Quotes

“Quit memorizing everything I say you little shit.
Find your own voice.”
            -Sierra

So Trent’s post was a bust and Firecracker was nice enough to let loose that I’m not entirely on my ‘A’ game again. Last time I let either of those assholes post. I have been having trouble sleeping. Quite a lot of trouble sleeping actually. It seems like every other week I’m bitching about something new and painful or annoying. Patterns imply a human hand operating amongst the chaos.

Been having trouble thinking trying to sort this out. Then I realized the last few posts have had supposed quotes from a long dead runner, some stupid bitch who got taken out in the first month. I sat for a long time trying to figure out who the hell else would have known her. Staring at the quotes it occurred to me they were in italics. Only one bastard I know pretentious enough that he feels the need to type almost everything out in italics.

Fracture has tried to drug me in the past. He disappeared shortly before the trouble sleeping started. Worst yet italics. Also, there was that time he edited my posted while I was writing them. That I can’t take the quotes down means someone with his level of control over my blog probably did it.

Checked all over for a canister. Also checked for rashes or a needle scar. Then I realized my body won’t scar. I could have injections all over and possibly never know it!

Need someone to watch me sleep. Can’t trust Firecracker or Trent, Fracture brought them in. To many untrustables. Filthy runners. Murderous proxies. Going to start moving around to see if I can’t get away from him.

Left the list in my room. I expect Firecracker and Trent to keep hunting.
I’m off to find Salome. Peace. Just enough until it stops.

Later.
Swan.

“You are so mean! I’d tell you not to say anything at all if you can’t think of something nice to say,
but if I did I fear you would never be able to say anything again.”
            -Sierra

**















































Nothing to report.
-Trent

Blue Font

“Silly, you’ll find no rest while you’re at war with yourself.
Just make a decision and promise yourself you’ll stick with it in the morning.”
            -Sierra

Heeeeellllllllooooooo~

This is special designation ‘Firecracker’ reporting in on behalf of the lord of fire and feathers, Mr. Duck. I’ve also been known to respond to ‘Picasso’ and on the rare occasion ‘Fucking Maskless’.

Mr. Duck is apparently suffering from sleeping problems and can’t find time to post in between not sleeping and hunting and we are having a hard time finding Mr. Fracture so Mr. Duck said I get to file a report and so here I am. He gave me a few rules to follow. I’ll go ahead and lay those out to make this report seem longer than it actually is:

             1.      “Do not mention that we are looking for Fracture. I do not want him to be expecting the shovel

                     when he gets back.”

             2.     “Do not mention that I am having sleeping problems. Just tell them I am busy hunting.”

             3.      “Do not break rules 1 and 2.”

             4.      “Do not talk about yours or anyone else’s fighting style or abilities. Whenever you need to express

                     that you killed someone, just say you did. Fuck them if they want to know more, they can stalk me

                     in person for details.”

             5.      “Lie to them.”

             6.      “Make your own account. I don’t want you posting on mine.”

Hmm… looking back over those I already broke 4 out of 6 of his rules. Whoops. Oh well, it serves him right for throwing lit fucking firecrackers at me!

Pettiness aside, I think this is going really well. What else to talk about? Umm…

Oh! I killed a guy yesterday.
After we tracked down our list item, Trent scared him down an alleyway and I dove down on him from a fire escape. In hindsight, the joint trauma of falling on him and forcing a knife through the back of his ribs probably killed him on the spot. That didn’t stop me from screaming at and ripping into the corpse for ten minutes before I finally realized he was already dead.

After I got off of him I cut off his thumb and used it to draw operator symbols on the walls in his blood. My favorite symbol is the triangle with the uppercase ‘L’s attach to every edge. Once the body started to smell I figured I should probably get going so I called our cleaning guy, Trent, and told him to get to work. I could tell he was scowling at me from the other side of his mask. He hates it when I call him from five feet away to tell him to do things over the phone.

Then I helped Trent with his disposal duties and we headed back to New York to report to Mr. Duck and retire for the day.

On an exciting end note, I hear Mr. Duck is going to make Trent give the next report. I can’t wait to finally hear the mute’s opinions of us and his surroundings. Should be fascinating!

Laters!

Firecracker

Blackouts

“Exactly, we bleed when we’re hurt.
When you hurt your body, you bleed blood. When you hurt your soul, you bleed tears.”

-Sierra

My blackouts were called into question recently. I thought I would spend some time discussing them and pour in some lies with the truth while I was at it; see if I can bait more snakes to leap out of their pots.

I in fact… am still suffering from blackouts. They certainly aren’t as bad as they were before. When I first crawled out from the rubble and discovered I was still alive I couldn’t so much as draw my blade without putting out someone’s flame. About the time I figured out how to get back in touch the bureaucracy, I had figured out how to hold back well enough that I could stop the blackouts as long as I had not made the decision that the person I was dealing with overly deserved physical and permanent harm. Although at that point I often had to dig into my own flesh to bite back the fog.

And then along came Firecracker, a living embodiment of my failures, and the order to bring her in alive. She was, and quite frankly still is, a monster that deserved to get thrown out of the tallest building I could find. But I owed her more than that and I had my orders. Something changed after I took her down, which consequently took me cutting into nearly every square inch of my exposed skin in order to pull off. I swear I almost bled out that day and considering my condition that is quite a feat.

After that I found I had gained much greater control over myself. I no longer needed to dig into my own flesh to fight back the urges, although I will admit I still find it calming and it does still kind of help. Fracture seems to think that’s a matter of habit or a way of exerting control over my own life. I think that’s stupid personally, I’m already well in control of my own life and if I wanted to inflict violence to prove I had control I would just break Fracture’s legs again simple as that.

I think I started rambling somewhere in there.
Now I only blackout when I go to perform the actual kill and it doesn’t take as long as it did before for me to snap back to reality. Although I have found that I have a new side effect that I experience following every blackout now, the incessant Fucking crying. Every. Single. Time.

It pained me to cry for that weak fuck Nemesis. He deserved every second of his slow death and if I thought I could draw it out any longer without him dying on me I would have. I want to remember slitting his fucking throat but it hurts to try. All of them fucking hurt to try to look back on although the fucking black fucking blood thing is still by far the most painful of any blackout to try to remember anything about. I should probably mention that trying to think back on a blackout also induces fucking tears.

I swear to god I am the biggest cry baby I know.

I’m tired of talking about this shit.
Swan out.

There Ain’t No Hope for the Hapless

…Those fuckers die easily. I just slit their throats and split their ribs, then I feed them to the bleeding tree!

Did you know hapless means unfortunate or unlucky? Yeah, neither did I. I was pretty sure it meant unskilled or something down that line of thought. Although, they say you make your own luck. In that respect a hapless person is probably an unskilled.  I of course mean unskilled in the respect of someone being a weak piece of shit. Fuck semantics. Fucking words.

Enough rambling, who remembers Nemesis?
I’d be surprised if anyone does at this point. He was kind of a foot note I left hanging a few months back at the request of the assholes who give me my orders. I killed his pet runner or some such shit. I saw him the other day.

That went something like this:

I was walking down the hallway. We don’t get much traffic; it’s just the four of us here after all. I could hear footsteps behind me. They were too heavy to be Firecrackers or Fractures. (Fracture walks like a little girl.) At the same time, they were lighter than Trent’s footsteps. (Trent also likes to drag his knuckles against the nearest wall when he walks for some reason.) Whoever was behind me wasn’t supposed to be here, probably. I slowed down a bit and pretended something ahead on one of the walls had caught my attention.

After a brief moment of changing pace I heard the footsteps speed up to further gain on me. When they got really close an unfamiliar voice called out ‘Black Blood’. I was ready for him though. I side stepped a stab and then grabbed by attackers forearm and slammed it hard into the nearest wall forcing him to drop his knife. I then jerk my arm back hard elbowing the attacker in his fugly fucking face and finally turned my head just enough to see who the fuck it was. I recognized the piece of shit immediately. I never forget the ones I intentionally let live; those fuckers always seem to show back up one way or another.

Without letting so much as a moment pass as to not give up my own moment, I grabbed his forearm again and slammed it against the wall harder. I couldn’t help but grin as I heard something snap confirming that his primary hand had been ruined. Too dazed from the Elbowing and far too busy screaming like a girl to properly respond, I spun behind Nemesis and bashed him hard in the back of the head with the hilt of my now drawn knife as I pulled a leg out from under him with my own leg. Fuck face fell hard on his fucking face. It didn’t take Nemesis more than a few seconds to start crawling forward weakly. It seemed he didn’t have much left anymore. Pity, I was just getting started.

I looked forward curious as to what exactly that idiot was crawling toward. His knife had flown a little ways down the hall to the other side of a chair Trent likes to keep there by his door for some reason. Further down the hall I could see Fracture standing there and watching, most likely drawn out by all the screaming. I felt my grin grow a little wider. I don’t particularly care for an audience but I wanted him to see this.

“Still trying to get your little revenge?” I asked him as I started walking toward him.

“Y-YOU’LL FUCKING PAY FOR WHAT Y-YOU FUCKING DID TO JENNET!” he yelled and crawled more desperately slowly getting closer to that chair. I could see him swelling with hope. Maybe this wasn’t over yet. ‘Maybe he’ll be too cocky and I can turn this around on him,’ I could imagine him saying. ‘Just a little further yet.’

“Oh?” I asked as I leaned over and slit his back open up the length of the left side of his spinal column in one swift motion. The pain stopped him in his tracks and left him cringing. “Your pet’s name was Jennet? Adorable,” I said as I walked ahead of him and stopped in front of the chair turning to face him.

“BLACK BLOOD!” he yelled before he started crawling again, slower now. “Wh-Why i-isn’t that w-working?!” he whined pleadingly, the desperation finally starting to show in his voice.

“You must have been reading me all this time,” I said as I started walking toward him again. “Studying your pray. How Commendable. I guess you do actually know how to hunt,” I told him as I leaned over and slit his back open up the length of the right side of his spinal column, but much slower this time to drag out the pain and the screaming. “Pity you suck at your job.”

I looked up at Fracture to see how he was enjoying his show. So cold was his grimace as he stood there watching intently taking in every word and every action. I could see Firecracker running towards me from behind him. She looked quite focused like a hell bent bitch on a mission. I’m not sure if she was going to help me or put an end to my show. I never found out. Fracture close lined her when she tried to pass sending her hard on her ass. I took the opportunity to get back to work. Fuck face had started crawling again. I followed again, this time keeping pace to his side.

“You’re just going to bleed yourself out if you keep pushing yourself like that,” I teased him.

“NOT BEFORE I KILL YOU!” he yelled with renewed hope and vigor in a mildly impressive display. ‘Just maybe,’ he must of thought. ‘Just a little further.’

“Just a little further,” I whispered to him. “Almost. Come on. This is for her. Redemption is just ahead.”

Before too long he found himself just out of reach of the chair’s leg. Just a little further and maybe he could pull himself forward to his knife and just maybe there would be a chance of winning this fight yet.

“You know, I just might have let you live. But I’m afraid you broke rule 926.”

“Oh?” he asked with a weak and failed attempt to laugh. “Wh-What rule i-is th-that?”

“Don't ever piss me off,” I informed him as I pulled his head back by his hair and slit his throat and saw the last of his fire drain from his eyes, his wrath and his passion now my burden to carry.

“What a lame line.”

“Don’t fucking start with me. I’m not here to amuse you,” I growled and got to work cleaning and resharpening my blade as I headed for my room. “Clean up this fucking mess and double check your security measures. I don’t want anymore of this shit getting through. Trent, check on Firecracker. Oh, and give Fracture a good slug. He did that to her.”

And then I disappeared into my room.

Good bye Nemesis. I hope you rot in hell.
Oh, for the record, rule 926:
‘Keep no pets. They will die on you.’

It’s in the handbook.
Swan out.

Runner Bullshit

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

Edit:

The following was posted over the course of two fits, the time it took for me to salvage the hard drive after the laptop was smashed at the end of the last fit, the time it took to transfer that to a new hard drive, the time it took for subject 926 to finalize his draft after all that, and the time it took for me to edit this draft with a disclaiming edit thereafter.

-Fracture

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

Edit: Edit: (?)

FUCK YOU!!!

-Swan (ß An additional fuck you! My name is nicer!)

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

FUCK, it hurts. FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK

THISISRUNNERBULLSHIT! I’m a proxy damn it! FFFUUCCCKKK

la, la la.

Getting ahead of myself. Let me scale back for a second or something. If I’m going to do this… I really should do it right. I’m going to take a page out of Captain Flying Rock Monster’s book and see if this isn’t easier if I try to tell it from the beginning. Keep in mind this is NOTFORFUCKINGYOU. This is for me. I need to figure out exactly what happened. Since Fracture is being extra useless this is last fucking alternative.

Since the crying has finally stopped, let’s begin.
I seem to be suffering from migraine inducing memory loss. That is to say, whenever I try to remember what the fuck happened I break out in sweat, migraines, crying, itches, and the urge to bang my head against the fucking wall. The brain pain starts whenever I try to remember anything that happened within the last, what I am assuming, 8 days and feel insanely worse the later into that time period the thing I am trying to remember is.

Roughly two days after my first post, which is about two days before that fucking painful 8 day period, I finally managed to catch Fracture off guard at the hotel. I slugged him and when he turned to face me I slammed my shovel down on top of his skull. Then we stared each other down until I was sure he knew we were good and even and left after slugging him again. I think he went to deal with his bleeding scalp. On another happy note, I spent much of the next two days throwing lit firecrackers at Firecracker because it freaks her the fuck out. Ha ha. She gets so mad.

Two days later (Fuck, I can already feel the fucking migraine start to kick in.), Fracture had me call everyone together for some stupid fucking meeting in my room. Using the book I brought back, Fracture had managed to determine the location and goals of that stupid fuck Kreeger and his stupid fucking cronies. Apparently those sick fucks had been collecting children being watched by the master and were gathering them in some shack in the fucking woods of all places in an effort to force the master in a place of their fucking choosing for a fight. They corralled the little shits by way of tranquilizer or something. It hurts a little to draw on specifics... um... the stun stick. Fracture gave me a new toy.

“I’m hoping to brin(FUCK)g some of these bastards back alive. To help you with your little killing prob(FUCKFUCKFUCK)lem, I had this made.”itswas astupid fuckingstunstick shapedlikeaknife with ahiltand everythingthat goesoff whenever you presstheknife part to anything.

FUCK. Fuckfuckfuck! Why the fuck did I do that to myself. QUIT CRYING YOU FUCKING PUSSY!

… La, la la, la la, la…

And there went the TV out the window. Fortunately, the fire escape caught it.
I’m going to go ahead and move forward and we’ll see if I can’t finish this without throwing anything else out the window. Just in case though, I have Fracture with me this time so if I do snap I won’t break anything important in the room. I’ll just break him.

So we picked up and went to Kreeger’s group’s stupid fucking hideout. First by car, FUCK, and then walking, sneaking, elephant. Once fucking close Fracture did some recon. The children were… god damn it, in the fucking basing in a giant fucking cage of all motherfucking things. Seriously, what the fuck. Nine. 2 up, 5 mid, 2 down. Firec and Tren wnet top. Frac bot. I waited 5, charged mid.

IFYOULETTHEMHURTTHOSEFUCKINGKIDSI”LLENDYOU

whatever

Clear

Clear

Clear

... (That one was trent.)

They missed one. Down thestairs. Firecrackerlookout!

THISISNOTFUCKINGACCEPTABLE!whathappened,whathappened,whathapstopfuckingcryingandjustfuckingrememberalreadypagoha[hj]aeoargnargbuinbzfkj;agbjoleri[oaoBlackbloodaerop;aasgnoFUCK

…la, la la…

And after that I broke my laptop… on Fracture I think. I’m not sure. I think he might have moved. In which case I probably broke it on the desk. Fuck, I’m rambling.

I spent several hours looking over what I wrote to try to figure out what the fuck happened which also hurt but not nearly as much as remembering and writing it did. I… think I have a better understanding of what happened, except Firecracker isn’t dead or even hurt so, oww, sure something happened there. Fucking headache flares up at the simple fucking thought of that. ThefucKWHY...

Not even sure how we got back. Those fuckers much have fucking carried me back. And I noticed something on that end note. What in the fuck does FUCK. Ow. I’ll try to type this fast.

blackblodo

FUKFUCKFUCK.

…mmean. Why do those two words hurt so fucking much to think about…

…La, la la…

I should stop before I break something again.

On a closing note, according to Fracture, all of the kids made it out alive and have been returned to... umm... somewhere? I'm assuming their homes or wherever the master was storing them. We also didn't manage to bring any of Kreeger's gang back alive which suits me just fine. Fuck those assholes, seriously. They deserved it. Fracture says the book only had ten names in it so with any luck that is the end of them.

God damn it! Even this tertiary crap is hurting my head to think about.

I can’t take anymore fucking crying,
Ugly fucking Duck out.