This is What Happens When You Put Something Off Too Long.

So in an interesting turn of events, early yesterday morning while I was reporting in after a fun little round of commenting a car came crashing through the front door of our second floor motel room door. I had to double check to make sure subject 926 was still in the room with me and wasn’t on the drivers end of this little stunt as he has been known to pull this antic when he is particularly piss off at his mark and I thought he might be trying to blow off steam of something. You can never quite tell what a lunatic is going to do when troubled.

Out of the car emerged Picasso. By that point Duckie had already sprung to his feet on the bed and was in his ready stance. I started to give him shit about wearing shoes to bed earlier this week but apparently he does it in preparation for shit like this. Picasso started flinging throwing knives at Duckie. He dodged most of them and even caught one of them. She was going for a gun when I pulled one of my own and opened fire. I grazed her arm.

She growled and took off firing a few blind shots in what I assume was an effort to deter following. I turned to say something witty to Duckie about how his girlfriend seems to want his attention or something. I can’t remember, the moments passed. It passed because he was already gone. I didn’t see much more than a moment of him disappearing out the window in what I assume was him leaving to chase after her. He took his knife, his coat, his gun, and if I’m not mistaken a few of the throwing knives too because I found more holes in the wall than I did knives.

I gathered the rest of our shit and left. I am so not paying for property damage.

Before I forget I should probably take a moment to tell Duckie where he can find me. I’m at a hotel, in a bed once full of ember, and watching the movie Next. He should get it. He’ll probably be really pissed off after he does, but at least he’ll find me. Not to say I couldn’t just call or something.

I fear this may be the last we ever hear of Picasso. I don’t think he’s figured out this non-lethal thing yet but I don’t know that he’ll delay the issue any further after what she did. It’s a pity really.

She was looking rather terrible though.
 I thought Duckie looked like a rabid dog but she’s absolutely lost it. He apparently broke her mask the last time they fought right? It looked like she super glued it back together on her fucking face. She had a piece (And I’m just assuming glued right now.) glued to her forehead, each cheek, her chin, and her nose. When we brought her in for this she wasn’t anywhere near this fucked up.

To be completely honest though? I consider it a personal victory that I was able to help push her this far over the edge, even if it is counter intuitive to even my own wishes and wants.

On a side note, something seems to be missing from our collection of stuff and I can’t quite put my finger on what. I don’t think I left anything behind though. How curious.

Whatever,
Fracture Out.