtiels, after all! The Choir would probably be able to drive you mad in a matter of minutes. The Rake would render you useless. The Plague Doctor? You'd be just another lab rat to Him. How about the Wooden Girl, maybe? No, Her strings FAR exceed your own. Like comparing steel wire to sowing thread.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
And to The Slender Man?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
What do you think, my dear?<br />
<br />
He's been Watching you. Always has been. You know it just as well as I do. Watching you rise. Watching you pretend to be such a special little snowflake...<br />
<br />
How long do you think... until he impales you on a tree branch? Anchoring you and your delusions forever to the Earth with all His other little play things. You know He's merely biding His time. And He has all the time in the World. Our Father. Our Great Tall One. Our True God~<br />
<br />
This has gone on for long enough, don't you think? And I've already taken the liberty of accepting thirty pieces of silver, You Mangy Mutt.<br />
<br />
Personally... I think it's about time we Nailed You Up.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Do you think you'd Rise again? Hmm?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Or will you just ROT?! Putrid and gut-wrenching. Just another Man. Nothing more than a HOBO with a magic act.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Your time is coming.<br />
<br />
<br />
I'm here, you little Rat.<br />
<br />
<br />
Your title has always been too good for you. And, deep down, you know it don't you?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Had to cheat to beat me. A mere human.<br />
<br />
<br />
Have to hide in order to survive. Oh, so fearsome, indeed.<br />
<br />
<br />
Have to rely on mindslaves and half-wits to run your errands. And the ones that aren't half-wits....<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
They're going to betray you, my dear.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
You are going to feel that blade cut through your spine. And you'll feel it, ever so soon. They're using you as a shield. A dummy to test for traps before they reach your prize, standing on your corpse to do so.<br />
<br />
Don't deny it, love. Even you are capable of seeing THAT aren't you? Or is it still the job of your old jester to point out the obvious for you? <br />
<br />
<br />
Poor thing.<br />
<br />
<br />
You really are lost without Writer pulling your strings for you, aren't you?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Now, now. Don't you fret.<br />
<br />
<br />
Your little game of Hide and Seek is almost through.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
After all, I came back for a reason.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I'm the one who'll write your final chapter, Storyteller.<br />
<br />
Prove Me Wrong.<br />
<br />Nightscreamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241679908254552393noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9141875965781301723.post-90163061622751799252013-11-03T23:39:00.001-05:002013-11-03T23:40:09.673-05:00All Around the Mulberry Bush...Well this has all been very exciting, hasn't it? With Morningstar off on holiday playing Anti-Virus for the Newborn, he left myself back at the home ranch along with everyone else. He may have a different word for it, but the word that I'd use to describe my position in matters at that point of time would be "grounded". Apparently Star was more than a little ticked off with my little Game out on the high seas. He has been quite... overly protective since my return from the Castle.<br />
<br />
Or perhaps "Possessive" would be the better word?<br />
<br />
No, that doesn't quite fit either...<br />
<br />
In any case, he left. Which should have meant I was in charge. As further punishment, Dearest Shooter was very vocal about the fact that Gleeman was second in command. Not that I particularly care. After all, officially, I'm not part of this "Team" either. Just a tag-along, as it were. One that apparently should be sleeping in the dog house.<br />
<br />
Especially since Shooter returned to find my little note.<br />
<br />
Honestly, we hadn't expected to be gone for so long. But one thing lead to another, which lead to another...<br />
<br />
<br />
The problem honestly started when, through our general researching and scanning of activities... something stood out.<br />
<br />
In fact, it stood out a bit too much, considering it dealt with everyone's favorite Red-Collared Attack Dog.<br />
<br />
Especially so with Shooter being gone.<br />
<br />
<br />
Neither Gleeman nor I had any doubt that it was a trap. Who exactly their intended target was, however, was in question. They may have been attempting to lure me out... but it was just as probable that they were attempting to lure out "Proxy Bob", who they also want. Or they could have been hoping we would split the team to eliminate one of those Targets from the pool... and then launch a full-scale attack on whomever the true target was, now at half the strength from missing members. <br />
<br />
We were eleven in all. Myself, Gleeman, "Proxy Bob", Mumbles, Tiger, Recluse, Bloodharvest, Pacemaker, Samedi, Darkhorse, and Jack...<br />
<br />
<br />
And Eleven We Stayed.<br />
<br />
<br />
They had us come to an isolated location. An old factory on the outskirts of a failing city. Laid well off the beaten trail, surrounded by an untended forest. All uphill, of course. Made getting there more than a bit of a challenge... especially since we wanted to go in Unseen. We decided early on that moving in as a single group would be suicidal. We had to thin ourselves down and move in slow. So, we portioned ourselves off. Settling into groups of two, with the exception of "Proxy Bob" and myself, who each had a... body guard, shall we say, on either side. Both Mumbles and Recluse came with me, while Gleeman and Tiger accompanied "Proxy Bob". I personally didn't see the need for a second on my side of things, but wasn't about to make a fuss. We had much to do... and have to take our time doing it. Each group taking into the woods from a different direction. Each scaling the small incline a different way. Picking and choosing ourselves through undergrowth and rock.<br />
<br />
Mumbles, Recluse and I took our time. Trusting the others to do the same so as to limit any disturbance. The only thing that we disturbed in our passing... was a pair of ravens. Crying loud - too loud - before taking to the sky. Disappearing in a flurry of feathers that, I suppose, should have reminded me of Kali and Loki. Yet instead all that flashed to mind was that bloody Glutton creature. The Berserk Nest Servant who attempted to rip my throat out with his teeth... <br />
<br />
Recluse whispered that it was a good sign for me.<br />
<br />
I wasn't so sure...<br />
<br />
<br />
Nevertheless, before too long, the half-broken factory loomed over us. One side collapsed. Another threatening to. Broken windows and graffiti. Truly, a sad end to a structure that was, no doubt, once raised with such promise for what the future had in store. Such hope. Looking at it then, I wondered how well it was going to last the night... or if it would take any of us with it, if it chose to fall. But, all the same, we didn't have time to waste. We had to find a way in, next. Nothing seemed to have been tripped. No signs of disturbance. So far, we'd felt we were in the clear... until I grew conscious of being watched. Eyes. Eyes that Saw Too Much and Knew even more...<br />
<br />
I didn't see anyone around at first.<br />
<br />
Then Mumbles tugged my sleeve and pointed off towards the trees.<br />
<br />
<br />
There.<br />
<br />
Sitting so comfortably on a lower branch. Legs swinging lazily beneath him... was a man.<br />
<br />
It was no wonder I hadn't seen him at first. His black hoodie nearly made him disappear amongst the trees... but you could still see his white mask. Painted on green hair and a wide, red smile. A purple line down the left cheek. He seemed rather pleased that we'd noticed him. Waving at us... and then placing a single finger to his painted lips. Imitating a 'shh' gesture before shifting. Standing up on that branch before jumping down... and, quite literally, skipping across the grass... before disappearing in a slight in the wall. A hidden space, created when part of the building collapsed. Forming a tunnel directly into the bowels of the factory. Mumbles was first there. Gazing in, though we were there as well shortly after.<br />
<br />
Then came the choice.<br />
<br />
Follow?<br />
<br />
Or look for another way?<br />
<br />
Undoubtedly, the others weren't going to find THAT particular way in, as hidden as it was against the side of the wall. However, going where someone obviously WANTED us to was not exactly comforting. That being said... we had to get into the building somehow. And Recluse did point out that, if this was the trap we all took it to be, no one on Redlight's side was going to be on orders of Shoot On Sight. We'd have time to sort out where we stood.<br />
<br />
At the end of it all... Mumbles flipped a coin.<br />
<br />
<br />
So we went in.<br />
<br />
<br />
The way was low and rough. At times even reducing us to crouch down to half height. But soon it opened up. Soon the crocked trail merged into a hallway. The years of being a popular Teenager "Dare" spot left their fingerprints everywhere. Cigarette butts and candy wrappers. Graffiti and stone scratchings. All leaving it as quite the assorted mess, really. We went along as quietly as we could. Sneaking along. Checking each corner, each doorway, that we came to. Slowly progressing through the dusted maze.<br />
<br />
Until, at the edge of my hearing, I could make out footsteps.<br />
<br />
The same pace. The same pattern.<br />
<br />
Pacing.<br />
<br />
Back and forth.<br />
<br />
Back and forth...<br />
<br />
We followed those steps. Edging them closer, until, eventually, we came to a room like all the others we'd passed. Alike, except for one major difference...<br />
<br />
<br />
Inside, was Morgan. A frame built like a horse and taller than myself by over half a foot, it seemed contrary to see someone who looked as though they could toss a truck nose over end to be pacing back and forth in a navy blue Priest's cassock. Not to mention the sword he was cutting the air with. Repeating patterns over and over again. Each motion paired with a step. Dark blonde hair, cut short, only harshening his overall appearance. A contemplative look on his face as he now and again tossed a glance out the nearby window. Never hesitating in swing nor step when he did. In fact, he seemed to give a bit more FORCE behind the swing.<br />
<br />
Standing like statues around the room, were five Redlits. Each clad in a red hoodie pulled up to conceal their faces. Each indistinguishable from the other. Clones. That's all they were. Just clones. Unthinking and unfeeling...<br />
<br />
<br />
Or maybe they were thinking. Were feeling.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
They just...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
We rushed them.<br />
<br />
Blurred movement on either side of me. A quick step, and I saw the white of Morgan's eye...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
In the next second, I had my legs braced as the force behind his swing shot down my arm and through my shoulder - the blade itself stopped dead in my metal palm. The blades of my gauntlet wrapping around the sword as I took a step or two of my own before he could think. Tricking a wire inside my own glove to give birth to a second blade, this one unlatching from its resting place on the back of my forearm and coming to a six inch length that I wanted to drive into his stomach. Instant advantage. Even with the chainmail, such a blade SHOULD have done direct damage. Pierced between the links and, with even force applied, even opened them. But he must have seen it. Or heard it click. Because he didn't try to absorb what should have looked like a simple punch. Pivoting, Twisting around and whipping his blade right out of mine with a screech of protesting steel - all but bringing it down across my back in the with the very same motion as he came around me. I felt the snag as it caught my hoodie - slicing it cleanly - but missing me as I ducked low. Using my height to my own advantage.<br />
<br />
He sneered down at me... and sheathed his sword.<br />
<br />
He said he didn't need a sword to beat me to a bloody pulp. Which is exactly how he planned to bring me to his precious Crimson King. Black and blue and bloody, but alive. Redlight himself didn't care. So long as I was alive upon delivery...<br />
<br />
He made a move towards me.<br />
<br />
Only... to abruptly stumble back. Hitting something solid amongst the air... and then hitting something else behind him. Confusion swept his expression. Hands padding up... and finding himself trapped with walls on his sides as well. An Invisible Box.<br />
<br />
Courtesy of Mumbles.<br />
<br />
Morgan's glare was absolutely LETHAL upon the Mime who merely stared back, one arm raised to hold his walls. Recluse choke-slamming the last Redlit behind him. You could actually see the veins on Morgan's forehead pulsing. Hands clenched so tight that they'd turned stark white. A million insults perched just on the tip of his tongue... when gunfire interrupted him. Echoing down the halls and flooding in the room. Followed by yelling. And a lot of it. One gruff voice definitely being Gleeman. Shouting orders, or cursing. Most likely both. The shots decorating every word that reached us...<br />
<br />
Mumbles, Recluse and I exchanged glances.<br />
<br />
<br />
That was a lot of racket for just other scatterings of Redlit.<br />
<br />
And, if I'm any judge of faces... a sliver of what might have been satisfaction invaded Morgan's seething expression in that moment.<br />
<br />
<br />
I told Mumbled and Recluse to go. Help the others, with whatever the hell it was. They'd obviously found something a lot worse than we had, and I could handle Morgan on my own. After all, I may not be in my former glory, but I am not <i>useless.</i> I'm still <i>alive</i> after all and as long as I have a goddamn heartbeat I'm going to pull my own weight in things. I am going to make sure my heart has a purpose beyond merely<i> surviving</i>...<br />
<br />
They hesitated, of course... but eventually nodded. Recluse leaving a bit faster than Mumbles who gave me a last look before departing. His walls leaving with him.<br />
<br />
Morgan and I matched stares.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"That was very stupid of you."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"Just thought I was lowering myself to the Status Quo around here. Wouldn't want an unfair advantage."</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"If Redlight hadn't ordered for you to come in with a pulse, I would break you in half."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>"Well, then it would be a perfectly fair fight, wouldn't it, sweetheart?"</i> </b><i><b> </b></i></div>
<br />
<br />
The best thing about being "shortish"... is being able to easily manouver around the "freakishly tallish".<br />
<br />
I rather needed that when his next move was to drive my skull into the wall with his fist.<br />
<br />
I skirted under the blow... and spiked my elbow up. Catching his chin, nose, eye, all from his own need to lower himself TO me. Snapping his head backwards before I twisted and, with my arm already up, I brought it down in a hammer fist. Driving the force through his chin before switching to my gauntlet. Aiming to drive that steel fist straight into his nose... only for him to catch my arm. Coming straight through, grabbing the back of my neck, and cracking the top of his skull into my nose when he dragged me in. Driving his knee into my gut next. All air left me. Collapsing me to the floor. Coughing. Blood streaming down my upper-lip and chin. His boot burying into my side next before I had a chance to recover - a last second half-wheezing shift saving my stomach and whatever breath I'd managed to gain back. He went to kick again, determined for my stomach, and this time I blocked. Grabbed and twisted. Raking my blades across the back of his legs - missing the back of the knee through his cassock. But it didn't matter much as he was coming down anyway. Balance lost. Falling like a load of stones, he hit hard enough to daze for an instant as I struggled for my feet. Twisting away. Throwing out a kick when he grabbed my other leg. Landing it in his nose, but he was far from deterred. Climbing on me. Over me. Straddling me as he pinned back my gauntlet and went for my face with his free hand. Punching me. Trying to work me over til I wouldn't be seeing anything at all, even when I could still barely breath, agony exploding through my skull...<br />
<br />
So I gave him a taste of his own medicine.<br />
<br />
I stole his breath. Grabbing his windpipe. Just the windpipe. And squeezed as hard as I could. He choked, and, god, that was a wonderful sight. Because, with it, its grip slipped on my gauntlet... and I took full pleasure in raking my blades clear across his face.<br />
<br />
He threw himself back. A hissing, groaned, half-suppressed shout escaping him as he clutched his face and I returned for his throat. Throwing as much weight as I could into a punch that knocked him clear off me... and, this time, I did make it back to my feet.<br />
<br />
Blind rage was what stared back at me.<br />
<br />
A bloody snarl that twitched and jerked and spasmed...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Then his hand latched onto the handle of his sword... and he launched himself at me. A flash of steel pulling to full length between us with a wide, wild swing. All traces of humanity sizzling out and replaced with raw animalistic thirst for blood and bone. I ducked, and the sword tore a gash through the wall above me as I rushed to get under his arm, trying to keep distance by taking his left side out... but he was fast. Faster than he was. Or, perhaps, expected my path. And crushed his elbow into my spine.<br />
<br />
I staggered and my knee touched the floor for a brief instant before I pushed through it. Around it. Over it. Rushing for distance. For space. His sword driving into the floor - nearly piercing straight through me, but settling only for gashing my side and planting itself where I HAD been. Staying mere INCHES ahead of my death as that steel tip tore from the floor and slashed across. Aiming to spill my guts to the floor. Catching only tatters of cloth as I clutched my side. Moving, moving, moving, constantly moving AWAY from the WILD swing, the demented, maddened swings of a lunatic as another swipe scratched across my shoulder.<br />
<br />
One swing came in too deep.<br />
<br />
I caught it with the forearm of my gauntlet. Twisting it and planting it to the floor with my boot. Kicking out with my other, so my full weight went on that blade. I landed my hit into his gut, and my extra weight made the sword drop under me as he went stumbling back. I picked it up and gave out a swing of my own as he came in charging... only to catch it with his bare hand. Blood bathing the gleaming surface as his other hand gripped my hoodie. His skull colliding into my own for the second time...<br />
<br />
And I dropped.<br />
<br />
Flat on my back. The pounding in my skull too much to ignore anymore as my vision swirled and blackened. I saw him move over me. Face bloodied. Shifting the sword back in its rightful owner's hand, moving as though to lift it to stab it down... just as I whipped out my glock. Catching him in my sights. Shaky as my vision was, experience kept my hand steady. If I could see enough to aim, I knew I'd hit my mark... and he seemed to know as well. An air, I guess, that comes from someone who knows their weapon beyond knowledge and into instinct...<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"...You have fire. If you weren't already a Bank's Leftover, I'd consider raping you myself."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i></i></b><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i></i></b><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I really wasn't sure whether to be relieved or insulted by that.</div>
<br />
<br />
But it was hardly the time to remark on it.<br />
<br />
<br />
The lust of murder was burning in those eyes of dark blue.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
It was him or me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
A flash of steel.<br />
<br />
A squeeze of a trigger.<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />
And everything blurred.<br />
<br />
<br />
Not because something had hit. But because NOTHING had.<br />
<br />
All his motion seemed to catch at once and he was literally JERKED backwards - my own shot missing by far as I partly scrambled back. Flashes of past nightmarish experiences flashing in my pounding mind and wondering what kind of force was I going to witness this time. Seeing him struggle and thrash against something that seemed to hold him from all directions. Lifting him clear off the floor as small cuts came over his flesh....<br />
<br />
Cuts.<br />
<br />
It was then... that I saw them.<br />
<br />
<br />
Strings.<br />
<br />
<br />
Everywhere. Were strings. Gleaming and sharp. Coiled around Morgan's every limb and pulled snug.<br />
<br />
The rage in his expression was only twisted worse from the gashes from my blades across it. That murderous glare caught on someone... or something... behind me...<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"YOU DARE-----?!?!"</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Shifting, to gaze behind me...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Only to see that same white masked man from before. That painted on smile grinning back at me before it lifted onto Morgan. Tilting to the side as he rose one hand, forefinger extended. And gave a tisk-task motion. Each movement from side to side accented... by a tug of strings and the slap of Morgan's own hand slapping his own face.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I heard voices coming up the hallway.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The puppeteer heard them as well, turning back partly.... then back to me. It may have been my imagination but...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I swear that painted smile seemed to grow wider.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And then he literally skipped over me. Twirling on landing to put his back to Morgan... and waved at me. And the others, who were quickly catching up as reality twisted and warped...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Then they were gone.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Leaving me to answer a million and one questions from the others in my pose. Gleeman giving me a lecture about stupid, reckless behaviour that I mostly tuned out. I wasn't interesting in that. Asking instead who the second party was.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
They called him The Jester.</div>
<br />
<br />
And it was probably a good thing that I didn't provoke him, being in the shape I was. Especially looking at how rough he left the others in our group. They filled me in, telling me about the masses of Dolls he had them "playing" with. And the strings, of course. But they managed to beat it down, at which point The Jester opted for retreat rather than involve himself personally in the conflict...<br />
<br />
We had to stay there for a few days. Samedi, Darkhorse, and Pacemaker were in no shape to move. Neither was Gleeman, though he denied it completely. When we finally DID get back, we were expecting to get blasted by Morningstar...<br />
<br />
<br />
Instead.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Valtiel greeted us.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The one responsible for Star's... current "State of Being", shall we say. The one who keeps the krazy glue handy to keep securing his mind-work back together when needed. Patchwork at best, if you ask me. Black suit and a golden scarf. Burning, yellow eyes and that... heat... scorching, blistering heat paired with such a charming smile. A snake's smile... <br />
<br />
He insisted that he and I have a... talk.<br />
<br />
<br />
After that, I honestly did not feel like explaining all of this Hell. I didn't... want to get into it. Or anything, for that matter. We've been back for... about a week or so, I guess. I've just been keeping myself occupied. Training. Researching. More training. Tiger's been showing me some new tricks...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
And, yes, I did get a lecture from Shooter as well.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
That's all for now.<br />
<br />
I need a walk.<br />
<br />
<br />Nightscreamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241679908254552393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9141875965781301723.post-14468457860269116812013-10-13T00:02:00.001-04:002013-10-13T00:14:57.986-04:00New Friends and Old Ones.My most humble apologies for dropping off the face of the planet, but I found myself otherwise occupied in several different ways. Not only have I been lending my assistance in solidify details concerning a Third-Possible-Redlight-Host. Not only have I spent endless hours honing my skills back as they should be. Both on my own... as well as against Tiger. Against Star. Against David. Not only all that...<br />
<br />
But the Nightmares have started again.<br />
<br />
I thought I had left them behind. I thought I'd escaped that Plague in favor of His Own. The Plague that has gone dormant deep down inside of this body of mine... waiting for the time when my duty here is complete and it bubbles to the surface once more. When I'm... drawn back to The Castle. The... rats...<br />
<br />
<br />
Perhaps this is a gift from the Black Queen.<br />
<br />
Her last laugh for killing her.<br />
<br />
For that was when it began again. That was when I started bolting up awake at night. Covered in a cold sweat. Feeling like my heart was about to break my ribcage apart. Throat raw and dry. Feeling her blood and guts all up my arms. Each pulse and quiver and....<br />
<br />
<br />
I have killed many in my life.<br />
<br />
It should be a simple act by now.<br />
<br />
But I suppose this is what becomes of soldiers who cross that line. Who are shoved into the darkest, twisted parts of their minds and left to ROT in the blood and bile there. Those... who lose the stomach for all this... lose... the nerve to slaughter by the hundreds. To rip out intestines as if removing the stuffing from an old, broken toy. To hear the screaming. The pleads.<br />
<br />
<br />
Quite honestly... I leave the room when the Others start playing with whatever poor soul they dragged in.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I suppose it's... too familiar.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
But I don't have to get into that, do I? No, it's been gone over enough. And it's not pity that I want. Revenge is all I care for. All I NEED to accept my suffering. So long as I can DRIVE that son of the BITCH to his knees... so long as I can make him FEAR for what is in store for him.... I can return to the Castle. I'll have justice. Or at least the closest thing to it in this life.<br />
<br />
I don't have to kill by the scores anymore. I just have one life to take. I know others will fall between now and then but... I have nothing to prove.<br />
<br />
<br />
I have nothing... to prove.<br />
<br />
<br />
Not to my old friends.<br />
<br />
And not you.<br />
<br />
<br />
Oddly, I've found support... in an unexpected soul. Someone I never really paid much attention to before.<br />
<br />
<br />
Mumbles.<br />
<br />
<br />
I don't know why - whether it was something he sensed, like Star says he can - but he knocked on my door one night. I was awake anyway. Just sitting and thinking. Not really caring to try my luck at sleeping. So I didn't mind it at all when he took a chair and sat with me. Talked with me. Well, I talked. He wrote. Kind of odd, having a conversation with a mime, but dare I say it, he's the sanest of all of us here. Or at least the most level headed. He's written me pages about where he comes from. What growing up was like. When he saw Slender Man the first time. How he became a Proxy. Why.<br />
<br />
I remember... once going on a rant. Right before I thought I was going to die from The Plague Doctor's Will. Going on about... how Proxies are at the end of their stories. How, no matter how twisted they are, they are still human. And no one has the right to steal that from them. Their humanity. They've had everything else stolen from them. Why you Runners insist on taking away the one thing that could perhaps earn you a hesitation from them - maybe even the MERCY of a quick death - is well beyond my understanding.<br />
<br />
Then again, a lot of things seem to be beyond my understanding these days.<br />
<br />
I'm not the Proxy I used to be.<br />
<br />
<br />
But then again... I'm well past the End of my Story, aren't I?<br />
<br />
<br />
Perhaps, at this point, all I am is a Ghost.<br />
.Nightscreamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241679908254552393noreply@blogger.com45tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9141875965781301723.post-3952458669645773952013-10-02T23:49:00.000-04:002013-10-03T00:27:15.410-04:00Never Thought I'd See The Day......That I Willingly Became A Slave Again.<br />
<br />
<br />
However, in the field, one must do what they must. Usually not particularly pleasant or ultimately flattering... but survival does tend to be a good thing, especially when surrounded by people who'd sooner pass a blade through your gut than ask your name. Though, admittedly, being around your own people can be a challenge of its own right. My jaw and neck are STILL sore from the right hook that Shooter laid on me during our ever-so-touching reunion. I'm honestly surprised that it didn't spin my head into doing a complete 360. Needless to say, Shooter was more than a little pissed that I had volunteered to stay behind when he called for a retreat. I knew he would be. Which is exactly why I didn't tell him and let him do the head count on his very own fingers and thumbs when they were all good and gone.<br />
<br />
Honestly, just thinking of what his expression might have been in that moment makes the sore jaw and neck completely worth it. <br />
<br />
Sadly, the cruise was nothing to stay for. I swear I won't be taking another one for as long as I live. Or unlive. Whatever it is I am, I'm not doing it. Not only was I treated like just another head in a herd of endless cattle, but the entertainment aboard was lousy at the best of times. People really don't know how to put on a show, these days. It's a crying shame, if I do say so myself.<br />
<br />
But that would be exactly why I stayed behind, now, wouldn't it?<br />
<br />
During the first attack, the plan, ultimately, was to let Shooter charge in like the good little battling-ram he is. Take all the fire to allow the rest of us to get in position. And then make enough of a scene to get the Queen away from Legba in order for Shooter to have a little private chat with him. And then, through him, into Redlight. With the fragile hope that it would be Game Over.<br />
<br />
We honestly should have figured they'd be outfitted with those blades.<br />
<br />
When one side has a tank, it should come fairly obvious that the opposing side would make full-use of anti-tank missiles.<br />
<br />
Common sense, really. So it doesn't come as a true surprise that Shooter didn't connect the dots.<br />
<br />
I should have, perhaps. But I like to know as little as possible as what state of matter my dearest friend has been reduced to. As much as he claims its an upgrade, I'd really beg to differ. But I don't. I kindly shut up on the matter and leave him be. After all, I'm not even sure what manner of matter /I/ am.<br />
<br />
<br />
In any case. It was a miracle that none of our main group was killed in that assault.<br />
<br />
<br />
Same can't be said for our allies, who we wouldn't have gotten there at all without. They became meat-shields.<br />
<br />
Not that that particularly bothers anyone.<br />
<br />
Right?<br />
<br />
<br />
When I heard the call for retreat, I was already on the ship. To the side, out of view to most. Even as I heard that tell-tale SNAP of the neck I'd wrenched around of one of the local inhabitants, I could see the others blasting their way back to the SS Minnow. My distracted eye nearly earned me a Fetter's Blade driven through my back... not that its specialness would make that situation any worse than it normally would, mind you, but one has to admire the GLEAM of such a blade, no? Being partial to blades myself, it nearly broke my heart to throw it overboard. Along with its wielder.<br />
<br />
A warrior must go down with their weapon, after all.<br />
<br />
Or something along those lines, anyway...<br />
<br />
That would be when there was a blast that threatened my very eardrums. Followed by another. And another. The ship pitched violently back and forth. There was fire and smoke and yelling. Debris flying down. And, amongst that chaos that sunk me down onto my knees to brace myself from FOLLOWING the man I'd thrown overboard... the corpse I shared company with gave me an idea.<br />
<br />
He was in sad shape, really. Filthy from head to toe and far thinner than his build would deem healthy. Nails were overgrown and some broken off. Teeth yellowed and rotten. One blue eye and one milky eye staring dead out at the world. Unseeing. His torment was finally over, though he didn't realize its beginning, I don't think. One has to admire Legba's creativity and talent, honestly. For acquiring such easy slaves to do his bidding. Oh, there were Legends told of it. Spook stories elders used to keep children from wandering too far in the dark. But to actually see the result of the work...<br />
<br />
They used to all be Norms. Then they were captured and heavily drugged with a special powder. Thrown into the ground and buried. Legba then would have had to go back after a few days... and the people dug out of those graves would be so brain damaged that you could barely call what they had "function" at all. They shamble about. Only understanding the most simple of orders. Dead gazes out into a world that they no longer register. In some aspects, I suppose that's a mercy. That they aren't aware, really. That they don't understand. A small mercy, perhaps, but one I can appreciate from... personal experience...<br />
<br />
In many ways, its accurate to call them Zombies.<br />
<br />
Even though they die just the same as you or I.<br />
<br />
Their hearts beat. Their lungs fill and empty, chest rising and falling with each breath. They bleed. They need to eat and sleep to survive...<br />
<br />
<br />
They're human. Just a wreck of one.<br />
<br />
I'd be curious, really... to try to bring someone BACK from that state. Though insanity would probably be the outcome, I'd think...<br />
<br />
<br />
In any case, I know an opportunity when I see one.<br />
<br />
So, while everyone else was unaware, I dragged my friend out of sight... and we swapped clothes. I kept my gauntlet, of course. Concealing it beneath my helper's floppy, old, leather gloves. The rest of his wear was as tattered and worn out as my own attire. Shirt, jacket, pants... all obviously having been through hell and back. Covered me up nicely. <br />
<br />
But my GOD did it stink.<br />
<br />
Once satisfied, I took my own things and threw them overboard along with the corpse itself to ensure no one would be any the wiser. After that, it was just a matter of stepping out. Joining in amongst the other Zombies. Doing as they did. Keeping myself loose. Head down. Dragging the feet along. Took a little of getting used to, but I managed well enough, I'd say, considering I drew not a single alarm from the Queen or Legba himself. Not that Legba was 100% himself anymore. Just one look at him, and you could see the influence coming through. In contrast to attire that spoke of a well-to-do business man on a tropical cruise, a Black Growth had spread across nearly half of Legba's skull - coming up close to his left eye. Bulging the veins across his forehead and cheek in a manner that reminded me of a spider's web. Eyes smoldering with just a hint of amber. He was still alert. Still talking and moving around...<br />
<br />
But always in the company of the Black Queen.<br />
<br />
She stood a little shorter than Legba by a few inches, but yet seemed to loom over him all the same. Much like she did to anyone else she gave half a glance to. Her robe was black with intricate designs woven into the material, like an olden priestess. Her mask was a silver likeness of her old Master, the Plague Doctor. Fine cut and detailed just as perfectly as her clothes, it was also encrusted with small jewels in just the right places for the best effect. Always had a rose like scent around her. Probably from her beak.<br />
<br />
Star is reading over my shoulder, and says it was Damascus Rose. Now you've had your two cents, dear. Kindly buzz off.<br />
<br />
<br />
I had intended to simple... observe from amongst my "fellow" Zombies. To make sure things didn't go South too fast, before the others could get back to finish the job. To discretely keep an eye on the situation and, if possible, an ear turned to any conversation. As you never know what could become useful to know.<br />
<br />
That<i> had </i>been my intention.<br />
<br />
However, in what was either a stroke of good luck or bad luck breathing down my neck yet again... the Queen and Legba needed to choose a new Zombie to serve them personally, since the last one was shot to death by a Mime.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
They picked me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
At first, I was certain that I'd been called out. That they'd noticed. That there was some... <i>link </i>between Legba's mind and his puppets, and I'd stood out like a sore thumb amongst the rest. Stomach knotting up at just the thought... of being taken again. Thrown onto my knees in front of the Crimson King...<br />
<br />
But my worry, hidden behind cloth and my own will, was unneeded. I was used just the same as any of the other puppets. Thankfully, neither the Queen nor Legba expected a Zombie to know how to think for themselves, so anything ordered of me was very simple. In plain sight. I'd work along with the other Zombies, but then I'd be called on to bring them drinks. Or food. Or to take dishes or clean or some such. Sometimes I wasn't even ordered to go back to my duties, so I could literally stand right beside our little friends as they discussed matters of the day. Pretend to be zoned out of my mind, when actually I was listening for every detail.<br />
<br />
Was hard not to laugh, really.<br />
<br />
<br />
Such high powered beings. Both of them, plus Redlight on the side, branching into Legba's mind... all fooled by a few layers of cloth.<br />
<br />
<br />
Of course, the hard work began when the ship made it to a nearby island. The ship itself was in rough shape, so a temporary fort was constructed near the shore while repairs were being made. It was hard work, but, as they say, hard work is good for the soul. The pirates - norms who made up the majority of the crew - did much of the work, but simple tasks had the Zombies involved. I actually felt good about it. Been a while since actual physical labor was on my contract. And, if I have one thing to say about it, isn't this:<br />
<br />
<br />
It's honestly amazing how FAST something can get done when you remove Unions from the picture. <br />
<br />
<br />
Progress came more slowly on the ship. Though that wasn't generally something Zombies were capable of managing, so it was left to the normal crew. While my "kin" shuffled mindlessly around or laid slumped on the ground, I tended to the Queen and Legba as ordered. A majority of the time, they just let me stand in the room, waiting to be called on again. It made for long days. Even longer when having to stifle a yawn or ignore an itch. Needless the say...<br />
<br />
I was very relieved when I heard shouting and gunfire.<br />
<br />
That was, at least, until The Black Queen ordered the Crew to attack. Zombies and all.<br />
<br />
Legba himself was in no shape to give any order at all. <br />
<br />
I needed to stay. I had spent all this TIME here in ORDER to be there when everything was set just so... but it wasn't the right time yet to reveal my cards. I was forced to comply. Drawing a Fetter's Blade and joining the rest of the crew outside in what had become a driving rain... and the chaos of battle that was slowly enveloping the entire area. Screaming seemed to CLAW into the very air as bullets peppered everything over top of the sound of rain. I spotted... something I didn't recognize. They were dark and tall with skin unbelievably pale. Dressed in black coats, they reminded me ever so much... of one I used to call Father. Even with the wide-brimmed black hats. But they were nothing like Him, even if not a bullet nor Fetter's Blade did ANYTHING to them. Not even slowed the bastards down as they slaughtered the crew one by one. Strange, unearthly, perhaps insect-like clicks coming from them. A sound that shivered down my spine and made my skin crawl. Morningstar's crew moving up with them. Fighting their own battles with pirates and Zombies alike in the storm of water and bullets and blades.<br />
<br />
I ducked down an alley. Opting for a back way rather than attempt to get past... whatever those things are. The "Pale Men".<br />
<br />
<br />
Mumbles nearly took my bloody head off.<br />
<br />
<br />
Luckily, my reaction time is one of my most proud attributes, and I ducked behind a pile of rubble and trash.<br />
<br />
Well, more "threw myself" than "ducked", but I'm sure you get the mental picture just fine. I ripped the glove off my gauntlet... and stuck it into the air. Waving it back and forth in attempt to get some iota of message across. The next thing I heard was footsteps... and I nearly attacked that damn Mime when he appeared - prepared to take him out if he tried to do the same to me. But that wasn't the expression I was greeted with. His eyes were wide and startled and apologetic. Waving his hands as thought to explain that he hadn't known it was me.<br />
<br />
Would have nearly been ironic if the same mime that had killed Legba's LAST personal servant also got ME as well.<br />
<br />
In any case, I acquired an Escort. Since I still bore the look of a Zombie, it made getting where I wanted to go and BACK a lot less harmful to my overall health. I got Mumbles to accompany me to where the drinks were kept... and made my way back as fast as I possibly could. My dearest company didn't like it - I could tell from the unsure frown - but it was the best way I could think of... of getting back in with the Queen and Legba. Of getting in close quarters again. And so, amongst the battle (read: slaughter) still going on... I sent Mumbles to get Morningstar. His part in the performance was nearly upon us at that point... so I took a breath to steady my own breathing and reentered the hut as causally. Limply. As I could. Slowly placing the trace of drinks down on the table as I always did. One for the Queen, one for Legba...<br />
<br />
Make or break.<br />
<br />
But, just as I thought, the only look I received from The Queen was one of mild annoyance. The kind given to a toy which isn't quite working right anymore. Glitching. Obviously assuming that I had become so used to serving drinks that my shambling mind had allowed me to get sidetracked from her orders. Nevertheless, she reached and took her drink. Not giving a single command to me as she sat and waited. Her own breathing coming in slight wheezes which ended as a tremble in her chest. A rattle. Barely noticeable. But, obviously, a sign that she hadn't escaped the Plague Doctor or the Crumbling Castle as neatly as she might have preferred....<br />
<br />
Legba himself was Gone to the World. His drink from before was untouched in front of him. Unblinking eyes burning amber in their centers as beads of sweat formed over dark brown skin. His head swaying a bit on his neck, like a slow motion bobble head. And that "Pimple"... that Black Growth... had spread down the back of his skull to the base of his neck. Pulsing with red veins even as every normal vein in his body bulged out. His heart beating like a jackhammer in his chest. Completely visible even from across the table. Pounding out on his ribcage. I could have sworn that I heard a soft whine. Like a dog in pain. As I'm sure he was. Redlight's hold... is nothing to be taken lightly...<br />
<br />
Time was running out.<br />
<br />
We had an open door here. A direct link straight to Redlight himself. His mind. His Self. But an Open Door is only useful until the Monster slams it behind him. If the transfer was completed... there wasn't going to be a soul on this whole fucking island that was going to make it out alive. It was now or never.<br />
<br />
And The Queen... noticed my stare.<br />
<br />
She rose an arm and snapped her fingers in front of my face. Obviously checking for a reaction that would betray my mind as alert... but, luckily, I saw the motion coming. Forcing my stare to remain straight. Pinned on Legba. The Queen seemed satisfied by that. Sinking back in her chair. A smirk playing upon her lips as her gaze turned away from the "Zombie" in the room onto Legba, though her words were directed to my non-understanding ears.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"Do your rotten instincts feel the change in winds, slave?</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>The Crimson King is nearly here.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>And, with Him... comes Hell."</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
One almost expected a crack of lighting and a cry of thunder. A booming ROAR to signify the Nightmare that was to come.<br />
<br />
But it wasn't Hell that burst into that small room.<br />
<br />
But rather one named from the Angel trapped there.<br />
<br />
<br />
Morningstar stormed in. Rushing forward with an eye only on the prize: Legba. A touch was all he needed. Just a touch, and Redlight could be obliterated from the inside out...<br />
<br />
<br />
But he was driven to a halt not three feet away from his unmoving target. A small gesture from the Queen's hand... and Star's strength all but shriveled before my very eyes. Buckling. Face twisting in agony as The Black Queen quietly rose to her feet... and black liquid, Morningstar's Azoth, began to leak from his very body. Blackness coming from his ears. Nose. Eyes. Bubbling up into his mouth and dripping down his chin. His very skin seeming to SAG as the Queen's hand began to twist a little more...<br />
<br />
And I drove my gauntlet into her stomach.<br />
<br />
Her breath hissed with pain as her body buckled, but my other arm held her where she stood as I forced my blades in as far as I could manage. Slicing through instines and organs alike. Raw HEAT enveloping my arm nearly feeling scalding in contrast to the rain from earlier... only to freeze as that mask turned to me. And, through the glass over the sockets... I could just barely see those eyes. Sharp and cruel.<br />
<br />
She was smiling. Laughing.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"N-Nightscream... </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Aren't you looking b-better... from last we met.</b>.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Must be nice... to be r-rid of all the RATS burrowing through y-your insides, y-yes?</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>How LUCKY f-for you. To l-leave behind that stifling H-Heat. The bloated, dise--ased flesh..." </b> </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I felt the snarl curl over my lips as I made a grab for her spine. To RIP it the fuck OUT of her... only to be sent flying straight across the room. Hitting a support beam with such force that I swear I heard it crack before slumping to the floor. Groaning. Struggling to get back to my feet...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
But Star was doing better by then. Moving. Lifting. Nearly touching...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And then... Legba exploded.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I covered myself the best I could from the heat and flame even as the force drove Star flying backwards in the air. Hitting the wall, much like I had... only he landed on his feet. Whipping around at the Queen collapsed on the floor... holding a small remote in her hand. Smiling. Laughing at him. At us. She began... talking to Shooter, as she held her guts in. Mentioning things. Things way back, deep into his history. Looking for a dig. Wanting to find that soft spot. That reaction. Even bleeding out across the floor at his feet, She Was Smiling. Hoping each word was planted in his mind like a seed...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Star simply crouched down over her.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And watched her bleed.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Watched her die.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I think I may have hazed out a little - sleep deprivation catching up with me, perhaps - for the next thing I remember is Shooter's hand in front of my face. Offering a hand up, which I gratefully - foolishly - took. And that... would be when I experienced the full force of his right hook on my jaw. Not letting the force drive me down, he just as quickly grabbed my shoulders and shoved me back against the wall. Face inches from mine.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"YOU IDIOT!!!"</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
So nice to feel loved. Truly.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Still. I maintain that nothing I went through was as bad as the boat ride back with those damn Pale Men aboard. Unnerving, to say the least.<br />
<br />
Ultimately, things could have gone a lot better... but I suppose they could have also gone a lot worst. The old glass half full/half empty question again, I guess. In any case, we all made it out alright. No real further forward than we had been, Redlight-Hunt wise, but at least we snipped a few of his strings. From the looks that I keep getting from Star, I can assume he's still annoyed that I took such a risk...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
But what can I say?</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I'm a Raven that's used to Hunting Solo.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
Nightscreamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241679908254552393noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9141875965781301723.post-15935206961985848392013-09-21T00:12:00.000-04:002013-09-22T00:19:03.380-04:00Never A Dull Moment.So, as I'm certain most of you <a href="http://neverdieneverdying.blogspot.ca/2013/09/banks.html" target="_blank">are well aware by now</a>, David and I had a little bit of a playdate last evening. The effort truly is flattering, if nothing else... even if it was a touch painful. Honestly, I've never been able to fully appreciate tasers as a tool... in fact, I find them bloody irritating. Especially when used on ME. But I suppose it is still preferable compared to a blow to the skull. Less chance of brain damage (as I think I've suffered enough in that particular category), even if the odds of a heart attack do rise. Would be almost FUNNY to die that way after going through all the effort of coming BACK.<br />
<br />
I must admit... it was good to see him again.<br />
<br />
Even after waking into the ache that had settled into my muscles from the effects of the taser.<br />
<br />
Even tied to a bloody uncomfortable wooden chair.<br />
<br />
Even under that cutting stare.<br />
<br />
<br />
It was good.<br />
<br />
<br />
Good to know that he'd go so far to protect my name.<br />
<br />
Good to know my death hadn't corrupted the changes HE had been making... as it wasn't that long ago that I would have woken tied onto a bed, not in a chair. <br />
<br />
Good to know he was still the same bull-headed asshole he always was. A constant, if nothing else.<br />
<br />
<br />
I suppose you could say that he took advantage of a chance situation. It was my own fault, really. I'd already been restless in mind, but when David <a href="http://shadesofthree.blogspot.ca/2013/09/grotesquery-conceiled.html#comments" target="_blank">made such a racket online</a>... well, I decided I needed to clear my head a touch. To go for a little walk. Stupid, honestly. Considering how David had threatened to pop in. But I'd thought he'd approach me. I'd thought he would give me the benefit of the doubt. I'd thought we'd rebuilt enough bridges between us to warrant at least that...<br />
<br />
<br />
I underestimated how little I sound like myself, these days.<br />
<br />
<br />
Tiger accompanied me, as per Star's request/order. I teased my Dearest Shooter about being too paranoid and lightly threatened to fly the coop if he caged me in too tightly, good condition or no... but he was right in being cautious. Perhaps if I had taken the situation more seriously, then I wouldn't have wasted so much of everyone's time. I still have the burn mark on my back from where the taser hit. David having taken advantage of a brief second in which my protective company had been distracted... and I felt the current hit me. Pulse THROUGH me. Ripping across and over. I felt the ground hit my knees... and after that its only blurred movements in the black. Shadows of sounds. Echoes of textures and temperatures...<br />
<br />
When I finally dragged my mind into counsciousness again... it was cold. And dark. And dank. The black surrounding me like a breathless void... while ropes cut into my wrists. Twisting in them only bringing warm drops down to rest in my palm.<br />
<br />
In that dark, a shadow shifted.<br />
<br />
I told him that, even if he WAS jealous that I was moving along with Shooter these days, kidnapping me was far from the answer.<br />
<br />
<br />
That didn't necessarily go over that well. I got a cold sneer... and then a rant.<br />
<br />
<br />
A rant about liars.<br />
<br />
A rant about imposters.<br />
<br />
A rant about stupidity and attention whores.<br />
<br />
A rant about how grateful I should be that he's giving me the CHANCE to make things right.<br />
<br />
To tell the truth.<br />
<br />
To stop this little... game of mine...<br />
<br />
Before he stopped it for me. Permanently. <br />
<br />
<br />
I wish I could say that it didn't hurt to hear such an edge directed my way. I wish I could say that I let it roll right off my shoulders, that it didn't even faze me that he didn't recognize me still, even when I was sitting right in front of him. Attire and mask or no, I would have thought he should have been able to RECOGNIZE me. We'd been close before my death. Quite close. I thought if anyone could see through all my fumblings and ramblings... it would have been David. After all, he'd seen me shattered before... surely 'scattered' had to look similiar?<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"...Have I truly changed that much, David?"</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
He didn't respond, though his shadow drew closer. Standing directly in front of me even as I worked at the ropes behind me. Attempting to be as subtle in my movements as possible as that blade - David's switchblade - came to press on the very edge of my jaw. Pressing up. Cutting in. Drawing blood. Breathing only two words into the air between us:<i><b> </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"Last Chance."</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i></i>David was always... partial towards the Art of Flaying.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
I've seen him at work.<br />
<br />
Impressive.<br />
<br />
<br />
Never thought I'd be on the receiving end, quite honestly.<br />
<br />
<br />
It was in that moment that the ropes on my wrists finally gave. I rushed him. Snatching the wrist with the blade as I shot up. Pushing. Twisting... only to be pinned back down. Gripping my neck in one hand, snapping it back, as his other grabbed my hood and ripped it off...<br />
<br />
In that instant... he shot backwards.<br />
<br />
Eyes wide.<br />
<br />
Jaw slack.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"...Hi, David."</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The clang of David's knife hitting the floor seemed to echo for minutes on end as he stared at me. Frozen in place as reality as he knew it shifted right before his eyes. Slowly shaking his head from side to side. Not blinking. Se<span style="font-family: inherit;">eming to have forgotten how to even breathe as ghosts of words formed on his lips. Barely loud enough to hear. Telling me... that it couldn't be. That /I/ couldn't be. That it was impossible. That I was dead. That he'd seen my body. That he'd BURNT my body. That I was DEAD...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>"...You've gotten thinner, Sweetheart. I thought I told you to look after yourself?"</i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">There was a moment of further silence.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Then... he rushed me.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And hugged me.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
For what felt like minutes on end.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
More than a little awkward. But in a good way, I suppose. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Least he'd stopped trying to cut my face off.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We spoke for a long while before we even left the cellar. Eventually moving upstairs into the rest of the house. The very house that David had "grown up" in. The house that had changed him in so many ways. Ways he was now fighting to change, in one form or another...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
He figured it was the one place he could bring "an imposter" that would take a while for Morningstar to find.<br />
<br />
<br />
There was only a scarce few seconds of warning before the door was kicked in. A shower of splintering wood as the door was nearly dislodged from its very hinges. Tiger rushing in as the lead of the group, the others quickly following suit. What had been a quiet, abandoned house out in the middle of nowhere spinning into a hive of yelling and threatening and waving guns and blades. The only real reason that David didn't earn himself a spray of bullets from the crew (or get broken in half by Tiger for dishonoring him) was by me using myself as a shield between the two sides. Giving my own orders to stand down. To lower their weapons...<br />
<br />
Even as I was gripping hold of David's arm to keep his own firearm down.<br />
<br />
Luckily, the whole thing ended with no one getting shot.<br />
<br />
<br />
Though, if looks could kill, David would have been dead a thousands times over when Star walked in.<br />
<br />
Then again, David was giving the exactly same look in return. <br />
<br />
Could practically FEEL the air crackle.<br />
<br />
I must admit, it was amusing watching their cat and dog antics again.<br />
<br />
Who is which, I'll leave for you to decide.<br />
<br />
<br />
And that's all there is, for now. <br />
<br />
<br />
Remember, my Friends:<br />
<br />
Keep Smiling! </div>
Nightscreamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241679908254552393noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9141875965781301723.post-36203612916906307652013-09-17T23:58:00.000-04:002013-09-18T00:13:42.548-04:00He Nearly Tore My Throat Out.Least, he was... giving his best effort to.<br />
<br />
But that was... I'm getting ahead of myself. My apologies. As I've said repeatedly, keeping my mind sorted can be a bit of a chore. I sometimes take a... wrong turn in the maze in my head. Things can... come out in the wrong order...<br />
<br />
<br />
Morningstar, Crouching Tiger, and I arrived in a small town that stood as a ghost town in a dense forest. It was difficult to believe that, not that long ago, the entire area had been rather... bustling. A hive of activity. A Nest Cult Town, busy keeping a predator's eye on their pet project - The Glutton. Studying him. Watching him. Keeping him under control... that is until The Glutton woke them to the realization of how easy they just... became Prey. With Redlight's encouragement, no doubt...<br />
<br />
Everything was so... very still. Impossibly still.<br />
<br />
That was until Morningstar suddenly perked and... took off running. Into the densest part of the forest, no less. Tiger and I went to follow, but I... something caught my eye. A movement. From the corner, but behind. I hesitated. For only a split second, but I hesitated... and then I was hit hard on the side. The jolt of the ground hit me next before everything was just a mess of... of movement and cloth and long nails that resembled more claws and... black teeth. An entire mouth of crooked, gnashing teeth. Jaw and neck straining down to reach my neck, saliva dripping, even as I fought to keep him away. To keep him... from doing<i> remodeling work</i> on my jugular and all I could THINK of was how much my arms were shaking and what would happen if... they gave out...<br />
<br />
<br />
It was like trying to fight off a corpse.<br />
<br />
<br />
I gritted my teeth... and raked the blades of my gauntlet up and across. Aiming to slash out his neck. To RIP it right off from his fucking SPINAL CORD.<br />
<br />
I only sliced across his collar bone.<br />
<br />
<br />
The result... was an explosion of talons and beaks and feathers clawing and ripping and swirling everything everywhere and I could still see those teeth straining for my neck and...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I vaguely remember yelling... and then he was suddenly off.<br />
<br />
The mammoth that is Crouching Tiger was standing over me. Yanking me up even as that... thing scrambled back to its feet. The tattered remains of a straitjacket - messily painted red - hanging from its thin frame beneath a torn jacket. Wild eyes whipping around, peering out from beneath its hood. Saliva dripping down its ash grey chin...<br />
<br />
Then it took off.<br />
<br />
We ran after. Following the mess of movement through the undergrowth... until a large building pulled out from it in front of us. The Glutton disappearing inside. The very same building that his fellow Nests used to observe him from. A building that stood as empty and broken as the rest of town... <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
We saw Morningstar off in the trees. Not too far off. Fighting a figure in... what I can only describe as Renaissance Fair style Merry Man type clothes. Cloth a deep purple that... stood out amongst all the shadows and green, but it wasn't the clothes that had my attention as Shooter and he exchanged blows back and forth and around and around...<br />
<br />
The "man's" eyes... the <i>Piper'</i>s Eyes... burned a bright blue... as did the light that came from deep inside his mouth as he seemed to try to... pin Star down.<br />
<br />
But Tiger and I had our own work.<br />
<br />
<br />
Inside the building, half of it was collapsed on itself. Everything thrown about in disarray - the last stilled image of chaos that had erupted in there not that long ago. Tiger and I slowly made our way through. The wreckage around us perfect camouflage as The Glutton stole the higher ground. Never stopping even once. Circling us. Stalking us. A shadow amongst shadows, that only ended in a SCREAM of talons and beaks and claws and gnashing teeth. It felt like it took hours. A deadly game of hide and seek and pounce. All involving an entire murder... a living cloud... of crows. A swarm that circled and dove and TORE from every direction. No matter what Tiger and I tried, we could never... get close enough. Could never get past those damn BIRDS...<br />
<br />
Of course, sometimes he abandoned the high ground altogether. When it was more convenient for him to snap a boney hand around one's ankle from below. From beneath the boards as you passed by and drag your feet out from under you with strength that his bones and scarred skin shouldn't be able to produce. Clawing straight through the fabric of my pants and DRAGGING me into the dark hole he'd nested for himself even as I struggled to find something to grab hold of something to stop the SLIDE as I kicked and kicked and hit something that earned a shriek from beneath that rubble... followed by a swarm of birds. I slashed at the flock. Trying to protect my neck and stomach as more and more surrounded me and all I could do was roll. Roll and hope for distance hope for a chance of getting back to my feet...<br />
<br />
Of course, that's where the STAIRS would be.<br />
<br />
Or, rather, where the stairs were MEANT to be. Collapsed. Like so much else. I landed on my shoulder in their remains. Breathing hard and leaving a splatter of blood.<br />
<br />
I saw movement again.<br />
<br />
Finding my feet, I drew my Glock and fired. And fired. And fired. All into the blackness that surrounded me. Any noise. Any movement.<br />
<br />
Until I heard my weapon answer with a TICK.<br />
<br />
Tick.<br />
<br />
End of the clip.<br />
<br />
Exactly what the fucker had been waiting for to Start up again. Rushing in. Ducking beneath the swing of my gauntlet and slamming me back into the wall... and biting down hard on the side of my neck. A twist at the last moment saving my arteries, landing the bite closer to the back... but I still had to bite back the scream as I felt teeth sink in. Tear. RIP. Blood soaking my neck and chest...<br />
<br />
That would be when a beam - literally a wooden BEAM - collided into The Glutton with a force that made me very THANKFUL for Tiger's aim. Driving The Nest to the same collapsed stairs that were stained with my own blood. Adding to it, his own. A flurry of more feathers. More beaks. More talons. As that thing THRASHED like a wild animal to get out from under the beam that now pinned it. Its flock attacking. Swirling and tearing at us both until I heard a crack that was Tiger's foot breaking through the floorboards up above. Catching hold of him. And part of the murder that had been set on me... swept up and turned on him. I heard screaming.<br />
<br />
Somehow, within the swarm of my own tormenters... I managed to get a new clip into the Glock. Hearing it snap in place, I ignored the blood and pain and aimed... at only the beam. There was movement in the darkness again...<br />
<br />
and off.<br />
<br />
<br />
far off.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
i saw that son of bitch<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
a sillouette in the dark<br />
<br />
<br />
the shadow OF a shadow, with but a sliver of light from the cracked floorboards above to bring him to life<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I saw it. <br />
<br />
And I Took The Shot.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Seconds later, the entire murder dissipated into nothing. Every single bloody crow drawn back from wince they came. I called up to Tiger, and he answered back. Badly hurt, but alive. Eventually, he joined me. Jumping down. Before we slowly made our way over to the remains of The Glutton.<br />
<br />
<br />
A skeleton of a man.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
With a hole blasted right between his wide, crazed eyes.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Morningstar regrouped with us later. Gleeman handled injuries once we got back. I got a bit of a ribbing for needing saving. Twice. But the job is done, we have time to recoup. Which is exactly what we've all been doing the past couple of days.<br />
<br />
<br />
One down.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Wasn't all that hard, hm?<br />
<br />Nightscreamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241679908254552393noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9141875965781301723.post-44307228971300137932013-09-16T22:36:00.000-04:002013-09-16T22:36:37.311-04:00Grotesquery Conceiled"In the shadows of my gallow,<br />I'd rather absent the hallow."<br /><br />(For) thy presence made pleasure of pain,<br />(and) thy madness turned sanity into vain.<br />Profoundly wicked owner of soul,<br />the mysteries of thy creation beheld by ghouls.<br /><br />Diabolically disguised heavenly bodies,<br />(and it's) atrociously desired primordial elements,<br />plunging through the confused heart of sulfur.<br />In all this darkness, how can man see?<br /><br />"Poor misguided fool...<br />It is not God you are talking to!<br />I am not impostrous, hiding behind pearly walls.<br />However, I am still yet to be found known,<br />I shall guide you on your midnight ride, as the sun fades black.<br />(And) beyond your grotesque imagination,<br />My name will be revealed...<br />The blood of Christ can't heal your wounds,<br />give Me all of yours, and I'll give you Mine..."<br /><br />I am the hidden fantasy!<br />In the secret of my knowledge,<br />There is no God, but me!<br />
<br />In this shadowy world, all are nameless.<br />
Outstanding, dressed in majestic splendor,<br />Touched by the flames of eternal fire.<br />How I long for your embrace, uttermost desire...Nightscreamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241679908254552393noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9141875965781301723.post-28782901980308877022013-09-14T23:41:00.001-04:002013-09-14T23:41:48.528-04:00My God, I'm Out of Shape. Out of practice. Out of... basically everything, really.<br />
<br />
Including effort, least for tonight.<br />
<br />
Like Morningstar explained in that LOVELY little re-introductory post he did for me, we are on our way to handle a Nest issue. Back in my prime, such an adventure would be nearly a common day occurrence but... I'm not in my prime. I'll get back to it, I'm sure, but for now I'm left sparring with Shooter and Crouching Tiger in attempt to get my act back together.<br />
<br />
I have decided one thing, however.<br />
<br />
I must be human.<br />
<br />
If I weren't, I wouldn't be this damn sore.<br />
<br />
But, of course, its not just a matter of retraining the body, is it? No, the mind is much part of it too. And it has been... so very slow. I remember it took me what felt like a couple of days to even find my way out of the sewer when I woke up. The hive in my mind only growing more maddening the longer I stayed put. Forcing my legs to function... at least after I remember that, yes, they did have a function. A rather useful one, or so a nagging thought kept insisting. Even when I got back to my feet, I had to use the walls to keep any manner of balance. Slowly taking it step by step as my thoughts... seemed to yank and pull against themselves. A tangled ball of yarn with multiple ends. All seeming to lead to something solid, but unattainable...<br />
<br />
Every step was a reminder.<br />
<br />
Every breath a sliver of memory. A sliver of knowledge. Of awareness. Of SOMETHING that helped me piece together where I was...<br />
<br />
<br />
and... who I was...<br />
<br />
not to mention where I've been<br />
<br />
<br />
Even now, there's still much that I don't remember. Gaps. I'm confident that some of that is still waiting to sink back into place - like a puzzle piece not quite looked at from the correct angle yet - but there are other blanks while... are not gaps at all. But rather Walls. Bricks and mortar built up, layer by layer by layer. My mind a web of mazed halls. A nonsensical grid that leads everywhere and nowhere all at once. Lined by doors. Hundreds upon hundreds of doors. Each and every one storing a piece of me. My past. My memories. My... experiences. These Walls... seal many of those doors. Actually, they seal most of them. Keeping inside a nauseous BUZZ... that could only possibly be my own madness. My own insanity. My depression and agony and torment...<br />
<br />
My Time With Redlight.<br />
<br />
It makes my stomach twist just thinking what nightmares could be behind those walls.<br />
<br />
It makes my stomach twist... just thinking of how MANY Walls had to be constructed in order to make me functional once again.<br />
<br />
<br />
I will find my footing again.<br />
<br />
I don't care what it takes.<br />
<br />
I will come back from this.<br />
<br />Mark My Words.Nightscreamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241679908254552393noreply@blogger.com9