Fruitful

Fruitful is all I can really describe this last week as to be perfectly honest. It’s like when you manage to line all the parts up just right in Tetris and a full four lines of blocks disappear leaving nothing to show they were ever there but your own sense of satisfaction and a shit load of points leaving you curious if you’re finally going to hit the high score and surpass all others who came before.

Since Ralph left a wopping high score of… let’s say 3, he did maybe three things right in his entire life, that means I’ve reached the top with the four points I made off my Tetris alone. Yay me.

First point:
My brainwashing sessions with Firecracker and whisper produced absolutely amazing results; we can send her back to Duckie as soon as possible without her freaking out anymore thus ensuring the continued existence of two valuable murderous assets.

Second point:
Not long after we finished manually reprogramming Firecracker Whisper had to take off and go into hiding. Apparently while he was out his entire office staff was wiped out and he is worried he’s going to be the next victim on Morningstar/Nightscream’s crusade.

While I am myself worried over the crusade and what it may bring, I know I have nothing to fear of it. Traitorous though I am, I have never crossed, disobeyed, or done anything to upset Father in anyway. So fuck the angels, I know I’m safe.

With whisper gone I now control all of Prometheus’ resources. Better hide those for now though, I’d hate to be mistaken for a tool (Highest).

Third Point:
In the chaos created by the war I started in Ember's organization, I managed to pluck a few of the smaller cells who were looking rather desperate for an out in the conflict. It was, after all, a war they never wanted over a matter they probably never considered until Mr. Fay brought it up. I granted them a full pardon and they're now enjoying room and board at the compound. They’ll prove interesting assets.

Point Four:
It would seem dear Duckie has finally began to see the light and is beginning to realize what a poor proxy he’s been. Always questioning and picking at the Masters will. Poor manners, that’s what that is.

This point has an unfortunate negative point attached. Duckie seems to be… reverting. That’s the best word I can put to it. 

He’s pulling a Trent and refuses to talk. I can understand where both of them got that annoying little habit from but it is extremely difficult to try to coordinate and communicate with a fucking mute. Honestly, I actually kind of liked the Mask cult with the exception of that one annoying fucking principle. I mean how do expect to draw in more members when the first step of initiation for your cult is you can’t fucking talk. Fucking morons.

I’m going to see if I can’t find a way to fix this.
Fracture Out.

My Fracture Lies Over the Ocean

This is designation ‘Fracture’ checking in.

The three of you might be curious where I’ve been following my long and quite unprecedented absence from both posting on this blog and from the company of Mask squad’s operations as chronicled on Subject 926’s blog, ‘Wrath is Eternal’. To that I say… fuck you! I’m a grown adult and I can do whatever the hell I want without having to explain jack shit to anyone. You’re not my fucking mom!

That said, let me tell you where I’ve been.

After I disappeared following a short hunt in Florida, I popped back to the compound and checked out our experimental anti-sleep agent from here on referred to EAS#38. I took EAS#38 and popped back to a safe radius near New York and snuck back to the hotel. While Duckie was fast asleep in his room I started sending vaporized doses of EAS#38 to him through the vents until he eventually freaked out and tried to run. Kind of funny how easy it was to scare him off actually.

I chased Duckie down like the dog he is and hit him with increasing doses till he couldn’t sleep at all. Once I confirmed he was suffering from hallucinations brought on by the sleep deprivation, it was just a matter of waiting till Duckie left his hiding spot. Once he did, we snuck in and set up our show and then herded him back to the room to put the game into effect.

I for one think the Project was a success. It’s hard to say what the shit head was actually seeing but my guess is he was seeing ghosts of past victims and not the hollowed I was setting at him with pictures of past victims stapled over their faces. And how he screamed when I came in with a wig and lifted him into the closet by his throat.

Priceless.

So if only for his suffering, I’m calling this a win.

I think I'll give him a day to rest before I tip off his boy toy as to where he is.
Fracture out.