Saturday, April 11, 2015

So Much for Language Skills

So my beloved is better, it seems. Turns out he was never not okay. I thought he was dealing with haunting hallucinations of Sam and people from his past but it seems I may have made a lot of leaps of logic when I came to that conclusion.

Maybe I've spent too much time babysitting Moth. Hes actually going through some of that... granted Moth is being haunted by far more than his past.

But I digress, David was out on some R&R with what I keep insisting was not actually Sam and trying to figure out how to keep that phantom without taking a knee. Something I could have helped with if David wasn't a brick wall to my uh... unnatural...ess...ness.

Unnaturallessness, I got that shit.

I have such a way with words.

I'm gonna be honest, I'd sad David made the choice he did. I won't spoil it. Its not my place to say. But to suffice to say to his commenters, he already did whatever it was he did. Now that hes got that sorted out, my trial run taking care of Em is coming to a close.

I'll miss her. I'm sure Jack will to. He's only recently realized what a shit he was being. Such a thick headed little shit. David assures me I can come visit her, and him, anytime. And I will visit him. But it feels weird spending time with her out there.

I can feel eyes on me. A burning accusation. A searing hatred over my shoulder. That lingering in the air before an argument breaks out, just as soon as someone breaks the tension. I haven't felt that here. But something out there, something hovering over Em or David that can't quite reach her here, doesn't want me around her.

I suspect that's why Father is keeping her with David. Because it's safe there. She has a well sought after soul. The child burns with potential. And as the filth in this world piles on to dampen her light, the clamor in to try to pluck it. Its heart breaking in its own way. I know the feeling. I was there once.

I wish I could remember what color my hair is supposed to be. I think I would dye it like that, just so I could see what I could have been. I guess the real question is, would I be any less of an asshole as a ginger.

Where would I even get freckles though? I'm not drawing them on. Fuck that. Too tacky. I'd have to do blonde. At that point, I might as well just let it stay white.

But I've been making the most of what little time I have with Em. Shes excited to see her grandpa again and I can hardly blame her. I am too. There aren't a lot of people out there that are happy to see me.

And in the meantime I've been teaching her to craft... talking to her about some of the filth that's flooded her life. You know, when she feels like opening up. I don't push. I can see its hard for her. But I also know talking through it can help. Better than the alternative by a long shot. When people don't work these kind of things out, they tend to act them out. Thus the abuse spiral is born.

Speaking of an abuse spiral, Jack apparently also gave Em a little crafting lesson. Some rather advanced stuff for someone who 'doesn't know how to craft'. I'm watching you boy-o.

I've been drilling her on what he taught her, just to be safe so she doesn't accidentally hurt herself with it. Jack certainly didn't teach her any of the tentative safety precautions and soon she won't have the safety net of this look to protect her so we have to make sure she has everything she learned while she was here absolutely nailed down.

I couldn't live with myself if my trying to help her accidentally got her killed.

A final congratulations to Sloth for subduing the Fire Cult in the most assholish way possible. Good job. I certainly hold your rash actions don't have any unforeseen consequences.

And a congratulations for April and Slicer. Have fun living the the dream you to. Or a the closest available proximity to it there of.

Fracture out!

Thursday, April 2, 2015

Dog's Life: Got a scent I can't follow

Boring. If I had to pick a word to describe this March, it'd be boring. And that's not to say that I haven't made any progress. No, I've been working my ass off, to an extent. But the work itself is boring, no two ways about it.

Thanks to Vallus, I know the Doll Ralph and I are looking for is someone within Black Lake's mask-wearing police force. Gotta be one of 'em, or at least I hope, else I'm barking up the wrong tree. (Bad fucking joke, so sue me.) Let me tell you something: if you have never seen a cop wearing a mask like some fucking proxy, count yourself lucky. That shit is creepy as hell, and I spend a lot of time around proxies these days. Somehow it's more unsettling to see them wear a uniform.

So I've been following a bunch of these fuckers around, and trying to nail down their routines on and off the clock. That last part is difficult, since they're all wearing masks, and there's no telling who's who once they disappear into their station and reappear without the masks on. Fortunately I've got a pretty keen eye, and after a while, managed to pin down one of the guys by the way he walks. Not before I'd spent several fucking weeks staring out of my car window at the bastards in agonized boredom. But I pinned him, all the same.

Now, this particular guy I started tracking on a hunch. And apparently my intuition for this kind of shit is pretty good, because it turns out he's got an odd routine some days.

That hotel Vallus is staying at, the one Ralph and I had to duck out of when we first arrived in Black Lake? Yeah, this guy visits it at least three days a week, once before his shift, and once right after he's off. That right there is one helluva red flag. I don't see any other cops with a similar routine, visiting some place like that or even that hotel in particular.

This kind of suspicious behavior gets me wondering, so I leave off my stake-out of the rest of the force and track this guy a little while. Standard routine, by the looks of things, except for that one consistent deviation from the norm. Weird shit, y'know?

So I went to the hotel once ahead of when I knew he'd be there, and I hung around fiddling with my cell phone like I was waiting for someone. Eventually, my guy came in, and made a bee-line for a door marked 'employee's only'. He got in no problem, without so much as a flash of his badge or ID. I don't think I have to point out how fucking suspicious that is. I tried to follow him through the door, but the guy at the desk caught me almost immediately, like he'd been watching for that kind of thing. Doesn't make me feel terribly confident, but it is what it is. I played it off cool like a simple mistake, and the guy seemed like he bought it so I left.

And that's where I'm at now. That door is not budging for me, I'm pretty goddamn sure. I'm out of options, so, knowing what I know...

Vallus. You've got the in here. As a guest at that hotel, you have the best look at what's going on behind closed doors, and the most opportunities to figure out if this fucker is our guy. I know we ain't exactly friends, and I haven't done much to change that, but this is something slipping around right under both our noses. Any help you can lend is much appreciated. Since I know you read this fucking thing, I figured this was the best way to get in contact with ya. Just...comment or whatever letting me know you'll help out. If you don't want to, at least I'll know I'm on my own with this one.

So there it is. The whole of my adventure this past month, it would seem. Fucking Black Lake. There's something eerie about this place. Or something is off with me, maybe? I don't know. The TV stations from the Loop in Fracture's compound followed me here. Can't get a damn thing but fucked up horror shows on the scummy hotel TV. Oh well.


Sunday, March 22, 2015


Jack here. Fracture wanted to use this slot in our posting schedual ( Yes, there this is a fucking mandatory posting scheduled this blog adheres to. That fucker has spreadsheets and dates written down and shit. Its almost as weird as the grill cheese thing.) to talk about negotiations with Slicer's little cell of Fallen proxy.

I love negotiation talks with losers that can't let go and move on from a dead gutted order as much as the next guy but I NEVER get to fucking post on this blog so I'm stealing it! Picasso and tracker can fill in the details on what was said themselves on Picasso's blog. This is my fucking blog time!

And I want to use this time to bitch about the injustice and favoritism I've been seeing since Emily got here. When I was first time told she was gonna get crafting lessons I didn't think anything of it. Shes smart. She can probably learn to craft and shit. Seemed fine. But you know why I'm not allowed to learn to craft?

"You're unstable. You've got raw talent but you're liable to hurt yourself and others throwing one of your inane little fits."

I which is fair... I guess? For the record, my fits aren't inane. Its not my fault everyone is a shit head and insist on pissing me off.

Back on target, you know who is more unstable than I am? EMILY. She has broken down into a feral violent animal on twice now. Which seemed normal the first time it happened. Me and Maggot beat the shit out of each other the first time we make eye contact on any given day. Breaking into a fight is normal... for me at least. Nobody else seems to do that shit.

But I realized something was wrong with her the second time it happened. When I pin down Maggot, he stops. He acknowledges his loss and I stab him and we part ways. When I beat Em she didn't stop. She hissed and growled and flailed and bit at me like a rabid fucking beast. I had to crush her nose into her head to make her stop. A measure I could only resort to because of the loop we live in. I don't know what I would have done if this kind of thing happened like in a parking lot or something. I would have had to run or something. Because nothing short of putting the bitch down stopped her.

And apparently THAT is more stable than me? THAT'S FUCKING BULLSHIT.

I stop when I go down. I relent when I lose. And keep my head instead of degrading into a sick depraved animal and I deserve those lessons. Not her.

I confronted Fracture about it again recently.

"Fine. You want to know why you're not allowed to learn to craft?" he asked.

"No shit! This is bullshit. Either your reasoning is full of shit and you're lying to me or you're playing favorites and can't see how fucked in the head she is."

Fracture wrote something onto a piece of paper where I couldn't see it and then folded that piece of paper in half and handed it off to me.

"Read it in private in your room or something and told tell anyone or show anyone."

I clenched the note to my chest and ran to my room, trembling and excited. Truth at last!

You know what that fucking note said?!

'You're not allowed to learn to craft... because fuck you. That's why.'

I uh... might have lost it a little. Things got hazy. I remember charging down the hall firing my revolver in the spot Fracture was sitting.

He of course, had already bailed. Fucker. I don't deserve this. I'm sure I don't deserve much. What we want in this world has to be taken if its to be earned... but god damn it is this fucked up?

I mean am I crazy? People like to tell me I am but I'm pretty sure I know wrong when I see it. I CHOSE to ignore it.

I don't know. But I'm pretty sure its bullshit.

Signing off, Future Crafter Jake

Monday, March 9, 2015

Dog's Life: Finally a lead

Finally some shit worth talking about.

I know on my end, things have been kind of succinct. Uneventful. This Black Lake hunt isn't really something I wanted to do in the first place. Proxyism isn't, either, but what are you gonna do, right? So you can understand why I might be fuckin' reluctant to write about any of this, let alone the fact that up until now, I had fuck-all for leads.

I'm not exactly pleased as punch at how I got the goddamn leads though, I'll tell you that. Let me back up and explain.

I've been tailing Vallus for a while now. If you're reading this blog, you know who she is, you know that I've been on her trail, you know all this shit. But what you might have guessed, that I unfuckingfortunately did not, was that...she knew all of this shit too.

Yes, that bitch has let me trail her for weeks now, and never once bothered to pop over and say 'hello!'

I would be a lot more forgiving since she doesn't know what I look like, as such, only her fucking bitch friend showed up and, during our confrontation, decided to punch my lights out. That was fun. Almost got in a fist fight with a woman in broad daylight out on the street because she's touchy or something. Yeah, yeah, I promised, whatever. You don't hear me squealin.

The one useful thing to come out of this unfortunate encounter, besides the knowledge that I don't need to be as concerned about Vallus as I thought I did*, is that Vallus seems to believe our Doll is a police officer of some sort. Which, on the one hand, means that extra caution will be necessary. On the other, this is the first solid lead I've had since I got here, and since I'm basically working alone at this point it's good to have something to go on. Makes me feel damn swell, you know?

At this point I think it's worth noting that Ralph would likely make for a good investigative partner, if he weren't bound up in the motel room by Vallus' presence and the whole facade we have to keep up of just being regular tourists. I've gone out, seen a few sights, chatted with the locals a bit, smoked a few cigarettes.The usual cover story bullshit. But Ralph essentially can't go anywhere because if he does, he risks putting this whole thing in danger. It's frustrating, but until I've found our Doll or come up with something for him to do, he gets to chillax.

Lucky SOB.

A good magician never reveals his secrets, and so to it is with any good game plan. So I'm not putting my next move up publically until after the move's been made. Y'follow? But with a lead comes an actual, tangible direction for this that's my report. Hope you're happy Cat.


*Unless the note she had me pass on to Ralph was something serious. "I'm still going to kill you." The fuck does that mean? According to Ralph she's been sending him messages like that for years. Still haven't gotten around to asking him what that's about. Just hoping it won't interfere. Fucking Christ.

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Meanwhile In Georgia...

And now it's time for something completely different! Yay complete lack of focus!

Fracture here, by the way.

Be tea Double You, as the kids say. Do they say that? I think I heard one say that.

I'm rambling.

While Cerberus is out looking for the Doll in Black Lake, I decided to do a little research on Picasso's Slicer situation.

I'm referencing this specifically.

Somewhere in that lengthy exposition of post, Navi explains that Slicer boasted that he was part of major proxy organization that spanned several cities, one them being Atlanta, when they captured him. So they stole him so Slicer's Order wouldn't know someone was helping April.

As a figure head and ambassador for the Free Market, when I can be bothered to be, I decided I would personally head this up and see if such a large cell had actually managed to survive the Bureaucracies fall.

The answer is no, no one did not. The cell in Atlanta is much smaller than Slicer boasted. Its truly is a miracle it's held together isolated as it is for so long. I can say, however, that is an official Father sanctioned cell.

They operate out of a Walmart, have in house staffing, supplies and money to spare, a... working leadership hierarchy, and most importantly, an Oracle.

I was skeptical when they told me they had an oracle. False oracles have led proxies to ruin on more than one occasion. I was far less skeptical when I was told it was a little girl. My worries were laid to rest when I went to meet her.

Shes the real deal. She had a stack of papers predicting my arrival when I came in and was still feverishly drawing more like a child possessed. The greatest bit of truth though was the last thing she drew. It's crude picture of someone with a broken face holding up a guy. There is scribbled text across the page that reads 'The Angel's whore stole Slicer'. I could barely keep myself from braking down in laughter. Those are fighting words. I'd wager Picasso would snap that poor little girl's neck if she knew.

Further proof still was the little oracle through a panicked fit when she saw me and realized who I was... perhaps even saw what I am. She huddled on the floor in front of begging for mercy. I know the others get this kind of treatment all the time, but I so rarely do. It was a cool novelty.

I spared the poor thing my presence with haste before she had herself a heart attack to go talk to their leadership again, a man named Duke.

I handed him the pages and explained the situation carefully. What had happened, who I actually was (because I had been lying him him about that up til then), what I was gonna do to make this right, what I wanted from him and how I intended to compensate him for it, what the Free Market is, my crusade, the code of Ethics, and what I have to offer him.

We came to an understanding. He, unsurprisingly, has not accepted the code of ethics.

He and his people are still very wrapped up in the old ways and trying very hard to act like the Bureaucracy can still be saved. We call those kind of people 'Fallen' Proxies. Like angels lost and stranded in a order less world, they just can't let go of what they were and keep trying to recreate it. So while they have a real oracle, they chose to interpret the orders they're receiving as a call to hunt from Father because that how they were taught to understand thing in the old system. Progress is slow...

I think it broke Duke's heart a little when I told him how broad my influence was these days. In a lot of ways, I think I am what he aspires to be... and that might make him dangerous. Envy is a thing.

Whatever gripes he may harbor, hes at least being civil about it. We agreed that he gets first dibs on all activity going through Atlanta and in exchange hes agreed to report in on his groups activities so I may weigh in on his decision making with a stated understand that he has the final say at the end of the discussion if there even is one. I certainly have no intention of sitting of his shoulder telling him how to handle every little thing.

He has also agreed to let me and my people buy, order, sell, and ship through him at a discount. A reasonable one. It wouldn't be fair if I wasn't letting him turn any kind of profit off of me. That would be bad for the market. Hes also offered up room and board for passing proxies. In exchange for all that I offered up access to the Docks the Free Market controls in the Atlanta area. Our people there keep storage, offer room and board, and know this nifty little trick where they make corpses disappear.

And as a final exchange I offered to pay for the time Slicer has spent in our custody and to, for a little while at least, keep him with us on Retainer while we get April's business with him handled. To which Duke reluctantly agreed. To make sure everything is on the level, hes having me take a Proxy named Tracker up to meet Slicer, April, Navi, and Picasso. Hes apparently a friend of Slicers.

I'm writing this on my phone while he drives. We're making pretty good time. We should be there tomorrow morning.

Picasso show Slicer this post and untie him. Everything is fine. We've settled things and he can be a free man again. Get to work settling his and Aprils... business I guess. Tracker will be there soon to make sure you're behavior.

I'd join you lot but... I have some not dying to do else where. You understand I'm sure.

And try to sort this all quickly before Slicer costs us a small fortune.

Fracture out.

Wednesday, February 11, 2015


I miss the goddamn Timberwolves.

Seriously, I'm going on record here, I like the way they operate better. None of this status report bullshit, relaying long-winded descriptions of who killed who, where, and why. You just tell one of your buddies the job is done and that's that. Go out for a beer, pay tribute to the angel, make your way back to base for some drink and some screwing. And I miss the guys that I ran with, they were friendly, honest guys who knew how to laugh and who weren't so fucked in the brain.

Did I tell you how they beat the living Hell outta me when I first went looking for them with those mask shards stuck in my face? Good times, good times...

I know this status report thing is late. I've been running around like a chicken with its head cut off for days, mostly, trying to wriggle my way around Vallus' obnoxious ass and seek out this doll at the same time. I gave Fracture the heads up on that lovely bit of news, and he had nothing much useful to say about the situation except wishing us some more good luck. That's not an attack on the Cat, either, it's the truth. Not sure there's anything he could have done for us in our current position.

Sniffing out this doll, though, is proving to be difficult. I knew it would be. The scent is cold, probably being obscured even, and the local hotspots don't tell a story. Bars; clubs; pubs; nothing. Hipsters; professionals; homeless; haven't seen anything telling. Unless one of them is my doll, in which case I'm probably fucked.

There's not much to go on. And since I can't have Ralph out in the field much, if at all, I've basically got this case to myself. Vallus would recognize his ass if he so much as set foot within a fifty-foot radius of her, I can guarantee it. Because that's just what I need right now. Tempted to investigate her, see if maybe she's on the same trail I am, but knows more. It could be worth a shot.

Then again, it could also get Ralph and I both killed. 

I have a bad fucking feeling in the pit of my stomach about this mission. 


Friday, January 30, 2015

While the Dogs Away

The Cat will play. I'm 4% sure that's how the saying goes. I mean, when was the last time you saw mice play? Fucking never, that's when. You know what animal plays? Cats. You know when? When they send Cerberus on missions to deal with his claustrophobia. What do we play? Pictionary! Jack is shit at pictionary for some reason. Like he doesn't actually look at things when he deals with them. When prompted to draw a tree by his card, he draws something far closer to a shoe.

Weird right?

All joking aside, while Cerberus is out hunting I've been keeping busy. David asked me to watch Em. Which was awkward.

I mean I blew thousands of dollars scouring all of Germany for her at one point and then when I found out he had her I threatened to take her by force and made a whole scene at a cafe... but now that I have her I had no idea what to do now. I kind of stopped caring... I guess?

I don't know. That sounds really harsh. I'm more than happy to have her. I just don't really remember why I was so hellbent on it before. I'm a different person now. I don't remember the train or thought or emotion. Its complicated or something. Suffice to say, shes here and well. As is Maggot and Ryan.

Ryan is as hollowed as ever and Maggot is as mean as ever... to everyone else. Think it's still protecting Em because it's still following Em around like a duckling even as it assaults and harasses Jack. Classy.

Em seems well... mostly. Prideful and guarded as ever. Which is a good thing. That means shes still fighting. Its what you want to see. I have seen her... freak out every now in then. Jack in particular brought Jessica up and I though Em was about to hyperventilate. Boys as sensitive as a brick to the face sometimes.

With David's blessing, I do believe I'd gonna try to teach Em some crafting while shes here. She was thrilled by the prospect and giddy when I told her she David approved. So we'll see if she has that in her soon.

In more worldly affairs, Picasso found out there's a prominent Fallen proxy cell down in Georgia. Apparently the cell is where the proxy (Slicer) that was hunting April came from so I'm gonna go see if I can get them to calm their tits and back the fuck up... but with classier words. Just as soon as I find the fuckers.

 Cerberus, if you're reading this, get back to work!

Fracture out.