You're Okay to Leave it all Behind.

Great news everyone. Whispers back.

He was out on an away mission for a long, long time. We had him down in Black Lake working with Maggot and Jack to brainwash the populous and rewrite recent history. Specifically that the small town of Black Lake was swarmed with all manner of fear cults in a desperate effort by various fears to take over the town.

While much of the information surrounding the incident is still highly classified I feel its safe to disclose that the effort to cover up the incident has been highly successful. There is not a single survivor who can remember what they actually survived. As best they can remember it, those lost where consumed in a massive fire that nearly burnt the whole town to the ground. To complete that illusion, we set fire to every structure in Black Lake before these mind fucking efforts began to make the damage more consistent with the cover up.

With the cover up in full effect and the populous free once more to go about their shattered lives, a reconstruction effort as been started by the town to rebuild itself from the ground up. Seems before too terribly long Black Lake will be a real town again. Here is hoping it's still there next week...




So, with Whisper back we have everything we need to fix Picasso. I had her restrained by Helrick and Ivan and dragged off to the white room this morning. Shes currently tied down to the operating table with the strongest restraints money can buy. Something I've found to be incredibly necessary in past procedures. You'd be surprised just how stupid strong people get when they try to resist forcible mind fucking procedures. Its like putting someone on PCP. Their brain gives up all mental inhibitions in the struggle and as a result the body uses its full strength as it flails to try to get away.

We actually had a guy punch right through someones chest in a very early try run of this sort of thing. It wasn't pretty.

I can hear Picasso screaming profanities and begging to be let out right now. She must have just woke up.

"NO! I'm sorry, I'll be good. I'LL BE GOOD! I'll kill you QUICK! PLEASE! Not this, NOT THE WHITE ROOM. NOOOO. NOOOOOOOOOO"

Rather annoying.

We should really get started I guess.

We'll let you know how it goes.

The Lord Guardian Fracture Out.

Dani the Girl is...?

I think that's the right song. I'm looking at the last three entry titles and they seem to be the lyrics from a Red Hot Chili Peppers song.

No wait... my Ginger is informing me that those are lyrics from the song hes being making Jack listen too.

Guess that makes sense... sort of. Not sure why he would do that after he spent all that time bitching being forced to listen to music. Maybe its stuck in his head or something? Suppose that could also make sense.

I should introduce my Ginger.

Meet Jaivannelloxisomianthei'untimnyscious (Shorted for your benefit) O'Donnel

Sup. Just call me Ivan. Letters 3 through 6 of my name. Its easier that way.

Care to explain to people why the fuck your name is so messed up.

My Dad was a proxy. He had this weird ritual where he would add a letter to his name ever time he killed someone. Apparently until I was old enough to speak, he gave those letter me to and made that my legal name... somehow. Pretty sure they aren't supposed to let you do that but then again the Bureaucracy was a thing back then. He probably greased some palms or something.

Same man that kept you locked in basement and dumped you in the woods for a week to fend for yourself to prove your strength?

Yep... thanks for sharing that... asshole. I just gonna remove all that.

I'm just gonna put it back in when you leave the room.

Fuck you fuck face.

I missed you too.

So yeah. I've actually been back for a little while. Been taking a nice little mini vacation in my closet to get away from the world and catch up on my reading. 

I mean, I just helped save the world and shit... or 'a world' I guess. Regardless, I'd definitely earned my sabbatical. 

And along came Jack, the whiny and terrible.

Yep. Your pupil. I can't help but feel that you have to shoulder some of the blame there.

I abso-fucking-lutely disagree.

By the powers vested in me by my lord guardianness-

Your self proclaimed title.

... Yeah. I declare you overruled. Its your fault.

Classy.

So much class you can kiss my ass.

So yeah. Jack spoiled that. Not only did he tell Devil and Fire I was back, and they made me get back to work, but he fucking announced it to the world that I was available again and now I have to go do things.

You're such a whiny fucking slacker.

I'll take no sass from schzo.

The hello you won't.

The hell I won't what?

You said... uh...

Exactly.

Fuck you.

So right. Back. Should explain what Jack did after his last post and wrap this train wreck of an introduction up.

Apparently, following him using me as an distraction by announcing my return to the rest of the compound, he went and stole your iPod. 

Yep.

And then he had a mask open up a path door in front of where Maggot had dumped all his stuff in the path and threw the iPod in blaring 'Never Gonna give you up'.

A beautiful classic.

So while the denizen that had been sleeping on his stuff was busy being Rick Rolled and was out desperately trying to find and destroy your iPod, little jack grabbed all his shit and returned to the compound and had the path door sealed behind him.

Yep.

How do we know all this?

The little dumbass was bragging about it.

Hahahaha. Classic Jack.

Said the guy who has't been her to hand out with Jack for the last month.

Fuck you.

So to punish Jack for destroying my shit we've locked him in a room with 'Never Gonna give you up' playing over and over again and with Maggot in there to beat on him.

Harsh.

But well deserved.

Don't think you might be power tripping on this mentor things? No repressed Daddy issues coming out.

This is fucking over. Later fuck face, I have a ten year old to torture.

... Well okay then. Guess this is as good a way to announce my return as any.

I'm back. 

Lord Guardian Fracture out.

In which shit happens while I spend an entire month recounting the events of one week.

In which that is entirely David's fault.
I don't know why yet but if you give me an hour or so I can make something up.

In which reference.

In which I stop "in which"ing.

I think the title says it. I did not spend an entire month visiting Mother. I just spent all my blogging free time talking about it over the course of January. It just felt important I guess? So important I got really fucking wordy about it and map quested that shit out for anyone stupid enough to try to repeat the trip I made. Its just hard to differentiate between what is and is not important you know? It takes every step of a trip to form a journey, right?

Did you know question marks? Constant questions marks. Its how you win.

Quick disclaimer, those questions where rhetorical. Don't like, actually answer them in the comments.

So yeah. I've been up to other stuff all month.

Devil, 'the Fire', and I have been out on the ground floor with the Finest fucking with the loop Picasso, Moth, and Navi tried to escape into. It was real nice of them to corner themselves like that for us. Navi is right in that post I linked. First thing we did was alter the loop so they wouldn't remember the day prior when it reset. I have no idea why that didn't work on Moth. That's kind of weird. 

Once they where trapped doing the same thing over and over again, more or less, we started the process of taking the loop apart until all that remained was a 15 ft by 15 ft box. And just to make sure at no point of that process they could Path out of there to safety, we had the Finest jumping in and out of the Path to keep the denizens from wandering away from the area the loop was technically overlaying.

Once we had the loop down to just a room, we had 'The Fire' and the Finest's fire shaman flood the room with fire. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why loops where so secretive in their hay day. Because if you knew where one was anchored, you could stand just outside of it and fuck with it's residents.

You know, provided you had a Crafter.

But the important take away here is Picasso, Moth, and Navi are dead. 
'Wrath is Fathomless' is over. 
I win.

We're in the process of collecting Moth and Picasso's remains from the path now. We've already pulled Navi's charred corpse out of that loop.

Can you believe Navi was nursing an armed bomb in there? She never mentioned it on their blog, but she was. I get the sense she was gonna try to take as many of us with her as possible if we hadn't set the room a blaze. I guess I made the right call there not being merciful.

Blatant transition to something else.

So, when I wasn't out shooting the shit with my Finest and my crack team of shit Crafters, (and wasn't out in the Screaming Tower [Naturally {Annotation inception ///Holy shit, four layers///}]) I payed a visit to someone way out of my natural jurisdiction. Like, further out of it than I think most of you will inherently think to conceive.

Far way. Way, far way. In case any of you are too lazy to click the link, that someone is Alex from 'Eyes of Tomorrow'. I've paid a few visits to 'em now. My first trip out was to make sure the poor sap wasn't on a wild goose chase. I had a hunch Redlight might have been in Alex's head. After all, that's what happened to Alex's spouse, Sam/Nightscream.

After I confronted Alex with the theory, Alex let me have a peek inside it's noodle. Which was extremely painful for all parties involved. Oh what the neighbors must have thought to hear two grown adults screaming in the next room. But I was able to confirm Redlight wasn't in Alex's head so that almost makes the trauma worth it. Far less worth it than finding and killing Redlight but... nearly almost kind of worth it.

Hopefully I will never fucking have to do that shit again.

Seriously, fuck that.

So once the foreplay was out of the way, we got to talking. And all I can really say about our pillow talk is Alex needs some things for it's Redlight hunt so I'm helping it find said things. Like that 'book'.

I've dropped in on it once or twice since then, announced of course, to flirt incessantly and discuss our next step. Things I can't really go into detail on. There are far to many malcontents that read these blogs after all.

And that was my month. I visited Mother at her Screaming tower and got knifed in the gut over a sales pitch for a new show. I tortured Moth, Picasso, and Navi to death while I shot the shit with my close co-workers and underlings. And I lost my mental virginity to a unisex cyclops in a motel they didn't even pay for, we broke in, to find nothing but utter disappointment and pain.

January was a hell of a month.

Fracture out.

Live, from a Static Station Near You!

Announcer:
"Filmed live and on location from across the river Styx, deep in the Fields of Punishment, at the one and only Screaming Tower. Tonight we bring you Tower TV's hottest new show, 'Wooden Wails and Words', where your words will most certainly come back to bite you ensuring a wail of a good time for everyone else!

And here is your host, the crimson haired wooden beauty, the one and only, WOOODDDDEEEENN Girl!"

The crowd cheers, going absolutely wild. They were crying, their bodies torn and minced. Many of them were missing pieces. Some of those pieces seemed to have been poorly sown back on or replaced with a wooden part of some shape or variety. I could see one poor soul had had a foot sown to his wrist to replace a lost hand. It was the wrong color from the rest of his body. White, when he was clearly black. He stood out because he had a hard time clapping it and I think as a result of that he was clapping extra hard. Like he was afraid his claps weren't gonna make enough noise to satisfy his mistress.

He, like all of them, was in visible great pain, but still they fought against it to shout and cheer. For that was this rooms game. And by this point they've long since learned that losing only brings greater pain.

Wooden Girl:
"Thank you! Thank you! Oh, please. This is embarrassing."

She says a lot of things she doesn't mean implying she might want you to stop. But high above her sits an octagon. And on each side of it, it has directions. Like 'cheer'. And the game is Simon says from there. Regardless of what is said or what you hear, you do as the sign says.

She giggles and looks out at the crowd, spinning in the middle of the room and taking in the applause.

 "Come now, this is just too much. We have to start the show."

But still the sign reads cheer. Frantic desperate eyes jump back between her and the sign. They're tired and the mixed messages are almost more than most of them can process.

"Gosh, can't you control yourselves?" she laughs, her face cracking and her smile reshaping to reveal a big, bright, sadistic grin.

High above her the sign finally changes. 'Cheer Louder.'

The crowd panics, as they slowly becomes aware of their mistake. They were already giving it all their poor tattered bodies could give. The sounds in the room turned more frantic and violent as the crowd desperately tried to up the volume of their cheers, many of them standing. Others slamming their hands as hard as they could together trying to generate something louder than before.

"You call this devotion? Where is mommy's love? Don't you just /love/ me?"

'LOUDER'

The new order gave many pause. Anyone thrown off enough to stop was pulled violently under the stands by their strings. Desperate die hards with some fight left in them grabbed at their seats, screaming in agony.

Those who didn't falter started stomping their feet and positively screeching. It was all they could do to make themselves any louder. I had to cover my ears as the crowd approached deafening levels. I could make out Mother laughing over the crowd. She was loving every minute of this.

'Shut up and sit down'

Everyone grew quiet. Many of them breathing hard, but trying hard not to breath too loud. Anyone who had managed to hold onto their chairs long enough crawled back into them. A quiet sob could be heard across the room.  Loud enough, it seemed, to catch Mother's eye. She stopped and turned toward them. They didn't even see her. They had broken into an inconsolable fit of tears and sobs, curled up into their own lap.

Sobs turned to screams so quickly as she was slowly dragged under the stand, clawing and screeching at the top of her lungs. A brief break in screaming gave way to begging. "N-NO! I'M SORRY! I'LL BE QUIET! I'M QUIET! NOOOOO!"

But her begging would go unanswered. And from there it was just... just more screams the rest of the way down. Everyone around her had inched away, least they get grabbed and dragged down with her. The surviving audience shifted uncomfortably sniveling in their seats, terrified to make so much as a peep.

"Finally," she said in relief as if none of that had just happened. "I thought they'd never settle down," she said to the camera.

'Laugh'

And a quiet wave of uncomfortable laughter filled the room.

"Without further a do, lets introduce tonight's guest, Fracture!"

'Cheer'

I stepped out from the one spot in the room that didn't have any light being cast on it to reveal myself and after a brief moment the crowd worked itself up into another roar of cheers.

I waved my hands up, egging them on.

'Cheer less'

But almost as if directed to do the opposite they fell quieter and less enthusiastic as if unimpressed once they had actually seen me.

'Scowl and stare at. Whisper maybe?'

And they fell quiet. Staring at me. Scoffing. Groans. One or two of them cleared their throats. I could hear some whispering and murmurs.

"That's not nice..." I commented spinning around to look at everyone before dropping into my seat.

"Guess we can't all be winners can we?" she giggled, trying to slick her still motionless hair back before all of her joints suddenly gave out and she fell limp into her chair like a doll tossed aside when it was done being used. After a moment of not moving or saying anything at all, as if someone had started playing with the doll again out of the blue, she sat straight up like a person and looked at me. Her eyes locking on mine.

"So, first time on the show. That's a lot of pressure. How are you holding up over there, child?"

"I got to say, Mother, I'm feeling pretty good. This may be my first time on 'Wooden Wails and Words' but I saw a lot of screen time on your last talk show, 'Wired for Words'."

"My I had almost forgotten about that old show. I think you were one of only ten guests to survive on it. What a grand honor."

"Well as I understand it, it had ten episodes, only aired when I visited, and I was the only guest on very episode. So yeah. Great honor. In fact, it was quite possibly the greatest."

"Aww, honey child. Is that sass?"

"No Mother. I loved having my very own show dedicated to me."

"Aww, child. If you keep answering so well, how am I ever to find cause to harvest that beautiful tongue of yours."

"You'll never know and I'll never tell," we both said at the same time. An old catch phrase. She loved running gags.

"On where do the years go? It feels like just yesterday you were this tall and scared to death I was gonna rip your stomach open and coat myself in your entrails."

"Oh Mother I... am still very much afraid that."

"Aww. Baby," she says said putting her hands up against her static grin. "If only I could make you short again. Hmmm.... do you really need your knees and shins?"

"Uh, yeah. Very much so," I said hugging my legs.

She squeed at what I assume was me being awkward and adorable. I let my legs back down. Now was not the time to start acting like a terrified child.

"Stop it."

"Oh you. Is wittle fwanky getting shy?"

"Fuck you."

"Oh the profanity too. I've missed this. Don't you like being called Franky? Didn't you pick that name?"

"No. I took the name Frank Tanner. Not Franky. There s no 'Y' in it. No 'E' sound."

"Oh my how you took it though. That poor doctor. He lost his job, he lost his family, and he lost his home. And then you went and took his name. Have you no shame, Franky?"

"Are we doing the rhyming thing now?"

"Surely you've nothing to gain, beyond inflicting agony and pain, by taking another man's name."

I groaned. Rubbed my temple. I hated this little game of hers.

"I just don't understand Franky, what was wrong with your old name? That cute little title you had given yourself when I first met you was adorable."

"Well as it turned out, 'the Fractured Guardian' is shit name. And it didn't hold up when I stopped living in a barren fucking wasteland and had to deal with real people."

"Aww. It was not. I don't understand why you ever gave it up. You were /so/ proud of it. Run the clip."

The lights dimmed and a screen in the back of the room lit up. It started playing an old home movie. Best I could tell, it was from Mother's perspective. Which is odd, because I know she didn't have a camera then... I theorize she may be able to project memories as film. And alter them too. Let me tell you, I know for a definitive fact that I didn't have a labcoat and a cowboy hat back then. My fabulous fashion sense didn't get to blossom until much later in life.

"Why hell there tiny person. Why are you so small."

"... I'm not small..." I commented looking back at the door and at my surroundings. I was clearly terrified. Particularly of the string. A mass of it wiggled at me and I backed up hard against the wall to get away from it. That string had already taken so much from me.

 "Don't be stupid. You're like a tiny life size doll. What is your name? Is it Liar? Please let it be Liar. That would be perfect beyond all reason."

I was a defiant little shit. I was in a room, covered in guts and blood, standing before a living breathing talking doll and I somehow found my nerve. I glared hard at her, stepped out from the wall into the middle of the hall, puffed out my chest as much as I could with my hands to my sides and announced, "I'm the Fractured Guardian. You're gonna stop hurting people now!"

Mother fell silent for a moment. Stunned. And then the sound of constant cracking could be heard. My young self had a visible flinch with every crack of what I must assume was her face shifting to adopt a big grin. 

"Oh my wooden me, you are THE most precious thing I have ever seen. I'm keeping you."

And then the screen went black and the lights turned back on as strings struck out at me.

"Just how could you ever give that up?"

"Are we still talking about my name or is this suddenly about when I left."

"Yes."

"Classy. We both know why I left. You're a scary monster."

"That's Mother Monster to you, brat."

"I know, /Mother/. You're not my Master. I had to get back to Father."

"You should have just signed up with me. We would have made such wonderful things together. I wouldn't have even discarded you when you broke. You would have gotten a glass case. /The/ highest imaginable honor. You'll be lucky if anyone can be bothered to bury you now."

"Yes, yes. I... really missed out there. Clearly, becoming a doctor and saving lives is a fruitless effort. I should have just let you use me like a rag doll and then let you shove me into a glass case when I stopped being fun. I was so blind."

"We'll don't try going back on it now. That ship has sailed.  And then I sunk that ship and lit the sea on fire so you can just go fuck yourself."

"I'll just have to try to find some way to cope."

"More fruitless efforts. Its like you never tire of them. We've strayed from topic. I believe you were about to tell me why you were stealing training methods from other Fears to form your cute little sub-cults."

"That... is not what we were talking about... its also not true."

"Really now? Your Fire Cult isn't a collection of rage cases being taught to worship your Father in an effort to divert would be Crimson Knights from falling under the sway of the ever Dormant Brute as preventative measures to keep the Brute under lock and key?"

"... No?"

"And your Mask Cult isn't a reapplication of some of the methods used here in this very tower to condition and create 'Chosen', my will less loyal lackeys? "

"I'm sorry Mother. I need you to speak up. I can't hear you over the sound of how incredibly butt hurt you are."

A string from above me slung around my neck and lifted me off the ground choking me while Mother pulled out a phone from someone in the crowd. Another string got out my own phone and put it to my ear as Mother dialed, stomping at me in a huff. I heard one ring go off beside my head before the string pressed the button, answering for me. About an inch from my face, Mother screamed into phone.

"CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?!"

"Y-Yes..." I forced out between wheezes.

And just like that, the string around my neck undid itself and I fell hard to the floor, followed by my phone.

"Fuck."

"Why are you here Fracture? What the fuck do you want?"

"I had an idea for a little show and I though you would be perfect for the lead role, director, and writer."

I looked up at the sound of cracks. Her glare had turned into something far more inquiring.

"Go on."

"So here is the deal."

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

CENSORED

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

"Hmm... it shows promise. With my guidance, it could be a master piece."

"Does that mean you're in?"

"One condition."

"Uh, sure. Shoot."

"I'll want a hug."

"I swear to god if you-"

"Oh come now Fwanky. Do you think I would ruin this beautiful Mother and Son bonding moment?"

"... Fine."

So I opened my arms and we hugged... and I wheezed and groaned and then coughed up blood.

She had stabbed one of her wooden hands deep into my gut.

"...A-Again...?" 

"Dumbass," she said letting go of me and letting me drop hard on the floor.

"Have fun walking home! Oh, and be back bright and early. I want to start on this immediately!"

I hacked up some more blood and pulled out my medical kit. "S-Sure... thing," I called after her.

I had a long trip home ahead of me.

But as you can see I made it. Yay me... fuck my life.

The Lord Guardian Fracture, out.

The Screaming Tower (of Flesh)

So, I've explained some of the hard details of my trip. The expository stuff. The whole map quest review.

All that stuff is kind of important for context here. More or less, at least. I didn't want it interrupting my explanation of the trip itself. There was a lot of exposition after all. Sometimes its best to just rip off the band-aid and be done with the hard part. That way you have more time for the fun stuff.

That way there's nothing there to interrupt the flow events that didn't have to be there.

Like this opener. Its entirely unnecessary. Its the kind of thing a high school brat might add to the beginning or end of an essay to make it longer if he hadn't reached a mandatory word count. The kind of thing a crazy old proxy might apply to his blog post because he felt the post was too short and preferred that the post look long so he could feel good about himself. Like he had accomplished something more than just pointlessly rambling about the more interesting parts of his life to a cold unfeeling computer in an effort to distract himself from his inescapable fate of killing or destroying every kid hes ever saved.

... Just... trying to feeling like I'm making a difference for once... 









I mentioned in the last post, that this door is hard to find if you've never seen it before, if you've never been. Well this is far from my first run in with that fucking door. My first trip very nearly killed me... but in hindsight that isn't surprising. This is no world for children, after all. You get what you get when you follow tall faceless strangers into even stranger places.

Being the expert I am now, I know the trick. At least the trick for us lowly mere mortals. 

There is a spot you can stand in the real world that correlates perfectly with the door. If you should path in from this spot, you will find yourself within a few steps of the door. If you do it exactly right, within one step. You can't get any closer. I've tried. Once in, you always have to take that last step. (Look at all that exposition I still had in me? Isn't that fucking great? Doesn't it do wonderful fucking things to my story?)

Now I've got this down pretty good. I know exactly where to stand in relation to the rock so I'll just about always land a step way away.

A step is no where near close enough.

The fuckers guarding it are fast. Its like they know you're coming. They probably do.

So I appeared where I always do when I do this, one step away. My surroundings are immediately engulfed in an ear shattering screech coming from the denizens guarding the fucking thing. As I mentioned in the last post, the one with with spider legs almost ran me threw with its fucking horn. I appeared just behind it and it near instantly threw itself on its back trying to get at me. Stupid thing. I side stepped it and the tendril another one had swung at me. I saw the two forces collide with each other before they realized their mistake. Then I ran through the door before any of the other denizens watching the spot could get involved.

Once on the other side I couldn't dally.

"One, two, three, four, five," I counted, immediately running ahead from the spot I had landed at. I knew I was safe five paces away from the tree. I can't be asked to risk less than that. Not when I know five is safe.

I turned a moment to make sure I had the spot memorized. Looked up and tried to count the number of floors up you had to be to get to the first windows that were higher than the tree. Ten stories, I figured. Seemed right....

The rest of the trip was easy. The patch work vultures outside usually don't bother you... no she'd much rather you made it inside so she could play with you in the same place where she keeps all her other toys. More toys equals more fun after all. Always... so she tells me.

I looked up at the endless spire a moment before stepping in.

I marveled at the solid cylinder of living, likely screaming, flesh that stood before me. I've been told I'm wrong about that before. That its made of stone, not flesh. Simply coated in flesh from her victims. 

Not what I see. I see an impossibly tall tower of living, possibly breathing, moving tissue... the strings and vultures bring her broken toys screaming up high to where I can't see them... to where I eventually can't hear them. At first I thought they were dying up there but now I'm pretty sure they're just being dragged so high that the sound isn't carrying to me at the bottom.

It sickens me to think that what I'm seeing isn't an obscene work of art... but a work in progress...

"Higher than Olympus," she once told me.

"Higher than the sky," I retorted.

She giggled, paused a moment, and then turned to me. "That's not the important part."

Priorities... I suppose.

But I'm sure that bit of dialog will read funny and only serve to confuse you, the reader. Ignore it. Its just me reminiscing about past visits and old conversations.

As far as we are concerned with this story, I'm still just looking up at the impossibly tall tower of living flesh.

So lets stop that.

I heaved a heavy sigh. I hate this part... the actual visit... her.

I threw the door open. She was waiting for me. She pretends she wasn't. She was. She always is. 
Like I'm supposed to believe she was just standing on the other side of the door on the first floor of her massive tower with her back to the entrance and looking at the ceiling on a whim. Because somehow that was just the place to be and that tile on the ceiling there was just the coolest thing ever for that moment right before I entered.

She suddenly turned. Her face went from a plain expression to one of joy in an instant, causing a gross amount of noise as her wooden face cracked, reformed, and then cracked over and over again, maybe 100 times in that moment, to distort and shift her carved features until they resembled a bright happy smile.

"Oh Baby!" she declared. If I didn't already know it was an act, I just might have thought she was genuinely surprised I had dropped in. But she wasn't. Nothing more than theatrics...

"Hello Mother," I replied with a grown. I knew what was coming next.

"If I had know you were coming, I would have done something with my hair!"

"I'm not gonna say it."

Her frown... no, not frown. Her death glare came fast. The cracks in her face to shift her expression happened even quicker than before, adding a violent and more agressive undertone to change. 

"Say it, or else."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Must we do this every time?"

"SAY. IT."

I could practically feel the strings brushing my shoulders as they dropped down from the ceiling above and swayed back and forth behind me. My last warning... a final threat.

"... What hair."

Her expression snapped and cracked until it resembled someone being shy. She held her limb up and put her hand to her hair and gave the smooth unmoving surface that was her hair a stroke.

"Why, this hair silly," she remarked with a giggle. I could hear yelling and begging starting to get louder behind her. I watched as two strings dragged a masked proxy into the room kicking and screaming. I often wonder if its actually a proxy or if she just puts masks on them when I visit to fuck with me.

She just stood there, her face slowly cracking from surprised to a bright shit eating grin as the yells and pleading got louder and louder. Once the poor proxy was right behind her, the strings pulled up, first lifting him forcibly to his feet, and then up in the air where they would keep him dangling leaving him to struggle and scream in place as the thin strings dug into his wrists.

"Just give me a minute, I'll fix it right now," she said joyfully as the two strings that were at my back went around us and wrapped to the poor proxies ankles before slowly lifting him up, starting a whole new wave of screaming from him as he was slowly positioned over Mother's head.

The last set of strings came in from god knows where, and each one attached themselves to the poor proxy's belly button coming in from either side. His screams reached a while new decibel, turning into screeches of pure agony, as the strings on his belly button started pulling all at once... ripping his gut open... pour his insides out on the floor behind her.

Then slowly, the body of that poor fuck was lowered down til it sat on the back of her head like a crown... the giggling started again as the strings started violently rotating the corpse back and forth on top of her head until the hole in his gut was forcibly made big enough against the back of her scalp to engulf her hair. Once she was satisfied, the corpse was raised off of her once more and then dropped on top of the pile of guts...

She ran her hand back down her newly dyed crimson red hair.

"That's better," she said tilting her head, cracking her grin wider, and quietly staring, waiting for a response from her captive audience.

Because that's what she wants. Its the whole reason behind everything she does. Its in her very nature. She is an object of entertainment. And the whole purpose behind all forms of entertainment... is to get a response. Any response.

She just... can't help it.

But I know better than to deny her of her prize.

So I did what I always do. I laughed. It was funny. Had to be. I needed it to be... can't let her hear you scream, least you find she likes your sound.

"You hardly need to dress up for me. You always look good, Mother."

"Aww, aren't you just an absolute DOLL, baby," she responded with a chuckle, unable to stop herself from laughing at her own joke. "What can mommy to do sweet'ems today?"

I cringed, which was a mistake. Its only gonna encourage her to spew out more pet names.

"I have an interesting project in mind. Something I would need you for. Something I thought you might actually find to be really fun. Its right up your alley. The perfect part. A role you were born to play!"

"Ooooohhh~?" she asked, sounding excited.

"That's right," I said pulling out a thick folder full of papers. "Here's the detailed proposal."

Her face dropped in a sudden violent motion with a noisy cluster of cracking noises. "That looks boooorrrring... can you explain it in say... an interview?!" she asked immediately perking up in excitement over her own suggestion.

"Yeah... sure," I said putting the folder of blank pages away. I already knew what her response was gonna be anyways so I didn't bother actually writing anything. "Lets get to it. I want to be on TV!" I responded sounding, hopefully, exited.

And off we marched, up the tower to the set she had already made for the show she wished to interview me on.

"Hey, Franky," she said watching me as we made our way up her tower, "What's with the fishing pole? Gonna put on a show with me?" she giggled, amused by the very notion.

"Nope. Its for something else entirely. You should watch when I use it though. I think you'll get a real kick out it."

"Ohhhh~, sounds fun," she remarked before resuming her task of creepily staring at me in silence with her unmoving face as we made our way to the set.

More to come.
The Lord Guardian Fracture out.

Screams and Things on Endless Strings

So I've been to the tower, something any of you who watch static likely already know. For those of you who don't or can't, that means you didn't see the interview so I'll post that on here later. Not a video of it mind you. Just a transcript. The last thing I need is that bitch somehow taking over the blog because I was dumb enough to put her image up on it.

That would suck.

I see Ji-Je-Jack's little rant earned him a cute little two man following. Nothing quite like capturing the eye of a cabal of cow pun enthusiasts. That was certainly something... special... I guess.

He didn't seem to enthused by the response it earned though, so I don't know if we're gonna get another one of those out of him. We'll just have to see.

But enough about Jack. I'm sure you're more curious about how the trip to see Mother went. Well allow me to elaborate on that with a painfully long cut away explaining far more than you likely actually care to know.

The trip to see her is rough. I only know of one connecting path between the Path of Black Leaves and the Screaming Tower and its typically surrounded by particularly warped denizens. I cannot say who the denizens serve. Denizens are Father's by their very nature but some of the ones that watch this location have strings hanging off them. Some of them have patches of cloth sown over parts of their body that lack skin. Some of them have limbs missing with wooden replacements where those limbs should be. That whole little area features awkward hybrids of elements from Frather's realm and Hers.

I think the most notable of these awkward element blends is the 'door' itself. In this little spot, consisting of two trees surrounded by these extra grotesque denizens, is a single bright red string. This string starts on one branch of one tree and travels from the trunk, up the branch, to a point where that branch intersects with a branch from the other tree, and then travels down this second branch to the trunk of the second tree.

If you walk under the arch this string travels between the two trees, you will find yourself standing before the grand spectacle that is the Screaming Tower. Now you need to stop here and turn around and examine your surroundings to make sure you can find this spot again.

This location is harder to find on her end. When you turn, you'll find yourself in front of a small tree. This tree will be the home to many vultures and to many dolls whose strings are tried to the tree's branches. The dolls will likely be screaming in agony, like most of the poor souls that get hung outside of the tower as living decorations.

This sounds like a notable location but its really not. Its painfully similar to anything else that exists just outside the screaming tower. Being a roost for Patchwork Vultures and a hanging place for dolls is about the norm outside. What makes this tree special is the leaves. This tree, has black leaves. And when you notice them, and not a second before, they'll start to fall. They'll endlessly drop from the branches and disappear right before they hit the ground.

Those leaves are your exit from this place. If you catch one before it can disappear, you'll find yourself /somewhere/ in the path. As best that I can, I've never used this exit and arrived in the same place twice. I'm not sure why. Then again, I don't see why I should see that as odd when all of this is kind of fucking crazy.

Now a word of caution to anyone stupid enough to want to try this, clear your schedule. It is nothing short of impossible to find two specific trees in the Path of Black Leaves if you don't already know where to look. And getting past the Denizens isn't exactly a picnic either. I was nearly impaled by the horned one with the spider legs. God help you if the one with hooves and that fucking tentacle arm get you. Its taken to ripping off limbs and beating that limb's previous owner to death with said limb.

Its not a pretty sight... I don't take others with me on this trip anymore.

Getting to the Path from the Tower isn't any easier. The Dolls and Vultures that watch the tree do virtually everything in their power to make sure you can't catch a leaf. Vultures catch leaves and claw at your flesh. Dolls grab at you. The higher ones that can't reach you grab at and swat leaves in a effort to keep them away from you. Its a ridiculous fucking mess.

I actually tried to fish a leaf out discretely when I left this time using a fishing pole from higher up on the tower. I was pulled down by the line by one of the dolls. I was fortunate enough to have managed to to catch a leaf as I was falling before I hit the ground. When I was sent to the path, all that downward momentum shifted sideways. I was literally flung back into the path as a result. I landed pretty hard on my face. Thankfully, I skid across ash, dust, and fucking wood so I was mostly fine.

As an aside, I discovered something interesting about the vultures that guard the leaves on my way to the tower this time. I couldn't check many of them because they were attacking me, but I noticed each one had a black leaf sown into their patch work design somewhere. Its small and subtle, but its interesting to note that the creatures watching the tree on Mother's ended are being corrupted by Father's influence like the denizen that watch the door on Father's end are being corrupted by Mother. It makes me wonder if there is anything off about the Dolls hanging on the tree there.

One last important note about the location guardians. It doesn't matter if you're a proxy, a hollow, a chosen, or a willing Doll. These corrupted monstrosities attack on sight. As best I can tell, there are no exceptions.

So... that was how the trip went. I had to deal with all that bullshit.

We'll get into the transcript and any tedious information I can divulge about my actual stay next time.

For now,
the Lord Guardian Fracture is out. (I'm off to ice my ears.)

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.

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.

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.

Bounty Bomb

Ladies and gentlemen, Proxies and Runners, Assholes and other Assholes,
welcome to another wondrous random update from the Free Market from yours never, Fracture!

First up, as the title implies, I've done a few things to the Bounty Board.
Aside from a few, *ahem*, grammatical and spelling issues that I naturally had nothing to do with, I've uncrossed out Picasso's name. Turns out shes no longer dead and apparently never was, as impossible as that may seem after re-re-re-reviewing the footage of her bleeding to death in Moth's arms. I put off putting her back on the list for a long time but after a confirmed sighting from one of my own, it's similarly impossible to ignore that fact that she is alive.

Second up on the same front, Nightscream's bounty now reads that you will receive '$25,000' upon killing and presenting it's corpse as opposed to '25,000'. Apparently, this was an intentional oversight by the Oathbreakers when they submitted their offer to us to be put on the board. I suspect they were gonna stab who ever claimed the bounty 25,000 times as payment. You have my personal guarantee that you will receive money, not Death, should you successfully claim this bounty.

Last up on board changes, we have Arkady Svidrigailov. Hes a brand new bounty worth a whopping $100,000. He has been terrorizing Truth's Division and is wanted for the deaths of more than a dozen proxies, several runners, and numerous collateral civilians deaths. Hes threatened to burn the city he is in to the ground in order to purify it of all proxy influences and I have no doubt in my mind that the crazy son of a bitch would. Proceed with extreme caution.

Someone please bring the bastard down.

The Lord Guardian Fracture, out!

My Little David: Rape is Magic II

Cupcake Edition. ^-^

Its funny. Trust me.

Now let me clarify something before I share the following. While I have nothing against David Banks personally, his abandonment of service and what he is capable of makes him a very dangerous person and as long as he continues to stand as a force apart from Father he is to be considered too dangerous to be left alive. Having said that I share the following in light of the fact that it may scare off proxies that may have been considering going after David themselves to try to collect on his high bounty. I share this in spite of that because you need to know how dangerous a task this is. David may very well kill you should you fail... if you're lucky.

Four nights ago a recovery team responded to a distress call. The caller was hysterical and was babbling incessantly.

Legolas
[The Proxy in Distress. Apparently an Elf from middle earth.]

"Fuck man, come help me. Please god come help me. He killed them all. Hes g-got a cleaver! C-Come help me now!"

*Screaming. 'We're All in This Together' from High school Musical can be heard playing in the background in a moment of silence following the scream*

"C-C-Cu-... H-He c-cut off my fu-"

*More screams. "...make our dreams come true...!"*

David
"The poor thing fainted. You should come pick him. He doesn't look well."

*Hang Up Noise*

When they arrived they made a cautious sweep of the house and found the bodies of three proxies in the basement and one barely still living proxy, apparently Legolas, tied to a chair.

All of the bodies where unrecognizable. 
Beyond the cuts, gashes, puncture wounds, missing teeth, burn marks, and bruises/tears that stand as a clear indicator of violent rape that all three corpses shared, two of the bodies had large sections of their skin removed.

Given the intact nature of the internal organs and the excessive amount of blood soaking the floor, it would appear all three of the murdered victims met their death in blood loss when David was done with them.

Based on what we were able to get out of Legolas once he finally calmed down and agreed to talk with us about what happened,  he was tied down and made to watch David slowly torture, rape, and kill his friends one at a time.

"Wh-When he was finished with... wh-when they f-f-finally stopped screaming and st-struggling... he'd sk-skin them. F-F-F-Fucking cook and feed them to us. Starve us out... t-taunted us when we f-finally..." he stammered out and then started vomiting and crying.

While Legolas himself was not tortured, beyond having to watch his friends die at least, he did not make it out Scott free. David removed Legalos' right leg from just above his knee down, which is what we heard happening over the phone.

Legolas is currently taking residence in the Free Market HQ and will be recieving bi-weekly therapy and weekly physical therapy lessons until such a time that I am satisfied that he has become 'well' again.

To those of you out there still looking to collect on David's Bounty, Father help you.

I wish you a quick death.

The Lord Guardian Fracture, out!

Hopeless

"Why should anyone fear the Sages? They're worthless fucking broken symbols if you ask me. Come at me bitch!"

-Duckie

It's funny to see runners making a comeback on the blogs. For a little while there it was almost like they had all gone extinct. And just as odd a phenomenon as the sudden emergence of runners, we also have a sudden decline in proxy activity.

And what of the Sages? Nick, Shaun, Hakurei Ryuu. They're just all gone suddenly, you know?

It leaves these new runners in an bad place. They've no semblance of leadership to guide them and no marker of hope to feed them lies about how it's all gonna turn out alright. To convince them that there is hope and that there is a chance everyone can make it out of this okay.

But then, something caught my eye. Suddenly, there was a beacon of light in the distance. Could it be... a new hope?

I found myself curious and I couldn't help myself, so I chased that sliver of light and clenched my fist tight ready for a worthy fight to find... this.

This Baby Feral Rake Sage-ish... thing... calling itself 'Med' of all things. Truly an inspired name, truly.

THIS, is apparently the new Sage. THIS, is supposed to be the beacon for a new wave of hope and thoughtless optimism. 

Hahaha... HAHAHAHAHAHAHA... oh god, that's good.

You're all fucked.

Sincerely,

The Lord Guardian Fracture

Would the Real Morningstar Please Stand Up?

Seems we're gonna have a problem here...

Fracture here reporting a rather surprising Undeath. The Morningstar lives.

[You know if feels silly that other people use my account so often that I have to announce when its actually me blogging on my own account on my own blog? Suppose that's my own fault but its silly nonetheless.] 

I personally find this to be a very disturbing upset. Not that I'm not happy that he's somehow still alive. The man is as Iconic as they come and a beacon of hope, and depravity/cannibalism, among the less sane of proxy kind. But when the last one died I went through A LOT of trouble to find his body and steal the head and I kept it buried in a pot of soil just so something like this wouldn't happen again.

Why were the Celts never right about anything because that whole process clearly does fuck all? I mean, sure it could be an impostor. That's kind of a huge risk associated with blogging. But the post has so much of that genuine Morningstar... I want to call Flair. 

That 'ummph' that you just can't fake.

I can only assume Redlight made another one. I've been trying stay out of the Stopsign's affairs but... Iblistar could make an another appearance and he is a very real threat to proxy kind.

I'll not sit Idly by to see if the shark takes the bait, I'm getting my harpoon.

Ever Insincere,
The Lord Guardian Fracture.

Daywhisper

Sloth here... I have this... Bounty Hunter update... thing to do I guess?

Bad news for anyone hunting after Mrs. Picasso,... shes dead. Apparently.
Despite what the traitor Moth has reported, an eye witness account from the sniper we hired to take Picasso out (and confiscated security footage of the scene) has all but confirmed that Picasso bled out from her shoulder wound over the course of her attempted escape.

That is to say: We hired a sniper, they shot her, she run, and promptly bled out.
The amount of blood lose she suffered was more than fatal.

Unfortunately enough for our Sniper, Moth took off with Picasso's corpse and it has yet to be found. The shooter is thus currently unable to claim their reward for the bounty. However, Moth would have had few places to stash Picasso's body and little reason to keep it. We anticipate its recovery soon.


That news comes as kind of a bummer if you ask me. I liked Picasso. She was... a real day brighter and stuff. So full of energy. She was like... black coffee you know? Hot, bitter beyond reason, and sure to snap you awake.


But when one door closes a window opens... something like that. We have a new bounty.

Introducing, Nightscream of Whispers in the Dark. I understand he/she's like... special or something... apparently because we didn't put this hit out on him/her. We are simply hosting it for a fee on behalf of our distant cousins, the Oath Breakers. Intelligence reports of Nightscream's whereabouts/status tell us he/she's injured and easy pickings. Those reports also tell us hes/shes under the protective care of David Banks making his/her bounty several times more dangerous to try to claim.

That guys scary.

That said, Nightscream's worth a whopping $25,000.

As an additional bonus, whoever claims the bounty on Nightscream will also receive a favor from the Oath Breakers themselves... Not sure what exactly the favor could be used for but it never hurts to garner favor.

And I guess that's... everything for now. Happy hunting... I guess.


Signed Sloth,
Emissary of the Lord Guardian Fracture.

Curse Your Sudden but Inevitable Betrayal

I'm afraid nothing looks good from here. Not anymore.


This is a notice addressing those associated with the Free Market and operating within the confines of the New York Division. To a much lesser extent, this notice is also addressing associates of the Free Market in a more global sense as the far reaching ramifications of these events are yet unknown.

As previously reported in my personal operations blog, there was an incident just outside of Austin, Texas shortly after midnight. Someone aided the escape of Picasso and Moth and slaughtered 8 hollows and 2 agents in the process. 

There is, however, no more need to wonder about who helped them escape. An ungrateful party among those rescued let the cat out of the bag.

It was 'Nee-chan' and 'Theta', foot soldiers of what remains of the New York Division of the Bureaucracy and by extension we must assume responsibility for their actions falls upon their handler, Tempest, or the mad man behind the curtain, Justice.

Were the NYD's actions justified? 

I will admit the NYD expressed great disdain over the services we were providing within the NYD's territory when they first realized the Free Market's influence had spread to them. But you have to understand, we thought the Bureaucracy was dead. I was both thrilled and horrified to find Father's little Angel of Death had left entire cells alive and operational. Untouched even. So I negotiated a little exchange of information with Tempest to ensure they would know of my dealings within their region in case any of them proved pertinent and so I could know of their field operations to avoid any nasty little mishaps like sending two agents to deal with one threat.

I also understand they were rather cross about me bringing David's status to light. How was I to know they had no idea David had gone rogue? You think they might have noticed that. So I once again apologized and offered to let them sit in on my next meeting with David. Tempest politely declined my invitation to spend the afternoon with a rapist.

And maybe, just maybe, all this has something to do with my personal request to have a camera observe TE-119H on the extremely off chance that she might some day wake up out of my own personal silent hope that the data collected from that process might give us the insight we need to help reawaken other hollows.

But I can't imagine that has anything to do with his. I mean, after I brought the question before Justice and he declined, he informed me that if I wanted to be trusted I would need to show some respect and back off. And I did and I can't imagine for a second that this is JUSTICE'S way of showing me mutual TRUST and RESPECT after I so kindly backed down.

So once more, were the NYD's actions Justified?

As Picasso likes to say:

NO, NO! FUCK NO! NEVER EVER EVER, NO! GO FUCK YOURSELF WITH A TREE TRUNK AND DIE!


So to those of you who have become dependent on the Free Market and are unfortunate enough to be operating within the NYD's influence, I urge you to move. Should you find yourself unable or otherwise unwilling to do so and insist on continuing your operation where you are, I feel for you and regret the potential harm your association with the Free Market may be bringing down on you. In light of this, such brave souls will be receiving a slight monetary bonus for assignments completed in the NYD's region until these hostilities can be sorted.

For everyone else associated with the Free Market, I issue caution. While the NYD's influence covers only a small chunk of the USA, they attacked us in Texas. That's a good seven states away from home for them and as this attack came with no threats, demands, or warning, there is no way to know what they may be planning. You are all at risk.

That said, both Justice and I are incredibly reasonable and sane adults who are more than capable of sorting this out without the need for further bloodshed. I once again apologize to all of you and I promise this whole conflict will be put to rest, shortly.

Fracture out.