Friday, September 28, 2012

When There’s Nothing But Pain, It All Feels The Same


I guess that’s going to require more elaboration. First off, the mission was an absolute success. The heart was reportedly destroyed by Fracture and I’m just going to assume that’s true because even if it isn’t, I’m sure it’s at least somewhere where my prey can’t get at it and I can always kill Fracture later to make sure nobody knows where it is. There were some complications. Most notably: some heavy blood loss, two bullet wounds that had to have the bullets dug out, and muscle tearing!

Feeling woozy again.

Okay, feeling a little better and the shock is starting to wear off. Now I’m just fucking angry again.

More complications,
Firecracker is dead, probably. She took a bullet to heart and fell out of a window but the last time I personally killed her I slit her ankles and throw her off of an even taller building than the one we were in so I have no fucking idea if she’s even dead. It was a little heart wrenching to watch all the same; mostly because it was Trent who shot her. And it was deliberate to spite me. Shoot her to spite me, fucking proxy logic. I don’t know where he is now. He made his escape into the path when he realized he wasn’t winning his fight with me. Fucking coward. I can only assume he hasn’t actually defected but I don’t actually fucking know.

I suppose I should actually explain things.

Everything was swell at first. Fracture and Firecracker snuck into the facility. I asked Fracture how later but his answer amounted to “Somehow.” Kind of get the feeling there is so much more to get but he’s being stubborn as fuck.

While they were doing that, Trent and I snuck around the outside part of the facility and silently slit some throats.  The funny thing about stealthy security details is they never seem to expect an ambush, they’re always far too busy planning ambushes against potential security risks. The twelve of them went down relatively easy. Trent got sloppy. He accidentally let one of the patrol teams get the jump on him instead. Cost me three of my bullets to fix the problem. He was lucky the rest of the patrolling squads had already been dealt with or we would have had a series situation on our hands.

(In hindsight, I shouldn’t have saved Trent because he’s a spiteful fucking traitor!)

After that we moved to the front door. A little while later Fracture threw the front door open for us. Firecracker was reportedly out and about blocking off exits for the killing spree we were about to bring in.

“Any sign of the target?”

“Not yet. I’m thinking it might have its own security detail a few floors below ground level.”

“Think you can clear that while we take care of everything up here?”

“Does the pope shit in the woods?”

“Not if the Master hasn’t gotten him yet but I’ll take that as a yes.”

Once Firecracker showed up we started taking sweeps of the floors. It was dark, Firecracker had apparently cut the primary power and what was running was functioning off of auxiliary power sources. Fracture revealed later that that was how he found the servers he was looking for, because four auxiliary generates turned on and only one of them was powering the top half of the building.

We were quiet as we made our sweeps across the building. There were only a few well trained fighters inside the actual building. The only people who put up any real fight were a few people on the top floor. The head of security and a makeshift fortification of people he railed around himself when he figured out what was going on. I took two bullets when we came upon them, I was lucky it wasn’t a lot worse than that. We ended up tear gassing that area. There wasn’t much fight left in them after that. Not my kind of tactic but I figured this wasn’t a simple assassination anymore; this was something closer to war.

I got a call from Fracture a little while later. He informed me he had found and destroyed the servers all the data was running through and had disabled the secondary servers. I probably would have questioned him more on that matter but I could hear someone begging that they finally be allowed to be put to death on the other side of the phone and figured he was busy.

I had just hung up the phone when everyone’s attention was called to an unfamiliar voice on the other side of them room. I drew my gun as I turned.

“You know, you sicken me,” said the voice. The words sounded funny, like the speaker was learning how to say them as he spoke them. Like talking didn’t come natural.

I turned to find it was Trent. He had a gun drawn in one hand and a knife in the other. I hurt myself shifting my weight onto my bullet wound to look.


“Stop calling me that! That’s not my fucking name,” he said pointing the gun. His aim was off. I didn’t flinch.

“What is your name them? I’d like to know who I’m about to kill.”

“Moth,” he said, “You named me Moth.” I froze as he pulled off his mask and lifted his hair to reveal his ear. It was still missing a piece from where I had cut out a wedge shaped chunk from it.

“Goodbye,” he said and then fired a shot. I heard a louder noise of the window behind me shattering than should have resulted from a single bullet and turned just in time to catch a glimpse of firecracker crashing through and falling out the window.

“What the fuck?!”

He just stared at me like he didn’t understand the question.

“Why her. Your beef is with me.”

“Because I know it wounds you. It hurts you so much more than you care to admit. Because you’re weak. Because you’re an overly sentimental fuck who screams about how me wants to kill everyone around him but would sooner see them alive and well. Who calls for the death of every living being but cries after every death. Who preaches freedom but acts like an obedient dog. Who takes in children after he’s done murdering their mothers right in fucking front of them and then passes them along to be executed as soon as it is requested of him without putting up so much as a fucking fight!”

I was crying. I don’t know what hit harder, that Firecracker died over this stupid shit or that he was right.  But I knew one thing, he needed to die and he needed to die right fucking now before he caused anymore problems to the mission.

My body practically started moving on its own. It knew what to do at this point even when I myself was reluctant to. He fired a few shots, he missed. I closed in for a killing blow. He blocked it with his mask. It cracked down the side. I saw fear in his eyes and he dove through a window. I looked over the ledge in time to see he had caught onto something and used the path to drop out of the situation. I fired a shot but I think I only grazed him as he disappeared.

That was when the pain kicked in. All that movement forced the wounds open. I had to sit down so they could close. Lost quite a bit of blood there. Not long after all that Fracture showed up.

“What the fuck happened to you? Where are the kids?”

“Firecracker went out that window and her killer, Trent, took that one as his getaway.”

He looked at both the windows and then offered a hand. “Do we proceed with the mission as planned?”

“Oh stop Fracture, your concern is fucking overwhelming. Let’s get to a safe place. Need to patch up.”

And then he drove me here, wherever here is.

We can’t stay here much longer though. Our window of opportunity on that highest is closing fast. Hell, it might already be closed.

Need to keep moving, injuries or not.

Fracture here.

The above was written by Duckie over the last few days as he slowly recovered from the incident with Moth. I would like to point out that the above was not incredibly sensible before I got my hands on it. It is a product of my editing.

I should explain who Moth is I guess?

Moth was a brat Duckie took in early on in his career as a collector. At the time Duckie had a rule against killing children under the age of 12 and after killing poor Moth’s mommy Duckie decided to take Moth with him until he turned 12 so he could kill him.

I can’t say if Duckie would have gone through with it. Reports on Duckie from that time frame serve to imply that Duckie actually found himself rather attached to the child after a month of traveling with him and teaching him how to hunt and kill.

What happened serves to imply that Duckie very well may have killed the kid when the time came. Believing the kid to be a detriment to Duckie’s activities as a collector, Duckie received an order demanding he immediately had over the child to the nearest cult down so he may be used as a sacrifice fitting for Father. As the report states, ‘Duckie handed the child over without a word.’ That may sound harsh but Duckie didn’t do much talking in those days.

Off of the official records though, Duckie did spend the next therapy session crying but refused to state why. I assumed it was some kind of PTSD at the time, but greater perspective from the official records would serve to imply that this was due to the loss of Moth but that is, and likely will always be, pure speculation.

On a more current note,
Duckie is still in shit condition both physically and, as I am beginning to find out, mentally.  He’s not in fighting shape. Surgery was required to remove those bullets and he is still very much recovering from it. He however insists that we proceed with the operation anyways claiming,
“We have to act now!”

If that wasn’t bad enough, I’ve heard him talking to himself. And I looked into it, there was no one else in his room living, Slender, or otherwise. Just him. I can hear him doing it again now.

“I remembered my song. Shall I sing it for you? It starts ‘La, la la,’ remember? I miss you.”

Its really fucking disturbing.

I’m worried he won’t survive this. I’m even more worried of what the fuck he’s going to become if he does.

By the time this posts, we’ll have already set out to slay the highest.
Cross your fingers, ankles, knees, elbows, ears, eyes, and toes for us. We’re apparently going to need it.

Fracture out and Ugly Duck out of his fucking mind, apparently.

Sunday, September 23, 2012

I Press on and Fight With All of My Might

Upon reflection, I think it might have been a good thing that Fracture never told me who I was actually fighting. I am, after all, the blogger in this set and what the organization knows of us, that isn’t covered in standardized forms and papers, comes from this blog. I think he wanted it to earnestly read in my writings that I thought I was just pursing business as usual but now that I know what we’re actually doing I know it doesn’t matter what mind games we try to play. We tried that kind of shit a half decade back with the Bureau wanna-bes and it didn’t fucking work, nearly all of us died taking them down.

Fracture had a whole campaign planned to peel at a division of the Bureaucracy from its roots up slowly. I know better than anyone that if you’re going to fight an opponent more powerful than yourself you can’t pussy foot around. You have to strike first and fast and you have to make sure that what you struck is vital and crippling, so much so that there is no doubt that if you were to walk away after that the entity you were fighting would fall apart and die on its own.

Not possible in this case. It’s going to take two strikes to bring just this division to its knees and, while I hate to admit it, that effective a strike is only possible because of Fracture. The information we’ve been collecting from our marks combined with what I can only get Fracture to refer to as ‘other sources’ has revealed what I was able to identify as a serious flaw in this division's chain of command. It is very much like a heart. Literally everything gets filtered through it and if you destroy it, this division will be no more. With the information we pull from it I bet we can even find other vulnerable spots across the rest of the Bureaucracy to bleed them dry from.

Once we rip into the heart all that will be left is to strike at the head and take out their highest. With the source of their orders taken out the division should crumble and with no database to draw from it would take literally years for the other divisions to recount and collect the assets this will put them out of contact with.

This very well may only work once and they’ll probably only give us one chance at this but god damn it are they going to feel this!

I’m not even going to be sorry if I die from this. This is a real fight, a worthy fight!

By the time this posts, we’ll have already set out for the mission. We might even be done already. We will either be dead or an entire division of the proxy hierarchy will be thrown into disarray.

Ember, I love you.

Ugly Duck out!

Thursday, September 20, 2012

Fire is Light…

… from which the truth must ignite.

So apparently Picasso made her own account. As far as I can tell she doesn’t have a blog and she doesn’t have any followers but she has an account. All the better to rant with, I suppose. To those who are curious as to why she keeps calling West a bear, it’s because he looks like one.  That asshole is a big burly, nightmarish beast in both stature and muscle mass. I’d dare say he is far more muscle than man if I thought that sentence would make any sense.

Limb snapping Maniac.

Speaking of betrayers,
I keep breaking my oath of silence. I don’t remember not talking being so difficult. I remember when I didn’t need words for anything and there wasn’t a situation I couldn’t wear a mask for. I remember when writing felt like a moral sin to my oath that I only practiced in an effort to finish the stories of the slain. Now it’s a mandatory fucking order that I stick on an imaginary wall for all of the world to see. When did I become so weak and co-dependent?

I bet getting me to break my oath was Fracture’s plan. He just kept calling me a dog until I snapped.
That fucker showed up to help with clearing the list. He didn’t actually get to help us though. I beat the shit out of him while yelling something to the effect of, “CALL ME A DOG ONE MORE TIME AND I WILL FUCKING END YOU.”

When I was done he disappeared. He popped out like he likes to do. Such a cowardly fucking ability. I use to hate that I wasn’t allow to path around like I see so many other proxies do, Firecracker and Trent included, but this talking thing has shown me that it would only be another crutch. At the end of the day I’m better off without it.

I suppose I’m burying the lead here though.
My list has once again been cleared and all six marks are once again dealt with. We used actual planning this time around. We scouted out each mark and figured out where each one slept and took out every single one of them within the same hour once we had their patterns down well enough. We left them no time to find out something was wrong and regroup. There was just swift silent death. Not the kind of death I prefer to give but at the end of the day it’s about results. Besides, I have weak ass squad mates to keep alive. Trent and Firecracker almost didn’t survive our last head on fight with a group so it’s best we play it safe… for now.

That’s not to say none of them put up a fight.
That first guy woke up as Trent and I were sneaking up. He grabbed a knife from under his pillow and rushed into the doorway to use as a choking point to fight us from, which wasn’t a bad strategy and he was a rather competent at defending himself with a knife.

The greatest problem with that strategy is you root yourself to the ground and make yourself inflexible. I may not have been able to penetrate his pillar of defense but by god I could knock it over, and so I did. I plowed into him and ripped his knife away from him once I had him pinned to the ground. And that was when the little girl came out.

“Sally dear, run!”

Little Sally Newbery, the whole reason we hit this house first and I came to handle it personally.

I pointed at her and tapped the crack in my mask to indicate she was to be taken to Fracture rather than harmed. I turned to finish her dad when I heard a stomping noise behind me. I turned to find Trent madder than I had ever seen him before. No longer did his eyes appear cold and soulless. I saw rage, pure fiery rage.

He dove onto the little girl and forced his knife into her and then let her drop as he pulled her dad over to him and disappeared with him into the path.

I went over to her. She was dying.

“Where is father…?” she forced out coughing, clinging onto me.

I figured I had already broken my oath once today, no harm in doing it again. So I started to answer, “He-”
But I was interrupted.

“Daddy said Father would keep us safe… h-help me, f-father…”

And then she went still. I let her drop again. I didn’t have time to process that information. Assuming Firecracker had taken out her first mark, there were still three more marks left and with Trent gone in such a huff I had to make sure they all went down before too much time had passed.

Fortunately Trent showed back up as his soulless empty self again and everyone signaled in their success. Besides that first encounter with Sally and her dad, there were no notable incidents to report.

I was curious why this group didn’t seem to have a base of some sort like the last one until I went back to investigate Sally’s house. I found their basement had been turned into a bunker complete with another small armory, an array of computers, and a table with a dissected body laying across it.

Further inspection confirmed my fears. Trent tried to hide it but I found a little mask in Sally’s room and another mask in her fathers. And then I barged in on Firecracker trying to hide away the other 4 masks form the other four marks. These people were proxies and apparently I was the only one who wasn’t aware of it.

Trent and Firecracker both drew their weapons.
I hadn't actually been planning to fight them but if they were so eager I was happy to oblige. I won’t get deep into the details of that one. The cliff notes are I tazed the shit out of Trent and planted my fist into Firecrackers gut and left her winded. With the stooges taken care of it was time to pay Fracture a visit.

I found him at our agreed rendezvous point interrogating Sally’s dad. He was quick to put a gag in his mouth when I came in.

“Shouldn’t you be out collecting information for me?”

I threw out Sally’s mask for him to see.

“I knew she was going to ruin this for me. It’s always the children with you Duckie, ever since Moth.”

I punched the wall hard at the mention of that name. He recoiled back, the memory of his beating fresh in his head.

“Settle down boy… that wasn’t intentional! Don’t hit me!”  he yelled as I cracked my knuckles.

“So you found out. So what? Does this change anything? I’m still the one who gives you your orders. Are you going to start questioning them again?”

I stopped.

“And it’s not as though we don’t have the Master’s blessing. I mean just look back at today. You saw me pop away. I couldn’t do that if I had fallen out of grace.”

I tilted my head.

“Confused? It’s because you’re still questioning and fighting things, still holding back which is so ironic coming from captain let lose! Just let go and be happy. I know your feelings on the Bureaucracy. I think it’s time you made good on expressing them without words like I know you like to.”


“Why what?”

“Why was this kept from me if you knew I would be on board?”

“For fun. I wanted to test all that conviction you like to claim you have. You’ve already started on this with me. Got to finish it now, isn’t that right?”

I punched the wall again. “…Yes.” And then left.

It’s bothersome how incredibly in my head he seems to be which wouldn't be half as bad if it wasn't for that insufferable fucking grin of his.

Back to work I suppose, I have an accidental rebellion to fight.
Ugly Duck out.

Friday, September 14, 2012

An Unknown

Well it seems I was wrong. I made a comment on Ember’s blog the other day stating my distain for chess metaphors because they don’t really apply in the whole mask/jogger dynamic, in my opinion at least. About an hour later Trent showed up and handed me an open laptop with a game preloaded and set up.

I’m not really much for games but the title on the top little bar for the game read ‘Slender Chess’ and the opposing player’s name thing read ‘frac.4.ture’.  Figured I might was well try, if for no other reason to see if I couldn’t get something to rub in Fracture’s stupid grinning face the next time I see him.

The game was about what you would expect. It was chess with the Master sitting in the middle of the board as a small figurine with many tendrils coming off of his back. For some reason we weren’t white and black, our pieces were orange and blue. The only white and black piece was the Master and he was both. I also noticed that I had an extra Pawn and an extra Queen piece. My guess was that was necessary to spread the board out wider so there was a middle place for the Master, although Fracture explained it as never being able to have enough Queens. Makes sense I guess; those are powerful pieces.

Every round I would get a turn, Fracture would get a turn, and then the Master would get a turn. The Master piece was weird. I would move next to another piece each turn. It didn’t seem to have any movement restrictions. It went where it wanted to.  After a few rounds it started killing pieces. After it moved next to them it would step into their square and then rip them apart in a slow and rather gruesome animation. It didn’t do that often though, just occasionally.

Then occasionally a piece it moved next to would turn black and start attacking the other pieces. I tried attacking the Master with a pawn at one point. The pawn died. It entered the Masters square and was ripped to shreds. I tried it with a queen too.  It was a bit gorier the second time. I did note I could kill the black pieces though, although if they were closer to Fractures side I tried to leave them be in hopes they would pick on him instead. I had some mixed results there.

At one point I moved a Knight next to the Master and watched as my piece killed over for what seemed to be no apparent reason. I accused Fracture of cheating. He explained that some people simply can’t stand in the presence of the Master because it would kill them and apparently that Knight was one of those pieces. I’m pretty sure Fracture was covering his ass because he’s a dirty fucking cheater.

Also, the king became a lot less useless in this version. If you could move your king next to a blackened piece, it would turn to that king’s color. Fracture ended up with 3 Rooks at one point using that rule that he couldn’t be bothered to explain to me before he did it.

The game kind of felt like a big waste of time at the end. Neither Fracture nor I won. We had lost too many pieces and it turned into a Stalemate. Honestly, if the game had gone on any longer I think the black pieces would have checkmated us, you know if that was possible. Can’t be sure, it didn’t happen. Although the game did have some sort of point system because the numbers next to my name were bigger than Fracture’s at the end, so I guess I’ll take that as a victory.

That little game was so interesting I almost forgot just how mad at Fracture I was. I was reminded when he congratulated me on my victory.

'Good job mutt.' the message read.
That fucker keeps treating me like a dog and I don’t know where the fuck he’s getting it from. He just started doing it right out of the fucking blue. I’m kind of glad he isn’t here; I think I’d snap his neck… a couple of times.

“Be sure you stay out of those files pup, I can’t have you pawing your wet little nose into them and making a mess.”
Quite frankly, he’s lucky I didn’t send him a broken computer coated in Trent’s blood.

A part of me really wants to know what it is he thinks he can hide from me but at the end of the day it really doesn’t matter. I’ll not have myself fall back into petty little paranoid distractions.

I just need to focus on my actual mission.

Huh. New message from Fracture.

'Why are you still at the school mutt? Shouldn’t you be out hunting?'

And look at that, five new marks on the list… apparently they’ve been there since Wednesday.

...I really need to work on this focus thing. I blame Fracture.

Ugly D[og]k out! [Bark, Bark!]

Sunday, September 9, 2012

Feed Them to the Flame…

It’ll take away their pain.

This is operative Ugly Duck reporting in my progress in regards to what I have affectionately entitled, ‘Operation: Kreeger Fuckery’.

As of about twenty minutes ago Trent, Firecracker, and I have successfully cleared all six marks from my list which was a bit more of a hassle then I had originally thought it would be. First off, I had to do some driving to even get to these fuckers. For a second thing, these guys had way better security than what I’m use to seeing in my marks.

Most of the trash I’m sent after are living on roof tops or in alleys or the fucking bus. Most of them have a very limited arsenal of improvised weapons: Pipes, bats, canes, crowbars, ice picks, hammers, shovel, ect. I once had a guy try to fight me with a hose for some reason. Once I had effectively disabled him I went ahead and asked him, “what the fuck were you thinking trying to fight with a hose?” He just wheezed for air, desperately trying to grab at something to pull himself free. At the time I didn’t care enough to actually get a response but the question haunts me sometimes.

Fuck, rambling.
Right so most are restricted to improved and less than ideal implements for fighting back. Then you have those cocky fuckers who managed to get their hands on an actual weapon: Knife, gun, spear, sword, and the sort. Regardless of whether or not they can actually use what they got their hands on, having the item shows a certain level of resourcefulness and ingenuity and certainly seems to draw other to them and why not? They have weapon after all.

About 90% of the people I hunt fall in these two categories.

In my last category you have the actually dangerous people. Ex-proxies, rival cult members (Both in and out of service), ex-cops/military, hardcore LARP geeks, runners who have been left alive way to fucking long, and Konaa with whatever the fuck category he is supposed to be in because I don’t even know or care at this point.

People like this cover about 10% of my list at best.

… fuck. That whole thing was a tangent.
Point is, most of the people I deal with are pitiful with the occasional diamond in the rough thrown in. All six of these fuckers were well armed and perhaps more concerning, were waiting for me.

It took me about an hour to slip into what I can only describe to be an abandoned school turned into a fortress just to get to my first mark. There were security cameras everywhere. I wasn’t sure they were working camera until I was greeted with a knife as soon as I opened the door to the Principal’s office. Sloppy knife work. I used his own weight and momentum to twist his swing back into him. Used my own knife to gut him.  Hard to feel sorry for the guy, the room he came out of had guns in it.  With the advanced warning he received with cameras he should have tried to shoot me through the door or something. Shoulda, coulda, woulda.

I let Trent and Firecracker hunt down the next two marks on the list while I collected things from the fortress. Apparently they caught the first one prowling through an alley and ambushed her. They slit the second guy’s throat while he was sleeping.

Collections of items from the homes and possessions of these other two marks combined with what I had already figured out about the fortress revealed what I was afraid of. These targets were very closely related to each other. Numerous missed calls from the same numbers on the phones of all three burned marks meant they the other three marks not only knew something was wrong but were likely preparing for us. We had to strike now and fast before they could properly regroup.

And we did, or tried to.  They had an ambush prepared. We took out the blond and the guy with an eye patch with realative ease. I stabbed eye patch guy through his good eye and struck deep into his brain. We found out later his eye patch was actually covering a fully functioning eye and that he could see through the patch. Poor attempt at a psych-out I guess? Trent and Firecracker cornered and tazed the shit out of the blond.

The fight fell apart from there. After a bit of a back and forth with Firecracker and Trent, the last chick took out Firecracker with a roundhouse kick and then pinned Trent to the wall and was in the process of collapsing his throat when I finally finished with captain eye patch. Too much distance to cover to close in time, I fired a shot in the air to force her attention away from her prey which Trent used to kick himself free. I then fought the bitch on my own while Trent checked on Firecracker.

She was something fierce. Unfortunately for her, she was also incredibly fucking stupid.
To many openings in her technique, far to predicable movement patterns, and a tell I could probably spot from the other side of the room. Funny thing about adrenaline is you can’t seem to grasp just how much pain you should be in and just how much blood you’ve lost.

He wound up for a strike and in what I’m pretty sure she didn’t realize was going to be the last thing she ever did, she charged at me screaming, “Prepare to meet your maker!”

I tripped her. “Prepare to finish bleeding out.”

She struggled to stand up but she didn’t have it in her. “Wh-why….?”

I wanted to ask her why ask why but she was already gone. I'm sure that’s going to haunt me too.

Time to finish collecting information to send to Fracture I guess.

Trent and Firecracker should be on their way to him now with the blond for interrogations.

Ugly Duck out.

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

“I Just Want To Set The World On Fire...

…But first, I’m going to rip out your heart.”

Fracture should be shitting himself right about now.

Arbitrary news flash, Firecracker is back and bitchier than ever. It just wasn’t quite the same around here without a third untrustable subordinate to have to worry about. I say third because it occurs to me that I shouldn’t be trusting Trent.

I’m not sure how I overlooked that particular detail but it occurred to me recently that while Trent comes off as hollowed and harmless, there is still supposedly an actual person in there and not just any person. There’s supposedly a person whose life I changed in some way. So odds are about 99:1 that he secretly and ever silently wishes to gut me, which is about a point worse than the 98:2 odds of this in proxies I haven’t wronged in some way.

And you see, the more I think about it the more Trent reminds me of a proper mask. He doesn’t ever talk, he doesn’t make noise when he walks, he never fucking takes his mask off, and in hindsight I think he’s been scarring himself to teach himself lessons. I’m not sure why I thought he was doing that because he hated himself for being a hollow. Hollows can’t hate, they aren’t people after all. If he really is a Mask, that leaves some very interesting possibilities on who it could be if he's someone from my past.

I’m half tempted to sit down with Trent and skin him slowly for answers on who he is exactly but I recently gave up talking again. I would hate to fall back into the habit after I just gave it up.

On a far less trivial note, something seems to be up with my list again.
It’s not quite as bad as the never ending onslaught of red marks I had to deal with over a short period during the summer but it is just as alarming. My list has gone almost entirely empty. There are six people on it. Short of where to find them it has little to no information about them and each mark has a little post note informing me to collect and bring back as much information from the targets as physically possible following their termination, and if at all possible to have Trent and Firecracker bring one in alive for questioning.

This is starting to feel very Kreegery. I swear to god if I lose another entire week of my life, Trent dies.

Ugly Duck Out.