Hollow's Giving

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

The moon is beautiful.

Hehehe. 

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

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

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

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

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

Fanciful beautiful stories. All of them bullshit.

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

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

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

The Lord Guardian Fracture, out.

New York Round Up

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Going back to what, little one?"

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

"Well? Spit it out."

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

"What can you remember exactly, boy?"

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

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

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

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

"Back to what?"

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

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

".... He said to wait."

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

"I-I don't know."

"And you're sure he said that?"

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

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

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

"Duckie, to my side please."

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

"Wh-What did you do to him!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Close enough I guess."

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

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

"My... name?"

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

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

"Jack."

"Wh-What?"

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

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

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

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

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

The Lord Guardian Fracture out.

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.

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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.

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Come back to me brother.

Devil out.