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!

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.

-Cerebrus

Hypocrisy

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

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 case...so that's my report. Hope you're happy Cat.

-Cerebrus

*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.

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.

Bloodhound

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. 

-Cerebrus

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.

What now?

When I said I am not a writer, I kind of had this vain hope that Fracture would take the hint, remove me from his blog, and let me just get my work done in peace. I'm going to let everyone who reads this thing take a moment to bet on it: did Fracture do anything of the sort?

No dice.

Instead, I'm going to do a write up about where Ralph and I stand on the Black Lake operation. I'm not entirely sure it's a good idea to post this thing in public right now, but, well, fuck it. Gives me something to do while we chart our next move I suppose.

So, as Fracture pointed out in his last post, I'm travelling with Mama Ralph. A Fire Cultist. Which is kind of surprising. I'm not too clear on the politics I'm caught in between right now on that, but it seems to me that the Fire Cult wouldn't have left behind one of their own unless they had a damn good reason. I've tried and fucking failed to wrap my head around it, but other than his apparent lack of control over his own, well...fire...I can't see why Ralph has stuck around.

I had to ask Fracture if he was trying to send this fucker to die. Cutting the strings off a Doll is not easy, it's hard, it's mean, it's very likely to kill you. But do you know what Fracture tells me?

"Life is precious, Cerberus. If all goes well, you will both be coming back to me."

Some sappy bullshit, right?

Still, in hindsight, I'm kind of glad. Ralph has a pretty good sense of humor, for a guy who only speaks in emotionless monotone. At least I think it's humor. Hard to tell with the guy.

Arriving in Black Lake was almost nostalgic. Almost. This place is doing a lot better than the last time I was here. As bad as it was the first time, I half expected the whole place to just be on fire. But reconstruction, whatever that means exactly, seems to be going alright. Ralph and I briefly discussed the fact that the cops in this town don't know that we're here on Fracture's orders, or that we're even proxies at all. Wish I had fucking known that before going in, but what do you expect? Fracture is many things, but not talented in mission briefings.

The original plan was to head to Black Lake's primary hotel, the only one that existed before the incident of old. A number of scummy motels have opened up on the outskirts of town, apparently, in the wake of reconstruction. But we figured, no one knows we're here, why not enjoy the luxury of a nice hotel room?

Yeah, fucking no.

As soon as we hit the lobby, Ralph flips a bitch, turns and walks right back out. I'm thinking we've been spotted, so I duck out behind him and light a cigarette so it looks like we're not just standing there like the suspicious assholes he's just made us into. I ask him what the fuck is up. He tells me 'Vallus is in the lobby.'

Fanfuckingtastic. We have an X factor.

So we chat a bit about why she might be there, try not to draw any attention, and then head to one of the crappier motels in this town. Not before Ralph calls me both over-dramatic and indecisive, however, because I think it's stupid to have him path his way into a hotel room with me. Proxies always have to do shit all convoluted, you know that?

The room's not great, but it'll do. I've honestly had worse. But this Vallus shit is a bit of a curveball, so we're dealing with that.

Not much more to be said at the moment. If and when we figure out whether Vallus is a threat of any kind, we'll deal with her, and in the meantime we're going to keep looking out for the Doll. Personally, I don't think that oughta be hard. Dolls have always seemed pretty obvious to me. Guess we'll find out if this one is similar.

-Cerberus

Go Back to Where You Once Belonged

Dododododododo.

Rannnnng, do do do do.

Drum solo.

Good times.

Hey there. Fracture here.

So apparently the Red Witch is trying to recruit my people out from under me. That's classy as fuck, let me tell you. Although I supposed I did kind of still Cerberus to began with... what with the torturing, outing him to his own kind that he spill information and got a bunch of his own killed, and then dumping him in the desert to fend for himself while they hunted him like a dog.

I was being merciful. Le Croix wanted to kill him. That lady does not fuck around.

I do, however, consider it an honor that I rank as more trustworthy than Miss Red though. Eat it bitch!   ....Although that assumes Cerberus isn't just too lazy to leave. It presents an interesting conundrum.

I suppose I should take for affection, that which can be explained my laziness...

Ellipses aside, I consider this a big win.

Had an usual urge align that sentence to the right. Not sure whats up with that.




Moving along, Cerberus said a lot of nasty shit in his post. Which is kind of just how he is. His method of communication is something akin to a slew of insults. And you know what, that's fine. Call my blog layouts boring. Cause you know what? They are. Those are proxy problems and I fucking love them. Blogging is love. Blogging is life. Even more so for a lot of runners. But that can't afford the time they would need to make their blogs spiffy like mine. So I do it for those who can't. Its respects or something.

Also, I'm not a business man preaching and practicing medicine. That's ignorant. I'm a business man cultivating, collecting, and trading in the currency of the gods. One of the few things most fears respect, understand, and desire. I barter in life. Every afflicted soul hangs in the balance and there in power in influencing who goes where and when. For those who have seen into the abyss, there is no rest. Not in this life or the next.

If I take a moment to pointedly ignore the really foreboding, cryptic, concerning shit in slipped into his post, his last major concern was in how bored he was hanging out here. Well fine. Lets put your ass to work!

So I've sent Cerberus out to a place he should be pretty familiar with. Hes going back to Black Lake, where I originally abducted him. Its not the shit hole it was 2 and a half years go when Picasso, Moth, and Navi kicked off a domino effect that killed half the population and invited in a massive invasion of fear servants to try to take the town as their own.

After myself and the pseudo-proxy police force I had put in place had pushed the servants out of the town reconstruction started. The town had already half burned under the weight of the catastrophy and the fear servant siege so the official cover story was there was a massive fire and subsequent riots caused by further panic after some animal attacks before the police were able to get a hand on the situation and place everyone under martial law until help could arrive.

Since then things have slowly been returning to normal for that poor little town. Most of the survivors, who didn't take to running, have joined the town's secret proxy militia. A generation that truly understands from first hand experience how important it is to keep the town servant free... non-proxy servant at least.

But construction and renovation to rebuild the town saw a lot of strangers passing in and out of poor black lake and it is an absolute certainty that some of the new inhabitants of servants in disguise. And in the interest of keeping the town 'Neutral', you know the proxy controlled kind of neutral, I've made it my responsibility to keep the town free of the other servants.

So I'm sending Cerberus up there to eject a servant we've recently found evidence of. A Doll. Insanely dangerous game to hunt I know. And that's why I'm sending him with Ralph. Ralph, is a fire-starter. In fact, the only male fire-starter in Fire Cult history. And he was kind enough to abandon the fire cult and return to my side when 'the Fire' lost her shit and declared war on the rest of the Free Market.

He has full immunity for his actions Jen. I mean it. I need /SOME/ fire cultists if you're gonna be throwing these insane little fits and I need him more than most.

So.... good luck Cerberus and Ralph! Try not to die!

The Lord Guardian Fracture out!

Competition for my heart

You know what I hate most about Loops? The sense of claustrophobia. The Lab isn't small, but it's a Loop, so it feels small. Every room, even the big living room, feels like it's two-foot-by-two-foot small. I don't know why. If I had to guess, I'd say it was because it's not real, and the mind can tell, and even though it looks like there's all that space to walk around in, the brain knows it's being tricked.

Or maybe magic fucking elves shoot invisible loads all over everything and it's taking up all the room. I don't know shit.

Basically, I'm walking around the Lab not doing anything, and it's driving me up the imaginary walls. I don't know what Fracture has me here for. I know he's up to something, he's always up to something, from the looks of something. But blog layouts? Seriously? I don't give a shit.

The most exciting thing that's happened to me since I got the mask pieces removed was yet another job offer from a completely different proxy. I'm starting to think I'm some kind of valuable commodity to these guys. Almost as soon as I'd set up an email, I got one from the 'Red Witch' down in Vegas. 

Now, look. I started this journey a timberwolf, then I was rogue, and now I'm... something else... but I've heard the rumblings already. That bitch in Vegas, she's the one everyone whispers about. Not scared whispering, really, but it's more like dread. Exhausted dread, like she's something they would rather not have happen but know they can't avoid. It creeps me right the fuck out, and I know that at least once when I was a timberwolf, a bunch of our guys got pummeled by her guys.

She and I, we got into a bit of a conversation, over a few days. Seems I'm not the only one she's courting for her operation, God knows why. Her given reason was 'the more, the merrier' but who's buying that? Personally I think it's just a standard proxy cell she likes to make people think is more mysterious than it is, which, whatever, proxys are all about mysticism it seems like. Or at least this weird cross-breed between mysticism and science. Fracture likes to pretend he's a doctor slash businessman, preaching and practicing medicine at the same time. 

Historically, not a great idea.

So of course I turned the Witch down. Who the hell accepts a job offer from a witch? Maybe I don't have anything going on here in the Lab, but at least what I do have is something I'm familiar with. Fracture is a shady bastard. But he's got me this far. Fuck it.

That's all there is to tell right now, I think. I'm still not a writer, and nothing much has changed since the last time I wrote one of these. That's a lie. Everything has changed. Everything is always changing, a world in flux in need of order. I'll report back when I have the chance and actual news to talk about.

'Red Witch.' What a fucking joke.

New Layout

Hello there! Exciting news! I've redone the this blog's layout! And now I'm finishing 100% more of my sentences with exclamation marks! Help me! It's a sickness!

Silliness aside, I am really excited for about this reformatting. If you haven't noticed it yet, there is now information being laid out for you on both sides of these blog posts. That doesn't sound cool but it was actually a huge pain in the ass. See, adding the second bar was gonna make this middle area smaller. So I made the blog width wider. But then the black boxes were covering my glorious Cheshire cat background!

And that was not going to do but I needed the blog width. But by the miracle of new age magic, see fucking with the html code, I've fixed the problem. Everything under the link bar but above the footer has been pushed over exactly 3 centimeters! So now I can fit all this information and my glorious Cheshire cat in one place. What a time to be alive.

To celebrate my awesome and my awesome accomplishments I'm introducing the 'reports', They are gonna be kept on the left side of the screen there.

Overtime I'm gonna add more and more reports about abnormalities I've encountered over the years and fears and their cults and organizations and monsters and dimensions and call kinds of shit I've come to know as true. Read at your own risk. What you learn here may very well bleed into your own lives, if bleeding theory is to be believed.

Should you valiantly press forth, welcome to my world! Enjoy your stay.

Tonight we're learning about a destroyed/warped artifact of unknown origin I like to call, the 'Bell'.

Have fun! And remember, Don't Die!

The lord Guardian Fracture, out.

I am not a writer.

There's a running gag in my life. I become what I'm not without wanting to. I didn't really mean to end up a Timberwolf, but an ambush is an ambush, and you fight back when your life is threatened you know? That whole gig was something else. Fighting monsters, seeing monsters, fighting people who look like monsters...not bad I guess, but not what I ever wanted for myself. And I didn't and don't want to be some bargaining chip, some sort of weird pawn in a cosmic chess match, but I guess that's what I am now, too. Thanks to Fracture. He thinks we're best buddies now or something. Motherfucker. I am what I am not.

And now I'm a writer.

I don't want to be a proxy. I want nothing to do with any of these...weird assholes. Not anymore. Drug-addled, pseudo-religious thugs...masked cultists...whatever the hell those bug people are, or the String Slaves...I'm tired of all of this bullshit already. But anyone reading saw what went down. Fracture's enemies decided to take their beef with him out on my face, and made me hated in every Fear cult compound that would have otherwise taken me in after that train wreck of an incident.

I spent a long time wandering in the desert by myself. Way too long.

Did I mention I'm not a writer? Yeah, I think I did, because I'm no goddamn good at this. What I'm supposed to write about, I guess, is the deal with Fracture. He's promised me in absolutely uncertain terms that, as long as I'm polite and help him do his work like a good little Proxy Bitch, he'll look for any Loops I might have passed through in an effort to fully restore my face. Good luck to him. Can't say I remember ever having encountered a Loop before this asshole waltzed into my life followed by a parade of various psychopaths.

The bastard in the white coat gave me my own room within his complex. The place is...probably a Loop, I think? Because it's so convoluted. Impressive, in a way, though by no means the most impressive building I've been in during my time as a servant. I'd roll over and try to watch television, but there's nothing on but screams and gore. Some kind of demented 'portal to Hell' channel or something, I haven't quite figured that out yet.

And I get to room with Jack, the Psycho Eight Year Old! An eight year old! With a knife! And eyes that never close, singing showtunes for no damn reason! How fun is that?

Not very. None of this is fun. Serving Slenderman is not fun. Fighting other Fear Cultists sucks. Dealing with Fears is a goddamn nightmare, sometimes literally. Life is one great big mess of evil and sickness and...I don't even know where I'm going with this. I don't trust anything anymore, not even my own head, and that's the only thing I really know for certain right now. Oh, and that Fracture is lying through his teeth about fixing my face. Yeah, duh, asshole.

But, see, what else is there left for me but to ride this out? I gave up what little I had to be a Timberwolf. I gave up being a Timberwolf when that turned out to be complete bollocks, too. None of those fucks would give me the time of day when I needed them. No one would. At least for right now I have a bed that isn't sand, food that actually tastes good, and walls to stare at when I'm listless trying to figure out what I'm going to do next.

I'm Cerebrus, by the way. That's one more thing I am certain of.

Why Do I Even Fucking Bother

Why? I can't think of one fucking reason anymore. It never works out. Its never going to work. They always fucking pull this shit for no fucking reason. And they always have the audacity to fucking apologize for is if I should be forgiving them when they pull this crap. As if they had no other choice. We'll you know what? I don't feel sorry for you Sloth. Little Jack gave you what you deserve. In fact, I'd say he game you a taste of what you deserve. At this point, I feel like I should start taking fingers every time you piss me off. Asshole.

Hmmm... Little Jack... I'd give him 7 years before that loyalty ship sinks...  Maybe 4. Not sure... why I bother.

Speaking of hopeless efforts in eventual Futility, I've been out recruiting.

I found Cerberus after Sloth was done having his Patties, two masks and Little Jack, brand his face with broken mask pieces like the incredibly fucking classy gentlemen he is. I called ahead to the local proxy cell to make sure no one was proactively hunting poor Cerberus and if they were to get them to back off.

Although I suppose calling it a local Proxy Cell doesn't do it justice. Cerberus was in Las Vegas and Vegas is home to an entire Proxy Order that spans a wide range of New Slender Region. Slender County being a broad strip of land between the cities of Philadelphia and New York. New Slender County being a broad stretch of land between Vegas and Phoenix. They are lead beautiful Cordelia, better known as the Red Witch. A very powerful crafter by all accounts. While Cordelia agrees with my stance on Ethics, and has been helping make strides in our initial push back against various fear cults, the relationship between me and her, between her order and the Free Market, are tense with little love, the bare minimum require respect, and active shows of good will with excessively wide Cheshire grins and life threading flirtation on both side. Reminds me of my days as a Bureaucrat.

For a pet name, since the Order of Oracles is practically extinct now and I would hate to associate dear Cordelia with a sinking ship, I've named their hierarchy 'the Cabal', making them Cordelia's Cabal. Because Alliteration.

So I called the old Witch up and let her know I was gonna be in town, and was going to be taking a branded off her hands, and made sure she knew not to kill him. We then exchanged pleasantries (the aforementioned cryptic flirtatious threats and power plays and interrogation). When she couldn't dig any answers as to why I wanted a timberwolf so bad so hung up and then I was free to operate.

I'm gonna be sparse on details because this post is already kind of getting up there in length. Cerberus, following his branding, seems to have hitting the bottle pretty hard. Like really hard. In the two days I spent watching him before finally approaching him all he had done was drink in bars, buy alcohol, and drink in his shitty little hotel room just off the Vegas strip. I didn't even know they had shit holes so close to the Vegas strip. I guess even poor people need a place to stay before they go out to blow all their money.

I popped in behind him when he was on his way back into his room to drink himself to sleep on the third night. I popped in between him and the door to give him little room to run and force him to face me. And he did... with a knife. He was very not happy to see me. He accused me of having him branded and ruining his life. I explained that when I exiled him we were trying to kill each other so that was fair play and that I had nothing to do with the branding. He didn't much care to listen to me... nor did he really believe me. When he finally asked what I wanted why I was here I told him I was there to unruin his face.

That got him to lower the knife he had pulled, if only a little. He seemed skeptical. I think he was anticipating a trick of some kind but fortunately for him I had no such cause for tricky or other fuckery. He had nothing to lose at this point and we were in Vegas so he decided to take my gamble and followed me through the Path to my personal loop.

Once there I put him down on a hospital bed and strapped him nice and tight. Starting feeling him painkillers and morphine. Had Jack kick the door open holding a bloody mallet and cleaver just as he was passing out to scare the shit out of him when he was at his very must vulnerable and unable to act. And under the force of the drugs, he passed out anyways. After that I left Doctor Jack to operate. Hes an artist with a scalpel, much to horror most days, but for once he got to do something constructive with it. A few hours later, Jack had removed all the mask pieces from Cerberus' face and had his face wounds nice and cleaned up. It was a good think we did this. He had not been cleaning under the mask and some of those open burns had gotten infected.

We're gonna keep him under for a few days while I give him loop therapy. By the time hes ready to woken up his face will be healed. He's still gonna look a little fucked up. I can't remove the burn marks on his face but now he'll live and won't be wearing an attention grabbing proxy beacon.

And after that, we'll see if we can't get him to join us.

The Lord Guardian Fracture out.

Suddenly Horse Shit

So I seem to have triggered a domino effect again myself. My efforts to prepare Moth to be a sacrifice seem to have pissed Nat off. Shes so mad, in fact, that the only person shes talking to is Devil and shes outright refusing to see Sloth the asshole shes supposed to be protecting or something.

Sloth, the mopey useless asshole that he is decided that he wasn't gonna work if that was the case and called me demanding I pick up the slack because this is my fault. Fine. Whatever. Fuck it. I don't need to be out and about hunting cultists down. I mean, I had a time sensative recruitment that needed to go down this week but I can always retrack that asshole down. So I come back to lend a hand and that Sloth refuses to do annnnnnything. He says hes going off to do things but I keep finding him napping in places he doesn't think I'll find him like under his bed, the dining room table, the closet, and even in the fucking cupboard. I swear to god if he put half the effort into his work as he does into hiding the Free Market would have taken over all of north america by now.

And trying to do this job is a gigantic pain in the ass now that I have Jack. He constantly bitches and whines that he has nothing to do, and that hes bored, and that this is child cruelty. I kicked him out of the loop. Now he keeps calling asking to be let back in. He is the neediest fucker. Hes worse than a car.

And while I was busy dealing with both of those useless shitheads sass, Moth up and fucking left and I have no idea where the fuck he went and that's gonna make it a serious pain in the ass to look after him if I can't fucking find him.

So I told Sloth I had had enough. The Free Market is his fucking problem now and I'll fucking leave it to crash and burn if he doesn't man the fuck up. I have other things I have to. He got down on his hands and knees and literally begged for another few days to take care of some business of his own before he resumes control.

Hes so fucking useless.

I as a head up to everyone, especially Nat, I'm at the compound so if you need something now is the time to ask.

Fracture out.

A Mid Fall Night's Breeze

So this post is personal shit. You murder and science lovers can just skip over this one if you like. Everyone else, prepare to get personal~

So, I mentioned last post that Jack made me late for a hot date that could very well be the death of me. Although I think I just used the word 'date'. If ever I mention a date in a later post, the 'could very well be the death of me' is implied. I seem to have a type.

So, I bet you're asking yourself one thing: 'Who's the Lucky girl?'

The answer would be David. And I'm gonna tell him you called him a girl. Brace for death, hehe.

Yes, I had a date with the Legendary David Banks, star of the Free Market's most popular post series: 'My Little David, Rape is Magic.' I'm proud to anounce that I have not died or been raped... but there was magic.  ^_^


So, like I said, we showed up late. David invited us in and I got to see Em. She looks okay. Shes unfortunately wheelchair bound now... kind of wish I had done more when they I found out she was taken.

I gave her a gift. The most glorious of gifts! A white lab coat. She looked spiffy as shit in it. Almost makes up for the doing nothing dealing with my own problems when she got shot in the back thing. You know... almost.

We left Jack with the Em so they could be babysat by Maggot. Mute babysitter is the best babysitter. They can't complain afterwards. Same age babysitter is also the best babysitter, because they can just watch each other.

While they were at home, David and I went out to the steak house and had a ritzy and classy fucking meal. Shit was top knotch, if can say so myself in the classiest way possible. 

After that we went a walk and talked for a while. He expressed his guilt over what happened to Em. 

 "But the person who did was because of me. I let her go and told her to run. Ignored Andre in favor of Jessica. Left her alone."

Poor thing. I could sense it was pointless to try to convince him otherwise so I swapped topics for a while. Eventually we found ourselves on a park bench were we could start out on the stars in the inky black sky as we continued to talk about where our lives are now. I told him I've taken up hunting the cultists for other fears. Asked for pointers.

"Know what you're up against."

"That's one strength I do have," I retorted with a laugh.

After that things got awkward and silent. He stared back and forth between the stars as if he was reading out answers to his own question in the sky.

"Fracture... what would happen if I tried to kiss you now?"

"Besides my hair potentially changing colors? I think I'd blush."

"You wouldn't object?"

"You're asking and everything. Very gentlemanly. How could I refuse it at this point?"

And we shared a gentle little kiss~

Not quiet what I was expecting from him but a pleasant surprise all the same. I decided to follow it up with a bit of Shakespeare.

"I do believe you kiss by the book."

"Odd. I'm not so great at reading."

"That could very telling of why then" I teased.

After that we went back to his place and, how can be gentlemanly with this?

I... made him a delivery~

But we stopped after that. We decided it would be best to take things a little slower than we were going. I'm far to classy to go all the way on a first date anyways. All in all, it was a lovely evening and I'm looking forward to another one.

On the flip side, Jack destroyed David's living room and trashed the kitchen... so we'll see if I'm getting another one after that... little fucking shit.

Fracture out.

If You Are Binging This Blog, Start here.

I'm serious. Everything before this is absolutely gibberish. If you must read it, know that most of it's entries really only make sense when in the context of events that were happening on the Wrath is Eternal blog and is best read along side Duckie's Entries for Wrath is Eternal.

With that said, I'm starting this blog back up for my own personal use again now that owner ship of Wrath is Eternal has passed from me to Sloth.

And now for some partially cryptic shit from my new side kick, Jack, Maggot and Sloth's replacement.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sound of loud footsteps could be heard throughout the small warehouse, echoing against the bare concrete floor and metal walls. They were gathered around a barrel fire, three of them, trying to keep warm as they stood watch over a light arsenal of pistols, knives, and bullets. The more Faithful one amongst them had a rifle out. He was pacing the ground from entrance to entrance diligently. Something his fellow timberwolves were ragging on him for.

"Calm the fuck down. Aint nothing gonna happen," said the first guard.

"Yeah. We've had this gig for half a year now. You'll freeze your ass off if you keep like that. Come stand with us. We'll get a card game going or something," said the second guard.

"I was sent here to intercept trouble. Trouble is coming. I will intercept it. Have you no Faith in my orders?" said the wandering third guard.

"God damn it, its like talking to a wall. News flash buddy, we're all here to 'intercept trouble'. Its what fucking guard duty is. You wanna catch a cold and die, thats your problem. We're playing cards," said a forth guard pulling a table over and pulling out a deck box from his bag.

Custom cards, Ritzy. 

They played through a round before the footsteps stopped.

"Yo, Raphi-uh... what the fuck was his name? Hey asshole, everything alright over there?"

And then the music started. It blared deafeningly loud through the warehouse in all directions.

"And when the coyotes, they sing in the park"

"What the fu-"

"It's when the city lights start fallin' for the sea"

And then the lights went out. Footsteps rang out along the side of the building.

"Shit!" and all three of the remaining guards stood up and fired at that wall.

"Did we get it?" asked one of them before a knife flew out of the darkness on his left and cut his throat open. He fired twice into the air, gasping for breath before slumping over into one of friends.

"While them roads are windin' down, and the flying men'll hit the ground"

The free one pulled a flashlight and held his gun out, firing at nothing at first in the direction that the knife came from before making a sweep with his flashlight confirming that there was nothing there. 

"Son of bitch. Jonny, is Eric gonna make it?" he asked in a frustrated tone, keeping an eye out so he wouldn't be snuck up on. To his horror, Jonny didn't answer. "Jonny?" he called again with a more concerned tone.

"Every motion is close to the touch"

He turned around to check on his buddies to find Jonny collapsed and braced into the fire barrel, his face sizzling against heated metal and his throat and stomach ripped open.

"By the Angel..." he whispered to himself in terror, "Fuck this. I'm getting out of here."

The song verse finished as he ran for the door in a blind rush.

"The coyotes sing when they taste on your lovin'"

He made it just out the door when a small figure jumped on his back and ripped his back open with his knfe, throwing it's weight forward to make sure the last surviving timberwolf fell forward.

He screamed in pain and started begging as the small figured grabbed the man by the back of his hair and pulled his head back, exposing his neck.

"No, no, no, NO, NO!" he pleaded as Jack slit his throat and stood up, pressing a button on a device tied to his wrist to make the music start one last time.

"Hello, we're comin' back for more

You know why we're comin' for you

You know we should be, we should be together

'Cause once we rock, we won't wanna stop

Not today or tomorrow

And not today or tomorrow, oh no

You better lock your doors

You know why, 'cause we want you

'Cause we like you a lot"

"Cute," I said stepping into view.

"Yeah? How did I do?" asked Jack with a bright grin, clearly proud of his little killing spree.

"Well it was a creative, well though out, well planned out, and then well executed... execution. It had lots of style and flare. None of them escaped or survived and you certainly got the job done."

"Fuck yes, I knew I rocked this!" he cheered hopping in triumph, a knife in one hand, his mask in the other.

"So I think I'll give this a D."

"What the fuck? I thought you said I did good."

"You did... but it took you three hours to set up this elaborate little thing you did and now I'm running late for a date. Grab your shit and get in the car. We're going."

"Fuck you Fuck Face, that was a solid C and you know it."

"Move!"

And then we left to salvage what was left of my dinner plans.

This is about what you can expect from me and my blog. Murder, some sciency stuff from time to time when I can be bothered to make anything I know public, and personal shit.

Hope you're into that.

Fracture out.

A Now Relevant Report

Lord Guardian Fracture, this is the Fire reporting in.

This information was not relevant enough to grant public disclosure status before but given new information provided to us from the blogger 'Lils', I think it's safe to say Picasso was involved.

On January 7th, the night Picasso apparently escaped our siege at Hope, some 12 hollows and 3 supervising masks encountered and engaged an unknown target trying to leave the city Hope is located in. Of those who engaged the target, 8 of the hollows and 2 of the masks met a violent end.

Given our new conformation of when Picasso escaped hope, she is all but confirmed to have been involved and was likely the original target they engaged.

Inspection of who did and did not die as a result of the engagement reveals further detail. The original 5 who engaged her all survived their encounter with mild burns and a few concussions. This implies Moth was present in the fight or Picasso would have surely killed all 5 as Moth shows mercy to hollows and Picasso doesn't.

We can not say for sure exactly when the 10 reinforcements arrived to join the engagement but the completely different manner in which they were dealt with implies they may have arrived after the original 5 that engaged Picasso had already been dealt with.

The completely different manner they were dealt with also implies the involvement of an unknown third party. These 10 were cut down in three different ways. The first few appear to have ax wounds, most likely Picasso's hatchets. The second method is by knife, most likely by the third party as while Picasso and Moth both have knives neither has made a point of using them. The third method confirms third party involvement where it had been speculative before. Someone with credible strength snapped the backs and necks a few of the reinforcements, something we know to be beyond both Picasso and Moth in active combat when engaged with multiple opponents.

Given our speculation of Moth's involvement and that he more than likely non-lethally brought the first 5 down but the not the 10 reinforcements, it might be assumed that Moth was killed or otherwise knocked unconscious by the reinforcements. Recent activity online would imply that he was merely knocked unconscious.

Of course, this is all speculation. With Picasso out of Hope I am recommending we break our siege of Hope and reallocate resources elsewhere. There are no other targets within Hope worth putting this much time into pursing.

--The Fire

Moth the Grid

Lord Fluffy, this is 'Devil' checking in.

I've finished digging through the files, reports, video feeds, and testimonies we collected from the Florida and Tennessee sites and I'm afraid our Truck and ATV lead on tracking Moth has gone completely cold.

A truck was reported stolen the day Cornelius 'Moth' Riles fled Florida. Much later reports reveal that the truck had it's plates swapped with ones taken from a mini-van in what I must assume was an effort to evade both us and the law. Not far from where Kenny was being kept, there is a sales record of an ATV matching our video footage. The ATV was reportedly sold to a 'Masked Man'. An interview with the salesman who made the sale revealed the mask's description to bear a very closely resemblance to Moth's.

A Masked figure matching Moth's description later reportedly sold both the truck and ATV at a used car lot for a few hundred dollars in Arkansas. The Mini-Van's plates, only recently discovered as stolen, flagged this morning leading authorities to the dealership to interview the salesman on his sale.

There have been, however, no more sightings of a masked man in that area since he sold the truck and ATV and while there were a few car sales that day to follow up on none of the buyers were masked or match Moth's description.

We suspect he is still on the move but we can no longer be sure of how he is moving. Given his known appearances, he has been making a wide arc towards Texas and is likely heading for Hope and Picasso but there is no telling when or how he will show up.

I recommend preparations be made to anticipate Moth's arrival and extremely likely interference in Picasso's apprehension.

^Devil^~>

Dotting the 'T's Crossing the 'I's

Lord Fracture sir, this is code named 'the Fire' reporting in a mission update for operation 'The Invisible Hand'.

Collaboration with 'Devil' and the hollows has finally yielded Fruit. All the necessary utilities are ready and have been prepped for use. Shipping can began as soon as orders start and roster templates have been automated to fill as necessary. I for one am very eager to see the reception of the project once it goes public.

On a sour note, operation 'Dead Painter' has reportedly failed. Our squads failed to bring down the Traitors Picasso/Firecracker and Moth/Trent and have since lost track of them. Clues are being collected on their where abouts but progress is increasingly slow going at the moment. With the completion of 'The Invisible Hand', 'Devil' will be reassigned to tracking their whereabouts.

His Eternal Flame Guide Us,
the Fire

Victory

Victory

Glorious, glorious victory. Let us not forget the brave sacrifices of those we lost along the way like Firecracker and Duckie who are both 100 percent dead. No doubts about that. We should probably remember Trent/Moth too, the traitor who cut down Firecracker to spite Duckie. Tragic, tragic stuff. But now the moment is up and we can forget about them, because fuck them, they aren’t here anymore. Just me and my victory. Life is sweet.

And then this happened:

“Congratulations child. Seems I won’t be killing you.”

“Hello disembodied voice… and my rooms on fire again. JEN!”

“Leave her. She is not necessary for this.”

“If you say so.”

“I have another request.”

“Of course you do. A simple hi and thank you would never do nowadays.”

“Watch your tone you pitiful little wretch. I need you to find me a suitable sh-… what is HE doing here?”

“Captain big, black, and quiet? No idea. He just sort of showed up and then stopped moving. Figured he was one of ours. Handed Jen this when I sent her over to investigate,” I explained showing the fire the picture I was holding.

“Using what’s left of my disciples as guinea pigs to explore dangerous unknowns.”

“She’s use to it at this point.”

“…,” and then for a moment I was engulfed in cold unburning flame. “One of these days cretin.”

“Not likely. In any event, he gave us this picture of a little boy so we went and grabbed him,” I said stepping out of the room and bringing out the child. “Like them blonde?”

“Never you mind!” the fire flared. “And thank you or something. Your continued efforts and devotion are… appreciated.”

“I bet,” I responded and after a moment the child was engulfed in flames. All the fire dissipated and when the child arose he was wearing piercing teal eyes.

“Back at last…” said the child hugging himself and taking a moment to jump for joy.

“So if we’re going to keep doing this, what should I be calling you.”

“Valtiel.”

“Original.”

“You and your constant indignities. You are certainly not worthy enough to call me by my name…”

“I’d just fuck it up to piss you off anyways pyroiel,” I said and as I finished that sentence the child threw out his hand in my direction and I was engulfed in flame for a moment once more. “You like doing that.”

“I have missed it. I long for the unfaithful so I may feast… this child’s passion will do to sustain me for now.”

“We were talking about names.”

“Right. If Samael is to have a champion then so am I. Refer to me and my new host as ‘Torchlight’.”

“Like… the game?”

“What? Like a lit touch you ridiculous creature.”

“… Yeah, sure. We’ll go with that, Torchlight.”

“Keep your ear to the ground, we may yet have more need you child,” said the child moving over to the big black gentleman who was standing perfectly still. “Come my loyal brother. We’ve so much to do.”

“Before you two go, I have one last present. It’s my prized possession. I do believe it will serve you well. Do try to take good care of it for me.”

“Very well,” said Torchlight looking it over. “A fine gift. Finally trying to show some respect?”

“I get the sense it would be endangered if I tried to make any use of it. You might as well have it.”

“Pity,” said the child engulfing the gift in flames for a moment and then smiling. “But a gift is a gift.”

And with that Torchlight took the gift over to his ‘Brother’ and in an instant it was just me in the room again. I do believe that is the all clear Whisper. Return to the compound.

Fracture out.