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.