Friday, December 13, 2013

Ji-Ja-Je-! Jack Attack. But not that Jack.

My Jack. The one I picked up recently. The little kid that's been living in my loop and following Duckie around like a lost Duckling. 

And yes, that's right. This is another fluff piece. I still have nothing from the Black Lake incident that would be safe to declassify and divulge...  yet at least. 

I've also no news on how the hunt for Picasso and Moth is going. I made a few calls to check in on my 'Finest', my personal kill squad of fire cultists, but their response boils down to "We're working on it.".

Unboiled, their exact words were, "God fucking damn it Fracture, for the 5th fucking time, we're looking. If we encounter anything interesting, you'll be the first to fucking know it. Fuck off."

The new Firecracker is such a peach isn't she? There's certainly something black, hard, and disgusting at the core of that one.

So yeah. This is a fluffy piece, on Ji-Je-'Jack'.

I'm certainly now that Jack was a hollow before Hollow's Eve. We have his face on file as such. I can not say, however, that Hollow's Eve had anything to do with him waking up. Jack is, after all, a child. Children, with their young minds, may very well be more capable of coming out of a hollowing on their own if given the right, or a strong enough, stimuli. Although killing several people in-front of a young hollow and then running at that hollow with a knife is hardly something I can retest. That circumstance is rather extreme.

Its also evident that Father adores children. The realization that he was about to lose a child may have caused him to unhollow Jack in hopes that Jack would be better able to defend himself in his awakened state. To those questioning why he wouldn't just show up and defend Jack himself if children are so precious to him, the answer is simple. Duckie was in the room. Father still very much hates Duckie and still refuses to appear anywhere near Duckie. So given the unique circumstances, its not unreasonable to think he would have just let his hold on Jack go in an effort to save Jack.

Furthermore, as Duckie was in the room, its not unreasonable to think that somehow Duckie did this. Especially if Picasso's theory that Duckie destabilized the loop and caused the Hollow's Eve incident is true. Duckie's own soft spot for children, combined with the violent backlash he seems to induce in slender related things, and the sight of a child about to be cut open may very well have resulted in him lashing out in more than just a physical way... this theory, if true, could be cause for great concern. If true... it would certainly explain why Father still hates Duckie so much...

I personally, remain convinced that the magic of Hollow's Eve did this but as a scientist I will continue to explore all explanations until all possibilities are thoroughly exhausted. Hopefully by that point, a true answer will be found.

Here is what we do know about Jack. He was labeled under our 'special finds' classification of hollow. We actually have quite a few of those.

See, we collect a lot of hollow's off the streets. We can't have homeless vagrants wandering around and drawing operator signs on everything, it draws a lot of attention after a while. So once informed of such an individual, we steal them and keep them in a loop. Its much either to look after, sort, and maintain them that way. It also gives us a sizable ever present force that we can call upon in extreme situations. But that's neither here nor there.

We found Jack in an abandoned loop. Which is not extremely uncommon. Every now an then I find an abandoned treasure trove left behind by some poor proxy, or on occasion runner, that was storing all his goodies in a personal loop and didn't have the foresight to pass on the knowledge of the loop before they bit the bullet. Or worse, somehow got stuck in that loop.

Now if you have a loop, its a great place to keep your hollows. You never have to feed them and they'll always have fresh wall to draw on. Similarly, someone left abandoned in a loop or who accidentally trapped themselves in their own loop, tends to eventually hollow. Constant exposure to Father from the loop, combined with an eternity of potentially dilated time, usually sees to that. So its rather common to find, if nothing else, a hollow in an abandoned loop.

Looking back over the file explaining where we found Jack, formerly H-88/Inmate 132, he was locked in cell in a loop made to resemble an asylum. Specifically cell 132. He was recovered with several other hollows, a collection of medical supplies, and selection of well maintained knives.

Now, an asylum has it's own implications. For a proxy, its synonymous with the word 'prison'. Proxies like to keep runners they aren't done with in asylums. When the Bureaucracy stood, they would lock proxies they couldn't control in asylums. And if a runner is merciful and bested a proxy, there's at least a 1 in 5 chance that that proxy is gonna wake up in an asylum in the the middle of nowhere. There's also some hear say that proxies that get taken in by the government can expect one of three things. Slow death on a dissection table, a life time of being studied in a clear plastic box, or an asylum. That's just a rumor of course. And wishful thinking. If an aware government agency gets you, its almost certain we won't ever be seeing you again. They aren't about to put you in an asylum where we can potentially find you... I wouldn't think.

Now, its hard to say who owned Jack's loop before it became abandoned or what its exact purpose was. Some of what we found inside would imply it was a personal store house. If it was a proxy, the asylum setting could indicate that they thought of the hollow's we found inside as captive. I'm curious of they were hollows before they were abandoned. Makes me wonder if its possible that they were left there with the express purpose of eventually hollowing. One of those hollow's weren't in a cell. Maybe someone over took and locked up their captor only to find they had no way of escaping the loop themselves?

Hmm... now I'm just inventing stories. We can never be sure. We found no written logs inside, not a single little black book. So whoever's loop it was, whatever the loop was intended for, that story is lost to time.

The only hint to the nature of the loop was the clothing of the hollows inside. They were all dressed in clothing reminiscent of the 70s. But that only really serves to time stamp what ultimately amounts to a time capsule of lost souls.

Sadly, that's all we know of poor Jack before he woke up.

There is one new thing we've discovered since he woke up that has proven itself true time and time again. Hes a sassy little shit.

The Lord Guardian Fracture out.

Sunday, December 1, 2013

Hollow's Giving

Howdy pilgrims. Fracture here, of course. Note the Italic text. Italics everywhere! Its a must.

So, I know I'm a little late with this post. Its already two days after Thanks Giving. But I've been busy. Thanks Giving, like most shallow heavily marketed events, is about putting up a superficial front and pretending to genuinely care about your fellow man/woman for a day out of the year. So I spent all week doing that.

A very special dedicated effort was made to ensure all operating proxies, that I know of at least, did not go without a meal for Thanks Giving. Which is a sizable task because most of us live like homeless drifting murderous vagrants. You know, because most of us are.

Beyond that, we're also paranoid and prideful. So many meals got sent right back to us. Some of them thrown right back in our faces. Was it all worth it? Probably not. Would I do it again? Why the hell not, right? That meal might have made all the difference... might have even saved some lives. And no one died for once. As long as we're not losing anything valuable, no harm in trying.

So, I suppose I should address Hollow's Giving right? That's right. Its time for another proxy holiday lesson. This ones special.

Every Thanks Giving, Hollow go out and bring home turkeys as an apology for freaking out on Hollow's Eve. Its said no runner ever dies on Hollow's Giving because proxies don't hunt on that day. And perhaps most amazingly, if you give Father a cooked turkey stuffed with twenty dollar bills on Hollow's Giving he'll let you free and you can go home and try to sort your life back together. And if you can't rebuild your life, we're always happy to have you. Oh, and one lucky proxy gets to hop on Father's back and receive a piggyback to the moon. It's said that once on the moon, the tentacle rape never ends. I haven't figured out what about that is lucky yet... but hey, I bet the moon is real beautiful.

If you haven't figured it out by now, I'm lying and full of shit.

Hollow's Giving isn't a thing. Hollows are hollows. I try to feed them turkey legs but they just use them to draw operator symbols on the walls... which is awkward and disgusting.

Many proxies are actually extra violent and aggressive on Thanks Giving. Most of them has lost everything and have received nothing to be thankful for. The whole holiday tends to remind them how far they've fallen.

Do not give Father a cooked turkey full of twenty dollar bills. It won't do anything... or he'll kill you. You're the one at risk at the end of the day. And no one goes to the moon. I can't comment on the tendril rape. I'd sooner not know actually. There is one true fact in that story though.

The moon is beautiful.


Honestly, Thanks Giving is just a horrible time to be a apart of this great game. This whole season is.

Its cold and everyone's hungry but the hunting and running never ends. But apart of us remembers that this season is supposed to be one of good will. 

'Maybe, just maybe, the other side of the game remembers that too. Maybe they'll be merciful and take it easy on us,' desperately wishes runners to their hunters. Desperately wishes those hunters to their handlers.

But the answer is always 'No'. These thoughts that it could ever be otherwise just make you vulnerable. Just leave you weak and hesitant at a time when you are probably already weak and tired. So don't question it, eh? Just keep pushing forward. Live.

Its funny to think, that my old handler use to make up stories about good will between runners and proxies during the holidays. Loveless would tells us about meetings between proxies and runners not too unlike a t.v. special where runners where the pilgrims and proxies where the natives. Or more realistic stories where a group of hunting proxies actually invited their prey in for the night to eat and sleep. Or one where a homeless proxy and the homeless runner he was chasing stopped fighting for the night and pooled their cash together to buy a meal and ate as friends... if only for that day.

Fanciful beautiful stories. All of them bullshit.

Do not do that. If a proxy invites you in for a meal, run. Its a trap. If you feel bad for a runner and want to invite them in, don't. They'll stab you in the back.

I'm not saying this is all universal. If you're already friends with someone across the fence, I'm not telling you to stop. But don't go trusting strangers over the holidays with a heart heavy with goodwill. Because that heart will get stabbed.

At the end of the day, we're all a bunch of paranoid violent sociopaths or outcasts and Thanks Giving is just a Thursday. 

The Lord Guardian Fracture, out.

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

New York Round Up

Howdy there. Fracture here. So I have marvelous news. I look like a cowboy. Isn't that awesome? Like, I hadn't even noticed it before but after I donned a black cowboy hat for what I was pretending was a hollow round up rodeo, I realized I look like a spiffy fucking black and white cowboy. My lab coat plays well as a white duster, I wear all black under that with black books and a black belt when I working, and my hair (while white as fuck) has the lengthy untamed look thing going for it.

So when I put on that hat, blam! I look like a fucking cowboy.

Its awesome. I may never switch back to my black baker cap again. Although I will miss looking like a Nazi. Why don't I own any less conspicuous clothes? Then again, anything but blacks and whites makes my extremely pale complexion stand out like a sore thumb.

Fun fact, lions probably can't see me. I'm like a zebra to them.

Going back to my outfits, why the fuck does my choice in hats seem to mean all the world of difference in what I appear to be? I'm trying on a proper chief hat right now and I look like a chief. 

Hmmm... I look like a detective or a mobster in a black fedora. I can just be whatever the fuck I want in the most conspicuous fucking ways possible. This is amazing. I might have to get a smoking pipe and play albino Sherlock.... zebra Sherlock. Zerlock.

I have never been sadder to have been too busy with this whole hollow breakout thing to enjoy Halloween. It would have been the perfect time to play with this.

And that, is a great transition to jump back to the serious topic of the Hollow round up.

Its done, for New York at least. Many 'thank you's to local volunteering proxies and the handful that drove or Pathed in from out of town. You were invaluable. I was surprised to see the high response I got from people who don't even have an account with the Free Market, although I can't be to flattered. It only serves to better keep them hidden if hollows aren't out going wild in public in mass numbers creating a scene.

None the less, all volunteers will be receiving a proxy point boost assuming I got a name or identity to assign the reward to. Enjoy.

We also enjoyed some aid from the government. Yay men in black and their party vans. While I don't suspect we'll ever see those hollows again, I have to know they're being studied and dissected in a better place.

I must assume so because they have cooler toys than me. Or rather, had cooler toys than me. We actually managed to recover one of those vans. And I do mean recover, it crashed. Based on the butchered bodies we found in the van, they were doing the dissecting on the spot while driving. I recognize some of the quality professional grade incisions we found on them as being similar to some of the cuts we found on hollow corpses out in the woods. I do believe they were placing the bodies out there to obscure their involvement. Cleaver.

I wonder if the party vans really are government though. The men in black look screams government agency but its also a bureaucratic proxy favorite and I haven't heard from the New York Division in a while. Truce or not, they don't trust me. It wouldn't surprise me if they tried to swoop in to figure out if I was doing something unique to my hollows. I wonder, I wonder...

Either of their involvements would certainly stand to explain why I'm not seeing any hollows locked up in cells. Both of them have the kind of clout you'd need to see hollows being pulled out of cells and into their hands before the arrested hollows even made it to the station. Which suits me fine I guess, it saved me lots of money and favors I'd otherwise have had to part with if I'd had to get them released myself. Getting anything done in this town is such an expensive shit storm.

And now for a little something to rattle Picasso's cage. Only a tenth of all the hollows lost were recovered as a result of many being claimed by rival organizations and influences, many dying from various predatory and mundane circumstances, but mainly as a result of many showing up across the U.S. and apparently the fucking world with a contact from New Zealand informing me of some showing up in the woods outside of town over there (My contact recognized my mark on them as a fair hint to how they knew they were my hollows showing up).

But of that tenth, Picasso sweety, Duckie was among them. We found him waiting for us, outside of that crashed van that I mentioned before, surrounded by the corpses of dead agents that had apparently originally survived the crash before he was done with them.

He was guarding a boy, Moth. A confused little boy with a chipped mask who was desperately hugging Duckie's arm.

I was surprised to find that the little boy wasn't a hollow. At least, he wasn't one anymore. The markings on the inside of his mask imply he was one before... but he could have just as easily of gotten one of those masks from the small collection of downed hollows in the van.

The poor frightened thing freaked out when Duckie stood down and took to a kneel for us upon my arrival. Guess it wasn't good enough that his protector trusted us if he didn't trust us. He took Duckies knife and held it out at us.

"No, no, no! St-stay back! I'm not going back!"

"Going back to what, little one?"

"Going back to that f-fucking... that..." he said trailing off his thoughts and adopting a more vacant stare as he desperately tried to dig up an answer.

"Well? Spit it out."

"Sh-Shut up! I... I-I don't know okay! But I'm not!"

"What can you remember exactly, boy?"

"... I-I... I remember I'm not going back!"

"Enlightened." A response he did not like one bit. I could see something vicious in the boy. Fear shedding to giveaway to hate directed right at me for my snarky comment. Good qualities.

"Can you tell me what happened with... all this?" I said directing his attention around to the bodies on the floor and the crashed van my men were digging through.

"I... w-well... I woke up. Woke up in... there somewhere," he said nodding towards the woods."Woke up as they were hoisting me from the ground and into the van... I couldn't think... I just knew... knew we were going back."

"Back to what?"

"I don't know alright! Back to somewhere. I-It made sense at the time! But the people, they started cutting us up one by one... and when they picked me up I... just started s-screaming... kicking and screaming." And then he backed up to Duckie again and held his knife up firm confident. "Then this one stopped them. He saved me. He dragged me out of the van and cut up the bad people that followed us and I'll cut you all up to protect him from you!"

"So why exactly are you still here then? Why didn't you two go?"

".... He said to wait."

"HE said to wait? HE did? Wait for what?"

"I-I don't know."

"And you're sure he said that?"

"Y-Yes! Wh-Why wouldn't I be?"

"Duckie deary, your sister is alive. Father hates you. Ember is living in a shell of eternal torment.... I don't know kid. I don't think hes in there. Any one of those things would have merited a rather violent reaction if he was."

"St-stop trying to trick me! C-Come on!" said the boy desperately tugging at Duckies arm. "Th-They're here and they're gonna get us!"

"Duckie, to my side please."

The boy kept tugging against Duckies arm trying to get him to stop for about half the tip over to me, at which point the boy abandoned Duckies arm in favor of returning to a defensive frightened stance.

"Wh-What did you do to him!"

"Nothing. Duckie works for me. I'm who you were waiting for."

"LIAR!" declared the insolent little fuck as it tried to turn and run for the woods. Unfortunately for him, Maggot had managed to quietly make it's way around him and was quick to disarm him and shove him to the ground.

I think it took Maggot entirely off guard when the boy started screaming and tackled Mags to the ground. He made the unfortunate mistake of making a grab for Maggot's mask, which earned him a good sock to the face. Pained and whining, Maggot took the opportunity to pin him down. 

I knelled down in front of him. "I'm not your enemy, boy. I'm not your friend. But I am his friend," I said motioning to Duckie. "And hes coming with me. I'm who he was waiting for, I can promise you that. And we're going somewhere safe. And if you like, you're more than welcome to go with him, okay? Because even if you can't trust us, you can trust that he'll keep you safe can't you?"

"N-No! You're a lier!"

"Am I? Lets see..." I said reaching out and giving the boy a painful pinch on the cheek. "How's this feel?" I asked as I jerked his head back and forth.

To which my faithful hollow Duckie tackled and pinned me down, pressing hard on my throat.

"S-See, boy," I said popping out of Duckies arms and landing back on my feet. I took a moment to straighten myself out. "Friend or not... he has certain things he simply won't let me do. I think its clear to see, one of those things is harming you."

The boy, at this point, started struggling again. I made a motion and Maggot let him out of the pin. He darted back over to Duckie and hugged Duckie's arm once more, rubbing his sore cheek, and glaring at me.

"So are you coming with us then?" I asked the boy.

"No..." he said. "I-I'm going with him."

"Close enough I guess."

And with that we started walking away from the crash site.

"Oh. By the way boy. Whats your name?"

"My... name?"

"Yeah... your fucking name. I'm Fracture. Thats Duckie. The kid that tackled you is Maggot. WHO are YOU?" I asked stopping.

"I-I'm... Ji... Ja... Je...Ju..."



"You're name is Jack. Remember? Don't forget it."

"R-Right.... Jack.... I'm Jack..."

"Yeah. Right. Sure. Why not? Come on Jack."

And then we brought him home. You should have heard him scream when he hit the path. I'm not sure hes gonna be leaving us for a little while. He didn't seem eager to cut back through that.

And with that I do believe I've covered all the interesting and relevant stuff.

The Lord Guardian Fracture out.

Thursday, October 31, 2013

Red Alert: All Hollow's Out

All abduction trained/able Free Market personal and good proxy Samaritans operating within a reasonable distance of New York, this is a Red priority alert. I repeat, code Red. Something has gone terribly wrong. All the hollows being kept by the Free Market in New York have been released and they've all worked themselves up into a violent state. Whatever is wrong with them, they aren't taking orders and they're assaulting anyone who gets too close to them. If they haven't already, it won't take long for them to draw a bunch of unwanted attention to themselves and to us by proxy.

I must request that anyone acting on this alert take measures to ensure that they bring in these hollow's alive with minimal harm to their person. These are innocent tortured shells of people we're dealing with, not rival Fear cults or runners designated for death. At the same time do not underestimate these hollows. They are acting extra violent and irrational and we're not quite sure what they're capable of.

As an additional warning we believe the traitors, and at this point terrorists, Picasso and company are on the ground floor in New York hunting hollow's trying to find Duckie. Their involvement in the hollow escape is unknown but given that they're already here and hunting its safe to say they knew it was gonna happen. Either they found a way to break into the compound or this was another inside job and we've a new traitor in the Free Market to weed out. Either way, act accordingly.

-The Lord Guardian Fracture

Monday, October 21, 2013

When we reach, we can fly...

...know inside, we can make it!

God I hate that song... catchy. 

Hello. Fracture here, finally. I'm actually starting to feeling better. I'm just trying to get the vision of a walking electrified corpse out of my head now. Those fucking eyes. I swear I can still taste eye goo.


But uh.... story for another time I suppose. I'm not ready to declassify that info just yet.

So in the meantime, here's a special little treat.

Does anyone remember when I acquired an Elf earlier this year?

He was one of David's victims. He was a member of a small band of proxies who got it in their head that they could take David and cash in the reward on his head. Kind of tragic really. I almost feel responsible somehow. Such an odd sensation to feel something you simply know to be untrue. 

They did, after all, know who David was. They knew what they were in for if they fucked up and I certainly didn't tell them to go. Such an odd sensation indeed.

Now, dear Legolas wasn't tortured like his friends were. Or, he wasn't tortured to the extent that his friends where. They were a rather horrifying mess. All he got was the forced front row showing of the slow and violent deaths of his friends, the being starved, the being fed his friends, and having to listen to the horrible wildcats sound track over and over again through the whole thing.

Oh, and his leg was amputated. That one was unique to him.

Now, that all happened some six or so months ago. We've had him in both physical and psychological therapy since then and I dare say he has almost made his way back to being a functional and capable individual. Mostly.

Hes still screams at night, he still freaks out a little if you sing the line 'we're all in this together', and he still struggles with walking some days but hes getting there. 

So, why bring him up? Because hes going to be the newest member of a group I'm about to declassify for you all.

Now these people have been operating on my behalf for a while now. They've been with me since I opened the fire cult back up. They are my personal troop of fire cultists and they handle missions for me when I need to make sure the job gets done. They hold a very prestigious position amongst their fellow fire culties and that's where the group got their unofficial designation from. The Fire Culties like to call them 'Fracture's Finest'.

Legolas will be joining this group as their personal driver and mechanic with a new designation: 'Wheels'.

So, why announce their existence? Does seem odd to show the card you've been keeping tucked in your sleeve doesn't it? Well its simple. As a threat.

Picasso. Moth. Ivy. I will send the Finest to hunt down and kill you. This is your last chance. Give up your insane quest and come home now.... Please.

Hasn't their been enough death?

Fracture out.

Sunday, October 6, 2013

Hollow's Eve

I bet you've been calling it Halloween for the last entirety or your life, fools. How dare you not automatically know a story told to Fracture by a now dead guy some twenty or so years ago.

I shit you not, that is apparently the source for this up coming tidbit. But lets immediately sidetrack ourselves for a moment.

This has nothing to do with Black Lake. While Fracture has been well enough to tell me how he wants me to comment for him, because I have been writing all his comments for him since he got back, he apparently isn't well enough to put together a report. Which sounds like bullshit to me. I swear I heard the son of a bitch doing jumping jacks in there the other night. Lazy sack of shit.

So I was digging through Fracture's various reports on rumors and proxy myths that didn't have a direct tie to Father and I found something seasonally appropriate for the month of October and I've decided to share it.

Can't have the blog going quiet while Fracture is slacking after all.

I must admit though, I kind of hope the following is true. I would squeal like an excited child if I could get my brother back because of Hollow's Eve.


Halloween. Or, as a dead man once explained it to me, Hollow's Eve.

I mean, Halloween is a day that naturally belongs to proxies. Honestly, any environment that encourages masks is a place where proxies flourish.

But supposedly, Hollow's Eve has some other significance to us. It used to be said that even if you were a proxy, that you had to watch for hollows on the days leading up to Halloween. Something about the month of October makes them become increasingly violent and autonomous. Some have even been known to start spewing half coherent gibberish, but only if they thought you weren't watching.

Supposedly on Halloween day proper hollows start acting on their own, abandon their pens and their squads if able, and roam city streets along side trick-or-treaters and gather in the woods. Its said that any attempts to try to stop them or bring them back will be met with violence and if you try to follow them and are stupid enough to let them lead you into the woods or some other isolated location they'll kill you on the spot. 

Although I don't think that pertains strictly to proxies. We've had mutilated corpses show up the morning after Hollow's Eve from both runners and civilians. People stupid enough to follow a quiet masked man off on their own. But naturally, its hard to prove that a hollow did.

Its also said that some hollows find themselves clear across the country. Hollows from New York would magically end up Los Angeles. I would have to assume they were accessing the path... and yet they never seem to use the path to escape their pens on Hollow's Eve. If you cage them up, they'll bang and slam against their prison but they'll never path out. They'll just keep screaming and banging against their cage until they tire themselves out.

Now, I know this sounds like a real shit storm but its not all bad. Its a day for celebration for at least one reason. Assuming any of this is true and not all mere superstition and coincidence, its said on Hollow's Eve that a select few hollows will 'wake up' when the moon hits it's 'highest point in the sky'.

That, 'those most(, or least depending on how the stories told,) worthy will find new life under the light of the falling moon.'

'They find the light of Day again. They find their minds and learn to talk and say again. Hollowed true with no memories or past share a new but presence enough to earn new memories and live a new life. Never what they were but once more sentient and alive.'

Or so they used to say.

And there was one more line the old man use to say that... it didn't quite fit with the rest of the speech. 

'They call to them, they sing aloud. They call the hollows, with whimsy sound. Melody of pain. Scream of delight. Sounds so shrill they cause dread and fright. Do not follow the entranced hollows, or what you hear will make you scream and shred your ears.'

Now, I'm pretty sure that had more to do with him making shit up to explain what happened to his ears because he didn't have any. His handler insisted he actually lost those to another proxy in an argument but that sounded like more hearsay to me.

Even still, I like to believe all of this is true myself but its hard to prove. Its all more or less rumors from now long dead proxies. Although, as a man serving a tall faceless monster god I try to keep an open mind.


Come back to me brother.

Devil out.

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Well, Fracture is Back. Sort of.

Hes not well, but he requested I not spoil the ending to the Black Lake affair beyond mentioning that hes alive and recovering. So.... hes a alive and recovering.

This is Devil reporting in. Reports in Fracture's stead like this were typically Sloth's responsibly but as hes been ousted for treason this little chore falls on me now. So, hi. And fuck you. I personally find it sickening that I've apparently sunk to having the same responsibilities that were once handled by scum but I guess someone has to do it. I'd question why Miss 'the Fire' couldn't handle this but her crazy ass will immediately start spewing rambly cult crap if you give her an audience.

To Med, (Here's another spoiler, Maggot survives the Black Lake Affair) Maggot is on its way to drop off the unused resources you lent us. Please stop making Helicopters, and thank you for the ones provided. Apparently they helped.

There's a note here informing me not to mention that we kept one. Here's a freebie sweetie, we kept one. I'm not sure why that would be a secret. I think Fracture just likes to think hes getting one up on everyone. I find there's no sense in engendering an unnecessary air of betrayal though.

What else... oh. We sent a hit squad after Picasso and Moth. I'm told there were mixed results on both sides but Picasso and Moth are otherwise likely still at large and alive.

On the Fringe side of things, we're currently trying to break a meeting with David Banks but without Sloth around we lack any expendable personal and as we are on largely negative terms with him any attempt of contact on our part is assumed to be a suicide mission.

Apparently, Fracture's been racking his brain over this one. Seems like a no brainier to me though. We should just ask on the blog. So here goes.

Hey David, Mr. Banks, Rapist, Master Cylinder... you, would you like the bounty on Nightscream in cash or should we just add that money to your bounty? Let us know.

I do believe that settles all current business.

So let us return to old business. Here is a Black Lake report.

"Will you need tools or anything?"

 "No. To be clear, I don't have to do this but I am. If I tell you to leave, you leave. Got it?"

"That reasonable... I guess?"

"As long as that's clear. So if you're ready, I'm ready. "

"I'm always ready."


"We'll take it to a cell. More privacy."

"That is a preferable choice."

"Don't like to put on a show I take it?"

"It's not necessary," she said with a scowl. Always so angry...

"Neither is a lot of what we're doing here."

"How do you figure?"

"We're both capable of just leaving and surviving this mess. So in a way, none of this is necessary."

"You'd abandoned your people?"

"I said I could. Its a thing I'm capable of. Something I'm pretty sure you're capable of."

"I'm aware but your capability of proceeding with that isn't what I am referring to. I'm talking morality. Would you abandon them? I know you can, but would you."

"No. If I would, I wouldn't be here."

She grabbed me by the collar and pushed me against the wall. She held me there to study my face a moment. I guess she was skeptical of whether or not I was telling the truth and was trying to read it off of me. She seemed dissatisfied with whatever she managed to divine when she finally let me down.

"We'll see," she said giving me a shove to get me moving again. "Lets hurry this along."


"What information is required from him?"

"We need to know where they're operating out of. They must have a rallying point where they keep supplies."

"Then I'll persuade him into giving you the location."

"Hear that buddy? The lady has some questions for you that you should really answer. I hear shes quite the frigid bitch if you piss her off."

"Only when I'm pissed off? I must have earned some points with you for you to say such kind things."

"I was making an assumption. Call me an optimist."

"Bit of a strong word for you."

"Then call me strong, I don't mind that either."

"It's amazing you're still alive."

 "I rose tinted my world. It keeps me safe from my troubles and pain."

"What the fuck is wrong with him?"

"Plenty of things, but let's not focus on that. Might upset the poor guy. Let's focus on you. What's your name."


"Not your actual  name, I take it?"

"No, I'm just incredibly Greek. I obviously come from a very old fashion traditional Greek family."

"Not many Greek families are involved in biker gangs, last I checked. What's your story?"

"You never seen grease? The Fonze? Greasers in leather jackets with switch blades? That's all Greek I think."

"You think. But that doesn't answer my question."

"My story was, I was shooting birds and I got tackled by a deformed dog man and once I had iced him some bitch ambushed me."

"Well, I did save your life. You're been treated rather well, considering."

"Oh yeah, I love being strapped stabbed down in an snm bed for 14 hours. Nothing beats claustrophobia and bed sores. I'm fucking living it up over here."

"Better than having your insides all over the street. What is it you do for the Timberwolves?"

"I shoot birds."

"That's it?"

"I also drive a bike, and get tackled by dog people, and get ambushed by bitches with stupid questions."

"First world problems, as the kids say.

"That sounds pretty second world to me. I've never seen a first world dog-man problem." I could hear her groan in mild irritation at my interruption after I spoke

 "How long have you been a Timberwolf for?"

"I don't know, like two years."

 "So you're a grunt."

"They say in cult circles that two years is like a life time," I stated. This netted me a glare... I slunk off to the corner.

"Yeah. I'm no scrub!"

"Span of time while a part of something doesn't make a person any less of a grunt. Becoming less a grunt has a lot to do with the person."

"If I wasn't tied down, I'd be more person than YOU could handle!"

"Don't lie to make yourself feel better, it makes you look like an idiot.

"Easy to say from your end of the straps"

"I'm not in straps, that's the point."

"I'm not quite catching your stupid point. I'm in this because you sucker punched me while I was fighting someone else. REAL toughy, aren't you."

"You ran the rakeling over and fled from your broken motorcycle into the alleyway I was watching from. Your poor eyesight, instincts and reaction time led you to getting disarmed, stabbed and knocked semi-unconscious and dragged into enemy territory. Really, your denial is so severe it's worrisome."

"Fuck you, you sucker punching bitch."

She leaned forward onto his stab wound and started applying pressure.

"This... is exactly what I'm talking about," he forced out with a pained groan.

 "You're still in the learning stage of how these things work," she said slowly pressing down harder and harder making the Cerberus squirm and struggle in his binds as he tried to bite back the pain. "This is the warning stage. Give me what I want and I'll let you go."

"Wh-What the f-f-fuck do you want?!

"Tell me where the Timberwolves sanctuary is."

Following the question, he got defiant and quiet and started struggling again. In response, LeCroix got up and pulled a case from her bag.

"What the fuck... is that?"

As it turned out, it was her torture kit.

Now, I'm not gonna get into the explicit details of what she did over this next part. I'm gonna state a summary of it plainly now and let you use your imagination. 

She pulled out a long thin needle, slowly stuck it deep into the meat of his index finger through its tip, and would push on and wiggle it to scrap it against the finger's bone.


"Answer the question, grunt."


"That's ill-advised."

"I'm N-NOT....FUCK.......... a rat........! I-I WON'T-AAHHHHHHHHHHH........... m-mother........ f-f-f-fucker... I won't!"

"I don't need to ask anymore. You'll give me what I want."

This was followed by about a full minute of shrieking and screaming. By this point he was streaming tears.

"No... no no no... no.... no... c-can't..."

"Choose," she said getting out a second needle and pressing it against the tip of a new finger.


"I'll choose for you."


"School... why a school?"

"AHHHHH. FUCK. I-It's the fucking school! Wh-What more do you want? I told you! L-Let me go, y-y-you said you'd let me go!"

"Is there food there? Supplies?"

"Find out yourself!"

"What was that?" I asked coming over to play with the needle myself.


"Sorry something stupid came out of your mouth. I think the screaming cleared it though. Wanna try again?"

"Fuck! Fuck you both!"

"What was that? Was that more stupidity?"

"........... yes.  Th-They fucking have food!"

"And they say you can't teach a dying dog new tricks."

I let go of the needle and leaned over him. "Cerberus, was it?"

"Y-Yeah! Wh-Why? Can we get this fucking needle out of my fucking finger?!"

"I just wanted to make sure I got your name right. They're gonna wanna know who sold them out after all," I explained producing a recorder for him to see.

 "You assholes!"

 "He's all yours now. My job is done."

"My, what they must do to traitors under a death god. Most proxies just slit throats. But I hear Timberwolves have this flair for rituals. I pray for your sake, the archangel picks you off first..."

"...Or that the Path takes you."

I pulled him through the path and dumped him into a loop, for storage until it was safe to throw him to the wolves. 

(Post note: Devil here. He's been thrown to the wolves. We dumped him in California shortly after alerting a local Timberwolf gang of who he was, what he did, and where his general location was gonna be. We also sent them a copy of the recording. They scoffed and dismissed us but we have evidence of them mobilizing and moving in on the spot later that afternoon. It would seem the hunt is on.)


"He'll die either way, how he does doesn't matter. This was his fate the moment he got involved with them," LeCroix informed me once I had returned.

"It's the fate of all living things. There's nothing new under a dying sun."

"So you say..."

"You want in on the timberwolf raid?"

"Yes. What is the priority of the mission?"

"Find the supplies and steal them. If their numbers are low, kill everyone."

"Heh, can do."

After that I started organizing my personal troop and gathered some volunteers. Lots of planning to do... we can't afford to fuck this up.

Tomorrow, we rob the timberwolf camp blind.

Spoiler :   They go do that.

Devil Out.

Saturday, September 14, 2013

To Catch a Cultist

The coyotes, they sing at the park... the city life, it's falling to the sea. 
The winding roads are winding down, soon the flying man'll hit the ground. 
Their every swing brings me closer to crashing! 
The coyotes sing, they call for my death scream...

But I've come back for more. You should have locked your doors. You knew we were gunning for you. And we aren't gonna stop, not today or tomorrow.

And now that I have that incredibly irrelevant tangent out of the way, Hello.

Fracture here, of course. I'm here to give an update on the Black Lake situation. But first, here's an important note for you following us at home: these reports are being delayed.

The information from these next few posts are pre-written and have been put on a timer to span out the information in case any of the sentient cultists ravaging the town happen to be watching this blog. You can never be too careful nowadays. 

And now that that incredibly relevant tangent is out of the way, the update! Le Croix is back. She seems to have survived and better yet so has Maggot, no offense to Le Croix of course. But the real highlight here is they brought a timberwolf back with them. Mission fucking accomplished. Finally some good news.

We've got him tied up and locked away in cell under constant watch for the moment, you can never be too careful. Tomorrow, we're gonna 'interrogate' him and see what we can't learn. I've got my fingers crossed that he can lead us to the timberwolf camp. They'd have to have food there. They have to.

And fortunately enough, I've been able to talk Le Croix into doing the honors of the interrogation for us. I happen to know from my files on her that she can be very persuasive. Although I'm a bit concerned she might get out of hand and kill the timberwolf before we can get the answers we need out of him. I'd have one of my own men do it if I had any here that had any sort of experience with this kind of thing but it should be fine. I have faith that she'll do whats best to help these people. I know I can at least trust her to do that much...

Now as a special treat, since I didn't go on Le Croix's little expedition and thus can't comment on what they encountered up their myself, I had everyone who did go write up a report.

Snips' Report

(I didn't mention it in the last post, but I had Snips go with LeCroix and Maggot, can't show all your cards.)

Snips here reporting in to Captain Catman, my Lord and Guardian from afar behind a desk!

Howdy Fracture. Thanks for sending me on a mission with the horribly frigid bitch that shot me a few months back. That was great. Fuck you old man.

So, I got tasked as Overwatch this mission. Since apparently this is gonna hit the blog, I'll explain this for once. Overwatch means I take my sniper rifle, I climb real high, and then I sit on a roof and get to watch the operation and feed information to the ground team about things I can see that they can't and potentially provide covering fire from afar should it prove necessary.

Now, since we're trying to keep our location concealed, I was given explicate orders not to fire my gun under any circumstances. Not that Bitch Face LeCroix could be bothered to keep hers quiet.

So all I did was observe and report. But our communication lines were all fucked up. LeCroix doesn't have a radio piece. Only Maggot does and Maggot doesn't fucking talk, the useless little shit. So I could only inform half the team on anything with any sort of speed. To pass anything to LeCroix I had shoot the bitch a text. She's lucky she didn't get speared by a charging rakeling while she was checking her fucking phone.

Worst operation ever, seriously. I'm surprised they aren't both dead.

Now as for what I saw of the operation, they left and immediately moved behind a building to where I couldn't see them. They stayed gone for hours with little communication leaving me to wonder if I was wasting my fucking time. Then there was a large fight between the timberwolves and a pack of rakelings in a nearby street. And then LeCroix and Maggot came back with a  timberwolf and pack of campers hot on their trail.

Thank god the campers lost interest. The last fucking thing we would have needed is a fight on our fucking doorstep right now.

After all that, imagine my horrible fucking when I came down to greet them only to find out they had failed the primary objective. They didn't bring me back any fucking beer. Not a bottle, or can, or drop. This whole thing, horrible waste of time.

But hey, they brought back a timberwolf to be tortured, questioned, and gutted. That's something I guess.

Maggot's Report

How dare you insult my oath with a request for communication. Insult me further Fracture, and I will feed you your spleen.

LeCroix's Report

Black Lake is in a state of hostility; any sentient being is doing what they can to survive while the anarchists and beasts are do everything in their power to hunt down anything with a heartbeat. A self-appointed mission was set into motion, unexpected company of a child turned proxy (identification: Maggot) accompanied me into the wastelands that was once a town. A third member was added, a sniper (identification: Snips) who would remain stationed as an observer. Personally, she was far too chatty and obnoxious. I don’t regret shooting her during our previous encounter; amusingly enough she remembered who I was even in the dark of night.

Had I been a regular rookie the conditions on the outside would have brought me to my knees, luckily that was not the case. My temporary partner seemed to not be affected by our surroundings and I took faith on the fact he wouldn't be a nuisance because of it.

Our objective was a simple one: Capture a Timberwolf
The leader of operations (identification: Fracture) remained stationed at our current safe house. His condition currently is unwell; severely lacking sleep seems to be affecting his ability to work, or so I believe. It isn't to the point of being problematic but it is something noticeable, a health risk waiting to cripple the party. (Because you’re undoubtedly reading this, Fracture, I suggest you sleep; and if you have slept I suggest you sleep more.)

The reason for said mission was to discover the nest of the Timberwolves.
Maggot and I set out during the night, narrowly avoiding a waiting ambush of Rakelings (as the proxies have dubbed them). That was almost one hell of a miscommunication. We entered a manhole Maggot had spotted and decided to pass any obstacles underground, unfortunately we found our fair share lurking beneath. Not long after we entered something caught my attention; a large, serpentine-like creature darted from one pipe and into another right as Maggot was passing. My guess now is the creature was attempting to attack and missed. It went unnoticed to the boy; he was confused as to why I abruptly pulled him back behind my person.

I briefly described what I had witnessed to the boy and he didn’t have a clue. Backtracking would only delay things further; we didn’t have much more ground to cover by the looks of it either. I took aim with my gun and flashlight and led the way from there, both of us now alert to danger and moving swiftly.

The creature returned from behind my person, separating us and tackling me into a wall. It temporarily disoriented me; my vision became static as Maggot removed the creature with a tackle of his own. It managed to disarm the boy and spear him to the ground before I put several bullets into it. It fled immediately, leaving me without any answers as to whether it was dead or not. Maggot’s condition was fine and we proceeded out of the next manhole quickly.

We crept through alleyways until we found a herd of Timberwolves loudly circling a church, firing upon the flock of birds above it as a man stood on the roof and fired a flamethrower on any of the winged cretins that neared him. We stationed ourselves in a small antique store; Maggot pulled up surveillance on the computer and we staked out the scene. This went on for hours, to the point where I removed myself from the chair and took it upon myself to examine our surroundings.

The antique store was filled with knick knacks I didn’t care for; we disabled the alarm to prevent any possible accidents from alerting any surrounding monsters. I took it upon myself to acquire some of the older knives from one of the cases, though not as sharp they would still serve a useful purpose to distract or catch another off guard. Especially useful when trying to avoid being noticed, guns can be so noisy.

There was a safe beneath the case that used the same code as the security. Disabling that was a simple task but the contents within were curious. Again, knick knacks of no use; the only thing that alerted me to unusual behavior was the vial of black liquid (identification: Azoth). I was vaguely familiar with this; I returned it to the safe to prevent any form of exposure. It begged me to question though just why a shopkeeper was keeping such an item; despite the fact this was a cult town.

Impatience grew, I was used to staking out criminals but this wasn’t a mission that we could continue delaying on. Seeing how the Timberwolves were still circling the church even hours later we had to act, waiting was proving to be useless. We devised a plan based on Maggot’s uses; his ability to be a quick distraction would prove beneficial. He left and made himself known to the Timberwolves, successfully alerting and provoking them all at once. Just as quickly as he appeared he fled down the street, dodging away from their firearms. I stood by at the entrance of the alleyway and watched the main horde drive off, in search for the slowest biker. It appeared a Rakeling had similar intentions, but this time motorcycle beat monster and it was crushed beneath its tires. The transportation was wrecked and the man dismounted and moved quickly for the alleyway I was stationed in. I backed in further to avoid detection before grabbing hold of the man, disarming him and dragging him in further. The mutt struggled in the hold and I used one of the stolen knives to lessen his chances of escape by impaling it in his leg. Nothing he would bleed to death from, naturally.

Maggot was nowhere in sight and I had to decide the next course of action. Messaging Snips did nothing to help me in that time; the boy was off the grid for the moment from her opinion. I decided to continue with the primary objective and return the Timberwolf to the safe house. He was resisting greatly despite the injury and I was not about to risk having a noisy prisoner, I disoriented him with a blow to the head against the pavement below before we began our walk back.

The boy reappeared not too long after, with a tackle to the ground and a knife to my face. Realization broke through to him and he returned to standing and I returned to dragging the prisoner. We encountered a hooded figure stumbling as we neared the safe house, it approached us steadily and after demanding it to freeze (it obliged) and remove its hood (to which it did not oblige) it attacked. A corpse-like being tackled me the ground and I removed its weight from my form before taking aim. I fired two bullets into its chest and it shifted back slightly at the impact, otherwise there was no reaction. This wasn’t like the previous creatures that still reacted when injured; it appeared to either not have noticed it was shot or simply didn’t feel it. Its head tilted back and it began vomiting black-blue fluid upwards, I fired a bullet into its throat to cease its actions. The corpse stopped, still no reaction to the pain (should it have felt any). It leapt again towards my person and I moved out of its way, steadying my aim on its leg. It continued past me towards the prisoner and boy and I fired two rounds on its leg, successfully preventing it from taking to the air.

Maggot moved the Timberwolf aside and barely managed to dodge himself as the corpse made another attempt to leap. I took hold of its hoodie and pulled the corpse from the child, demanding he flee with the prisoner. He disobeyed and pulled out a knife, cutting the ankles deeply before motioning for me to abandon the corpse.

We returned to the safe house successfully and the Timberwolf was removed from my custody. Snips continued being chatty and I continued to ignore her behavior. The sooner this is over with the better, I could use some sleep.

-A.B. LeCroix

Up next, torture time! But first, I'm gonna take LeCroix up on her advice  and see if I get some sleep.

Wish us luck... but in the past tense because again, by the time you've seen these the next post should have already happened.

Fracture Out.

Thursday, August 29, 2013

Friend or Foe? Nobody knows.

There was fuss outside. The Masked Guardians were gearing up and steeling themselves. Apparently a scavenger trip had been followed back by something and he requested all available manpower to come aid to be sure they didn't find our hideout.

I am fortunate enough to have my personal troop of fire cultists with me. I brought them in to chase down Picasso and Moth if things soured in their confrontation with Duckie. And since things did sour, they were out trying to track them before Black Lake was purged. I was lucky they weren't too far out, I was able to call them back in to aid us but they didn't arrive until the riots were over and by then there was little they could do but help us secure ourselves while the sea of shit flooded in.

I was in the process of gathering my fire troop to aid the Guardians when we got the all clear. 

The message read:
'Threat Neutralized. Potential Ally Found.'

Oh goody... a stranger, Stranger Danger.

I had them escort our new arrival in under heavy watch, relieved my troop of duty for now, and called Maggot aside for a special mission. I had Maggot hide away in my office ready to strike if things went south.

Then I took a deep breath and set out to meet our guest.

"Is this place safe?" I heard through the door.

"Well well. I heard we have a guest," I announced walking into the room, "So... just who the hell are you?"

"LeCroix, and you?"

"Name's Frank. Folks have been calling me Fracture though."

Click. Subtle. She just flicked the safety off on her gun with a gesture. While the gun was still holstered, I knew she was just waiting for an opportunity now. 

"The dubbed leader of operations."

"Leader of operations?"

"You have plenty of others that do your bidding for you, or so I've been informed."

"Well. I'm trying to get them in to help us here but I didn't have anyone nearby. These brave souls were men and women from this town that bravely took up the mask to protect it. Come. We should talk in private."

She set her trap, time to lead her to mine. So I led her to my office where we could talk in 'private'.

"What is it you are doing here?"

"At the moment, trying to get these people out alive."


"Because if I don't they're going to be devoured by the fear presence that's been swarming into this place."

"And that matters to you? Last I checked, you and yours make a habit of destroying lives."

"No. We make a habit of hunting, for Father.  I will not stand idly by and let people die at the hands of those Monsters we call his Siblings."

 "Tell me about the civilians, are they regular civilians that just happened to be in the way or are they like you, worshipers?"

"That's complicated. Both? I was trying to turn this place into a cult town. Or rather, back into a cult town."

"So every one of them is a worshiper?"

"They've never seen Father. Or any of the other fears.  Even the mask bearers don't fully understand the weight of what they wear. But everyone here has been exposed to their influence through the fear cult's attack. Even if they get out of this fine and dandy, they're all going to fear touched. Trapped in this game, forever chased by monsters."

 "You sure you aren't the monsters here?"

"I might be the monster but these people are innocent. They're still ignorant to the true depths of the situation they're in."

"You're taking advantage of their ignorance. You're good at that."

"No. I'm waiting until they're safe to inform them that they're fucked and there's no hope..."

It was quite for a moment after that. She studied me with cold eyes and then rolled a shoulder as she shifted the subject elsewhere.

"Do you have a plan of action?"

"I have my men on their way here but none of them are close and none of them are equipped for extended combat on a wholly hostile battleground. This situation is so far beyond anything contingencies I had prepared. If things get any worse, we're gonna have to try to make a break for it, but that didn't turn out well for the last group of survivors that tried to do it."

"Why aren't your oncoming people equipped properly?"

"They are equipped for hitting squads and elements hidden among cities. The scale of this... its just... to much. It could take weeks to get the kind of numbers we would need to deal with this rallied together and longer to get them armed for the incredibly diverse arraignment of shit encroaching on the town."

"Anything else I need to know off the top of your head?"

"I wouldn't know where to start."

"Anywhere. I'd prefer to resolve this sooner rather than later considering we have yet to know how bad it will get."

"Eventually one of the cults or monsters will scare off the others and claim the ground. We'll have no hope of escape if that happens."

"I'd rather not be caught in that. I have places to be. Who are you betting on to be the winner?"

"Right now, the Ferallings. But the Timberwolves are actually putting up a decent fight. We've been trying to figure out where they are basing their operations out of. They're sure to have brought in a wealth of supplies with them."

"Any luck?"

"Not yet. I can't imagine its in the woods though. Has to be somewhere in town. Somewhere defensible. We've checked the obvious potential locations: churches, bars, dives, auto-shops. But so far, no dice."

"What kind of supplies would the Timberwolves require? Aside from the basics. Every group specializes a bit differently."

"They'ed need somewhere secure but with a wide enough space to congregate for their religious rituals but with a healthy supply of shop equipment..."

"Quite the puzzle you have on your hands," she said taking her hands off her gun for the first time since she's flicked the safety off. "What would be good is if we captured one of them for an interrogation."

I wasn't sure how to read that. She might have been doing it to try to lull me into a false sense of security. Or it might have been a more sincere moment of her letting her guard down, just a little. I mentally braced for a quick draw scenario. Cynicism saves lives.

"Hard to do. They keep in groups of six. The only time you see them is numbers smaller than that is if they're limping back from a bad fight."

"Here I thought you and yours knew about the art of stalking."

"The only hunting proxies we've got on us are Maggot, Snips, General, and Firecracker. Two of which, can't operate effectively because their techniques draw a lot of attention. The rest of the masked men you've seen around are civilians and are severely under trained for such an operation."

"The latter I'm aware of as of now. You only said two of the four were useless for this type of thing, what of the other two?"

"Medical Specialist General and... well, Maggot, come out."

"Are you saying it's useless because it's a child?"

"No. The medical specialist and Maggot here are the two whose training is most effective here. Of course General isn't much more than support in a fight."

"So you're saying I'm solo on abducting a cripple Timberwolf."

"Maggot can keep up with you and help as needed. Moth trained the little bastard. So as you can imagine, Maggot is very capable."

"Very well." The mention of Moth seemed to catch her attention.

"Maggot child, please go get ready for the mission. Remember, you're going soundless on this one."

"So, how many of your boys in masks died?"

"You mean proper proxies in this particular situation or the masked civilians?"

"Both are yours."

"We lost all our masked veterans and most of their supporting police force."

"Does it bother you?"

"... Its easier with the masked ones. They chose to fight... they kind of knew it was coming..."

"That's not a direct answer."

"Yes, it bothers me."


"I'm just classy like that."

"If that's what you like to think."

"It is."

"Well, at least you're honest about one thing."

"At least you're not a complete bitch about everything."

She looked up from the map of the town laid out before her and smirked. 
"Glad we see eye to eye."


"All set Kiddo?" she asked as Maggot came arrived back in the room. Maggot nodded.

"Oh. Maggot doesn't talk by the way."

"I'm used to the silent type."

"Just figured I should make sure I plainly stated it at least once"

"Aren't you sweet, lead the way kiddo."

And then they went. 

Maggot's out there alone with a psychotic violent runner, as so many seem to be these days. A runner that likely doesn't even see Maggot as a human being. She probably sees Maggot more like an expendable tool. Something to throw away to get the job done...

... Nothing but evil in an endless sea...


Sunday, August 25, 2013

Black Lake Lives...

... But just barely.

Apparently, Picasso and Moth found their way to the statue that had been protecting the town and for some god forsaken reason decided it was a good idea to blow it up.

I'm still trying to process how the fuck they found that thing, who the hell Red is, how she got C4, and most importantly why the fuck they did this. This didn't bring them any closer to killing Duckie. It just killed a lot of the towns innocent residents.

Was I trying to turn the town into a cult town? Yes. But that doesn't have anything to do with Duckie. Hell, that decision on my part didn't even have anything to do with Father. 

If I hadn't stepped in, one of the other cults would have just ran in and killed everyone. I gave them advice, I told them how to fight the monsters, I gave them weapons, and then I gave those willing to fight masks.

Sure, they might have been on the slow road to a proxy colony but the alternative was death.


I'd honestly be looking for answers on how it got to this bad right now but I'm finding the present situation demands my undivided attention.

When Picasso and Moth destroyed that statue, it cause an visual shock wave of energy that rippled out from the lake and washed over the town following a furious declaration from a loud booming voice.


The words alone caused the very ground we stood on to shake. And that fucking shock wave. It set about half of the town's population on fire. Everyone it rolled over was put face to face with their greatest fear in an epileptic fit that had everyone seizing on the floor. I woke up from it before most of them. I've long since had a grip on my demons. I tried to snap a few of them out of it but nothing worked. Best I could do for them was make sure they didn't choke on their tongues over the course of their fucking fits and even then I was only really able to do that for a a handful of people.

One of two things happened to everyone. They stood up to whatever vision was being forced upon them and woke up, like I did, or they failed to confront their fear and... lit on fire. 

In the aftermath of it all. It was had to tell who all had actually been fried as unworthy and who was unlucky enough to have fallen too close to an unworthy friend when the shock wave hit them.


There was an emergency meeting at city hall. The survivors where all understandably terrified and scared. Many of them were shell shocked from the whole experience. Facing their fears was one thing. It was another thing to wake up to loved ones screaming and burning alive.

I urged the town that we needed to stage a large scale evacuation. Our numbers had been crushed. Almost all of the town's defensive force had been burned alive as 'unworthy' and the purge would serve as a beacon calling out all the cults that had been trying to break into the town in numbers far beyond what we were equipped to handle. Black Lake was lost.

I proposed a plan to sneak as many people as possible out under escort. But the plan involved a distraction from most of our surviving forces and it would almost certainly spell out death for everyone playing decoy. But, it would have gotten roughly 90% of everyone out. 

Fearful for their lives, a group of surviving police officers proposed a different plan. That we arm everyone possible and rush out in one big group guns a blazing.

A riot broke out. Fist fighting and looting. The town was torn apart by the town divided making a desperate grab for resources to enact the plan they backed. Those loyal to me and the masked did everything we could but the police faction overwhelmed us. They refused to listen to reason and took all we had gathered and abandoned us to die in what was left of the town. 

Then they proceeded to die trying to make a break for it down the street. I watched in horror from the outskirts of town with my binoculars as they were torn apart by a large pack of Maenads that came charging out of the woods to greet them.


We don't have an out anymore. We have what we need to sustain ourselves and try to protect ourselves but we lost too many people and too much time in that senseless fucking riot. The other cults are here now and in force.  Even if they weren't, we don't have the man power to stage the distraction anymore.

We're holed and hidden away. I have help coming but I don't think its gonna be enough. Even if the warring cults over head don't accidentally stumble upon us, we don't have enough food to hold out until help would arrive. I've been sending out teams of people to search for food but they don't always come back... and what they can safely find isn't doing much to buy us the kind of time we would need.

I just... don't know what to do anymore... I don't know what I'm doing... it all seems so hopeless...

There's just nothing for us out there. Only evil horrible things. A sea of it slowly pouring into the town... 

...and we're drowning...

...Lord and failed Guardian Fracture, out.

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Whispers Death and Hold you Dear.

So... I've been sick. Sick and injured in fact.

Have you ever talked with the Rake by the pale moonlight? Its a terrible fucking idea. Seriously, don't do that.

I wandered out into Maenad territory to prove to myself there was no rake anymore. I wanted it to be true. I wanted that hideous mutt to be gone for good. But It wasn't. I found myself face to face with it, surrounded by a pack of its little ferallings.  They walked in a circle around us. Some of them had weapons and were pacing around us on two feet... some of them were looking a little less then human. Like little rakes, malting and paling with varying amounts of patches of hair still left on their disgusting scalps. The sight of them was enough to make me nauseous but the Feral Beast himself... I lost my dinner... and lunch... breakfast... probably a few meals earlier than that.

It snickered and smiled wide for a moment. I thought it might be opening wide to gobble me up... but it just stopped at a smile-like... thing... thank god.

"Hello Fracture~... what brings you to my neck of the wood. Tired of living already?"

"Just... needed to prove something to myself... I was wrong. Now I'm going home."

I went to step home... but I found I hadn't gone anywhere. I tried again.... nothing... my door... it wasn't there...

"Daww... Whats wrong kitten? Can't leave? Don't act so surprised. I can't have you leaving yet. I need you to stay a moment and listen to me so you can pass a little message on to your master."

And then it pinned me to the floor. I felt it run its claw down my back... then I felt them dig in and pull at a my flesh.

"I-I will! I-I WILL!" I screamed, pained in fright at the sensation of those horrible... claw... things.

"Yes... smart... wise. What a good kitten. Your screams should send quite a message... your corpse will leave quite a statement."

All I could respond with was more screaming as it started to actually cut into me.

"Whats wrong?! Aren't you happy?! You know the truth. I'm still alive. The pursuit of knowledge is so noble isn't it?! I'm so happy I could give you such a valuable gift in your final moment! Do you like it?! Don't you love it?!"

That's when there was a yelp loud gunshot. Followed by a yelp and growls all around us. The rake stopped. I looked around to find a Feralling dead and bleeding against a tree. Another shot and another one went down. Mist of blood... snips had finally decided the situation had turned bad. The Ferallings all moved to cover.

The Rake tore down my back again watching curiously for a response. Another shot. A furious savage cry was let out from over me. The beast flipped me so I could see my demise and the closing bullet wound that had pieced through its.

"This isn't fun anymore. I don't care for guest. Misery loves company and I'll have none of that!"

I started screaming as its mouth started to open wide. Not to smile this time. Wider. Wide enough to take my head off with a bite.

That horrible voice... booming in my head.
Then suddenly a fire bust our in a ring around us. I heard all the Ferallings start yelping and retreating. Even the rake leaped out and off of me and stared confused as to what just happened. For all its kunning and savageness... it was still an animal at heart. Still a victim of one of the most primal and simple fears... fire.

Its mouth closed. It glared.

"Next time kitten. Don't forget to pass that message along. Hahaha."

And then it left... I tried to step again... found I had landed on something soft... passed out. Woke up in my bed. Sick and injured.

Couldn't move much. Had Sloth read and type some comments for me... but apparently I got delirious. Had to stop all together.

I shouldn't have listened to her.

I should have believed what I saw with my own eyes. I didn't need to prove anything... I knew better... I checked anyways....

And apparently a few things have gone to shit in my absence.

One of the runners I'm responsible for got swamped by a different fear... I should have saw the signs.

And Picasso apparently found and destroyed a valuable archive library that had a Archivist collecting invaluable data about how fear cults war and interact.... a fucking travesty.

I'm gonna see if I can't manage to get up off my feet and deal with this shit...

Fracture out.

Monday, July 1, 2013

The Call is Coming from Inside the House

So... something is a miss and my sniper is pissed.

Le Croix managed to clip her after her and Moth preemptively tracked her down while she was setting up to attempt to bring Picasso down.

I had thought at the time that I had just been getting sloppy and predictable as this was my second attempt to bring down Picasso with the same sniper but after talking with the sniper a bit afterwards it's come to my attention that we have a mole.

Snips does not like getting caught off guard. She claims she was very careful and the only way someone would have caught her given the circumstances is if they knew who to look for, or so she claimed. She did a lot digging, with my blessing, while she was recovering and she found something very interesting.

The day before Moth and LeCroix ambushed Snips and shortly before she arrived injured from the attack, we received a call from an unknown number to an internal private line within the compound that I had thought to be out of use. The line was connected to a device that I believe was forwarding calls to someone. It would seem the contact Moth referenced in that post is our Mole.

Unfortunately, I accidently destroyed the evidence moving the device. Apparently the room was outfitted with a few electromagnets that were carefully and maticulously placed in close proximity. Moving the device so much as an inch was enough to put the device in range of being wiped of any and all useful data.

That room also ruined my phone...

In any event, its clear someone within the compound is helping the traitors and has done who knows how much other damage to us.

There are only three within my loop besides me who should have been able to access that area... when I figure out which one of you did it, I'm going to rip off your arms and legs and sell you to a cult town.

Unless its you, Sloth. I have lots of special plans for you <3.

God I hope its you. I've been waiting to gut you for far too long.

Lord Guardian Fracture out.

Friday, June 21, 2013

PSA: Azoth

First off, some minor news. 
We are secure in our limited holdings in Phoenix and are doing what we can to expand what is ours there without drawing unnecessary attention to ourselves. The place is still kind of a shit and is, for the most part, still suffering constant warfare from the other groups that are looking to control it.

I broke into Med's house. She makes it really easy to do actually.

And following shortly after Med's little raid on a local proxy lab with Noir, I got a windfall of equipment, lab notes, and other goodies. Coincidence? Not even a little! I pulled that shit out of the burning building. No sense in letting it all go to waiste after all.

And now for the main event.

I've been seeing a lot of experiments lately of a very specific nature. That is to say, people experimenting on or with Azoth. It has left me to wonder one very important question. 

"Do you think ants ever experiment on human spit in a fruitless effort of find a way to destroy us?"

I mean, I keep seeing everyone chasing and playing with this stuff in an effort to make an impact on Father with it and I have to wonder why everyone just assumes hes made entirely out of Azoth or that he'll react things the same way the Azoth does.

Am I the only one that sees a scientific flaw with treating Father as a biological entity and then handling the data like hes a giant single celled organism despite his obvious complexity? How do we even know that all Azoth is even the same. Sure it all looks black but is it not possible that Azoth taken from different parts of Father has different functions and different make ups. Is it not also possible that Azoth extracted directly from father is fundamentally different from Azoth we find developing in proxies and runners as a result of exposure to father due to the very nature of our own anatomy adapting the Azoth or the Azoth adapting to us.

For years now runners have looked at each other baffled at why this stuff seems to react differently across different accounts with no thought to the simple answer. What you're dealing with is different. All the fluids in my body are not created equal and serve many different functions and react to stimuli differently.

So why has it been so inconceivable that Father would be any different.

-The Lord Guardian Fracture.