Sunday, July 20, 2014

Wrath is Eternal

Or so I've been hearing lately.

Its that shithead's go to line...

Lets scale back a bit. Ease into it. Lube up. Foreplay. All that jazz. Then we'll jump in again once everyone's ready.

Assuming that last sentence wasn't creepy enough to scary you off, that is. He'd probably prefer you not read this anyways. He hated blogs... hated blogging... hated bloggers.

He was just an all around shit head really.

Scaling back.

So, Whisper is finally doing better. Hes finally found his voice again and we've resumed hollowing and storing death marked runners. That is still an unfortunate necessity of my job. But its better than dying. I have to believe that.

Whisper tends to agree with me on the topic but I think he just likes feeling self important. The whole hollowing operations depends on him. If we tried to hand someone death marked over to Father to be hollowed he'd just kill them. That Motherfucker is so narrow sighted. But alas, I should just be happy he allows me the alternative of hollowing them at all... I guess.

We've let Devil out of lock down... kind of. Shes in chains. We quite literally have a ball weight and chain shackled to her feet for good measure. The chains restrict enough to keep her from crafting and the weights ensure she wouldn't survive a run through the path before the denizens ripped her apart. We've got both her hands wrapped into balls and tethered together by her wrists anyways. She couldn't open a door or really do much harm on her own if she wanted to. Although I suspect she doesn't. I've had Ralph feeding her in the meantime. Although I caught her eating with no hands the other day... quite the mess.

Little Jack is still a shit head. Ivan is off with the couriers. Maggot is still off with Em and David.

Oh, and here's the Kicker, I woke Duckie back up.

Lets scale back again. Explain the very nature of how Duckie is even still alive. See Duckie is special. Hes like a warhead. His presence is toxic to fears. They hate it. They hate him. They hiss and squeal. It honestly seems to wound them to whatever small degree.

And that's why I've always fought so hard for Duckie. Because we can use him bash the other Fears under Father's thumb when they fall out of line without ripping a fucking hole in reality as tends to happen when Father has to do it himself.

And that plan honestly could have saved us from our current situation of being hunted like animals by the other fears if it was just one or two of them. But its all of them jabbing at all sides. Made it hard to figure out where to send the warhead.

But Duckies gift comes at a great personal cost to himself. Something long time readers might have noticed.

See, the presence of fears gives poor Duckie an aneurysm. Specially speaking, a brain aneurysm 

Now, it was actually never my intent to use Duckie against a fear. That would have been a last resort. Quite frankly, they hate me enough without me trying to shove a thumb in their eyes and it's not my place. That's Fathers place... presumably. I mean they are his Brothers and Sisters.

I was gonna use Duckie in a very important generational blood sacrifice. His special 'trait' and his taught hatred for everyone around around him made him a perfect candidate. But that's neither here or there. We always have more candidates... although Duckie might have been a grand enough sacrifice to have bought us multiple generations before anyone else had to die... real pity. 

Naturally Father wasn't thrilled with the idea. In fact, I think that was the first time he ever ripped into be outside of one of my loops. I still have the scar just under my left rip to show for that. I should count myself lucky he didn't take any organs out on his exit that day... I guess.

But I got him to agree the way I always do. See, proxies have quite a reputation for making deals with Father. Bargaining with him. David's was quite famous in his own day for being able to make deals for other people with Father as a kind broker.

I have never been so fortunate. Something about Father and I's relationship has always been a little more on the... hostile side. I make all my deals by bet. If I lose, I get dragged off into a loop and ripped apart bit by bit for... well the deal is for 24 hours but I get the sense he goes for longer... never quite... get use to that...


[Fuckface zoned out for like, half an hour. I had to snap him back to reality by punching the desk.  -Jack]

Uh, right. So... where... right! But if I win, I get my way.

For Duckie the bet was simple. If, once indoctrinated, he stayed true to his vow of loyalty to Father for 10 years, I got to keep him. If not, in addition to being shredded behind closed loops, I had to put him down with my own hands or my shredding would not be in a loop this time.

Gambled and won. Duckie never shy'd away. Not even when I told him how much Father hated him. Not even when I told him he had to die.

Like a loyal dog... his only recourse was to kneel and wait.

I won. But that Motherfucker.... such a poor loser. He altered the deal. Sure I got Duckie, but just the shell. To spite me, and to great audible personal discomfort, Father picked him up by the neck and peeled away all the made Duckie who he was.

I found it hard to be mad. I mean I had just won. Hollowed or not, I still had Duckie. My precious little sacrifice.

I hadn't anticipated just how petty Father really was. The lengths that motherfucker might take to wiggle around our wager.

Oh he could have just told me. I would have sped up the sacrifice. Hid Duckie far out of his sight as not to remind him of his loss. Would have made arrangements to appease him. Fed him Konna or tossed Zero's sword into a Volcano. Whatever it took.

But he had to feel like he was winning. Getting one up over one me. Felt the needs to pull me off of my high horse and then toss the horse on top of me.

And poor fucking Picasso. When he had me take her to see the Tree those many fucking years ago... I didn't know it would do this to her. I didn't know he'd turn around and use her to try to fucking gut me!

And let me emphasize that this little game of ours has been a foot for YEARS. 2 years to indoctrinate Duckie. 10 years to test him. 4 of which I spent apart from Duckie after that asshole Loveless stole him out from under me and left me for fucking dead. And it wasn't after the full 12 years that he decided to pull this crap with Picasso. He saw Duckie's loyalty. He saw how hard I was working to get him back. He KNEW he was gonna lose. He probably put Loveless up to it, that poor sap.

No. It was 6 years into his career, 8 years after our game started, and 2 years after Duckie was ripped from me.2 years after I had recruited Picasso. 4 ENTIRE fucking years before he would have won or lost the bet, when he told me to take Picasso to see the Tree. 

6 years ago, he took her and warped her into the sick depraved thing  shes become as INSURANCE in case he lost. Pushed a pawn across the board and made a Queen as I moved in for checkmate.

Well the Motherfucker isn't the only one who can bend the rules. Nothing in our deal said he had to stay hollow and NOTHING in our fucking deal said I couldn't march him out to snap Picasso's neck.

I won FAIR AND SQUARE. And I'm not about to let Father flip the board on me.

We'll settle this game like good gentlemen do, as we always have.


  1. Hey, Fracture. Consider this an offer of favor, since I'd like to see you win.

    1. Thanks. That means a lot coming from a sage.