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.


  1. Fracture's welcome to keep one. I have more than I know what to do with, and even more now that the others are being returned. Thanks for the heads up.

    1. No problem. Say hi to Maggot for me. Let me know if it tilts its head or just stares.

  2. Hi, Devil, and fuck you right back for highlighting the spoiler when I'm on my phone.

    I am very glad Fracture is safe.

    How are you going to catch the Timberwolves off guard by posting that you're going to do so on your blog? That's a paddling.

    1. Daw. I'm sure he'll be happy to hear that. Also, fuck you twice! The spoiler reads: They go do that.

      And this report is old. The Black Lake incident is over... mostly. We have a lot of dislocated survivors to sort through. (Additional spoilers, more people survived.) The reports were withheld until the information could be declassified.

    2. I for one think he would be appalled to hear that.

      Fuck you three times.

      Thanks for telling me what the spoiler was.

    3. You'd be surprised then.

      Fuck you one hundred and eighty seven times.

      Your welcome bitch.

    4. Fuck you one THOUSAND times.

    5. Like hell! I ain't into scars.

    6. Fuck the both of you five thousand times because I really like saying "FUCK YOU!"

    7. What did poor Sanna ever do to you, Rag doll?

    8. Well bollox to you TEN THOUSAND times, Razza.

  3. Yeah so Father wants to if you want us to 'clean up' Black Lake.

    Y'know, make sure it's off the map and what not.

    1. In the words of a smiling, wounded, psychopath:

      Its been dealt with.

      Hehe. Spoilers.

    2. Ugh, thank Christ. From what's been described on here it sounded like clean up was going to be a fucking bitch. Burying/burning bodies, dealing with anything that might have survived, making it seem like the town and the people in it never existed. That just requires a massive load of work and a metric shit ton of coffee on my part.

    3. I'm told the roads have been closed off and the sizable cult activity was stomped, if not destroyed. What's left of the town or who may be inhabiting it is unknown but it is no longer our issue.

  4.'re all destroying each other still? ~ C

    1. For as long as man as had something of value and a neighbor...

    2. Fracture! You're alive and posting. My day just got marginally better. If you were here now, I would not run away from you. That makes you one of four, possibly five people in this world I won't run away from.

      Can I ask a really big favour? Like, a diagnosis? You're a doctor, right? Well, I know it's rude to ask doctors stuff outside the office or whatever but I don't have many options. I can't bring myself to eat, or sleep, in the event that I do sleep I have vivid nightmares about being tortured by Morningstar, at one point I was sleepwalking and made a post while having a nightmare, also sometimes I'll be staggering around and suddenly something reminds me of it, like the smell of blood, or Star's laughter, or screaming. Or I randomly start freaking the fuck out. And violent outbursts because people coming near me is scary. I can't even try to relate to them.

      As time goes on I remember more and more of the torture. So, I know that at one point he tortured me with a dull rusty scalpel he also tortured one of the children with. Did the rustiness give me like some kind of mental disease or something? Like... really fucking bad mental tetanus????

    3. You sound like you're suffering from Post Traumatic Stress. Flashbacks and memory triggers bringing about episodes/fits. Given the nature of the abuse, it does not surprise me to hear you're having a hard time trusting people or relating to them as people.

      This very likely has nothing to do with the rust or any one thing Star did to you, but rather everything Star did to you. You need counseling or a support group, but the particulars of your life (Namely, being a runner.) make that less of an option.

      If there was anyone you trusted, I'd say you might find comfort in them and their company.

      Father help you if this isn't simply a traumatic disorder. The last need you need in your condition is to discover you're being hunted by the Grotesque.

    4. Crap. Will it ever go away?

      Shit. Thanks anyway.

    5. It should lessen in time. You should seriously seek out the company of someone you can trust.

    6. Not happening. One is in a bad fever, another is looking after a kid, two others are busy chasing up leads in the US of A and I presume you're busy too.

    7. I'll see what I can manage when I'm feeling better.