Blue Font

“Silly, you’ll find no rest while you’re at war with yourself.
Just make a decision and promise yourself you’ll stick with it in the morning.”
            -Sierra

Heeeeellllllllooooooo~

This is special designation ‘Firecracker’ reporting in on behalf of the lord of fire and feathers, Mr. Duck. I’ve also been known to respond to ‘Picasso’ and on the rare occasion ‘Fucking Maskless’.

Mr. Duck is apparently suffering from sleeping problems and can’t find time to post in between not sleeping and hunting and we are having a hard time finding Mr. Fracture so Mr. Duck said I get to file a report and so here I am. He gave me a few rules to follow. I’ll go ahead and lay those out to make this report seem longer than it actually is:

             1.      “Do not mention that we are looking for Fracture. I do not want him to be expecting the shovel

                     when he gets back.”

             2.     “Do not mention that I am having sleeping problems. Just tell them I am busy hunting.”

             3.      “Do not break rules 1 and 2.”

             4.      “Do not talk about yours or anyone else’s fighting style or abilities. Whenever you need to express

                     that you killed someone, just say you did. Fuck them if they want to know more, they can stalk me

                     in person for details.”

             5.      “Lie to them.”

             6.      “Make your own account. I don’t want you posting on mine.”

Hmm… looking back over those I already broke 4 out of 6 of his rules. Whoops. Oh well, it serves him right for throwing lit fucking firecrackers at me!

Pettiness aside, I think this is going really well. What else to talk about? Umm…

Oh! I killed a guy yesterday.
After we tracked down our list item, Trent scared him down an alleyway and I dove down on him from a fire escape. In hindsight, the joint trauma of falling on him and forcing a knife through the back of his ribs probably killed him on the spot. That didn’t stop me from screaming at and ripping into the corpse for ten minutes before I finally realized he was already dead.

After I got off of him I cut off his thumb and used it to draw operator symbols on the walls in his blood. My favorite symbol is the triangle with the uppercase ‘L’s attach to every edge. Once the body started to smell I figured I should probably get going so I called our cleaning guy, Trent, and told him to get to work. I could tell he was scowling at me from the other side of his mask. He hates it when I call him from five feet away to tell him to do things over the phone.

Then I helped Trent with his disposal duties and we headed back to New York to report to Mr. Duck and retire for the day.

On an exciting end note, I hear Mr. Duck is going to make Trent give the next report. I can’t wait to finally hear the mute’s opinions of us and his surroundings. Should be fascinating!

Laters!

Firecracker

There Ain’t No Hope for the Hapless

…Those fuckers die easily. I just slit their throats and split their ribs, then I feed them to the bleeding tree!

Did you know hapless means unfortunate or unlucky? Yeah, neither did I. I was pretty sure it meant unskilled or something down that line of thought. Although, they say you make your own luck. In that respect a hapless person is probably an unskilled.  I of course mean unskilled in the respect of someone being a weak piece of shit. Fuck semantics. Fucking words.

Enough rambling, who remembers Nemesis?
I’d be surprised if anyone does at this point. He was kind of a foot note I left hanging a few months back at the request of the assholes who give me my orders. I killed his pet runner or some such shit. I saw him the other day.

That went something like this:

I was walking down the hallway. We don’t get much traffic; it’s just the four of us here after all. I could hear footsteps behind me. They were too heavy to be Firecrackers or Fractures. (Fracture walks like a little girl.) At the same time, they were lighter than Trent’s footsteps. (Trent also likes to drag his knuckles against the nearest wall when he walks for some reason.) Whoever was behind me wasn’t supposed to be here, probably. I slowed down a bit and pretended something ahead on one of the walls had caught my attention.

After a brief moment of changing pace I heard the footsteps speed up to further gain on me. When they got really close an unfamiliar voice called out ‘Black Blood’. I was ready for him though. I side stepped a stab and then grabbed by attackers forearm and slammed it hard into the nearest wall forcing him to drop his knife. I then jerk my arm back hard elbowing the attacker in his fugly fucking face and finally turned my head just enough to see who the fuck it was. I recognized the piece of shit immediately. I never forget the ones I intentionally let live; those fuckers always seem to show back up one way or another.

Without letting so much as a moment pass as to not give up my own moment, I grabbed his forearm again and slammed it against the wall harder. I couldn’t help but grin as I heard something snap confirming that his primary hand had been ruined. Too dazed from the Elbowing and far too busy screaming like a girl to properly respond, I spun behind Nemesis and bashed him hard in the back of the head with the hilt of my now drawn knife as I pulled a leg out from under him with my own leg. Fuck face fell hard on his fucking face. It didn’t take Nemesis more than a few seconds to start crawling forward weakly. It seemed he didn’t have much left anymore. Pity, I was just getting started.

I looked forward curious as to what exactly that idiot was crawling toward. His knife had flown a little ways down the hall to the other side of a chair Trent likes to keep there by his door for some reason. Further down the hall I could see Fracture standing there and watching, most likely drawn out by all the screaming. I felt my grin grow a little wider. I don’t particularly care for an audience but I wanted him to see this.

“Still trying to get your little revenge?” I asked him as I started walking toward him.

“Y-YOU’LL FUCKING PAY FOR WHAT Y-YOU FUCKING DID TO JENNET!” he yelled and crawled more desperately slowly getting closer to that chair. I could see him swelling with hope. Maybe this wasn’t over yet. ‘Maybe he’ll be too cocky and I can turn this around on him,’ I could imagine him saying. ‘Just a little further yet.’

“Oh?” I asked as I leaned over and slit his back open up the length of the left side of his spinal column in one swift motion. The pain stopped him in his tracks and left him cringing. “Your pet’s name was Jennet? Adorable,” I said as I walked ahead of him and stopped in front of the chair turning to face him.

“BLACK BLOOD!” he yelled before he started crawling again, slower now. “Wh-Why i-isn’t that w-working?!” he whined pleadingly, the desperation finally starting to show in his voice.

“You must have been reading me all this time,” I said as I started walking toward him again. “Studying your pray. How Commendable. I guess you do actually know how to hunt,” I told him as I leaned over and slit his back open up the length of the right side of his spinal column, but much slower this time to drag out the pain and the screaming. “Pity you suck at your job.”

I looked up at Fracture to see how he was enjoying his show. So cold was his grimace as he stood there watching intently taking in every word and every action. I could see Firecracker running towards me from behind him. She looked quite focused like a hell bent bitch on a mission. I’m not sure if she was going to help me or put an end to my show. I never found out. Fracture close lined her when she tried to pass sending her hard on her ass. I took the opportunity to get back to work. Fuck face had started crawling again. I followed again, this time keeping pace to his side.

“You’re just going to bleed yourself out if you keep pushing yourself like that,” I teased him.

“NOT BEFORE I KILL YOU!” he yelled with renewed hope and vigor in a mildly impressive display. ‘Just maybe,’ he must of thought. ‘Just a little further.’

“Just a little further,” I whispered to him. “Almost. Come on. This is for her. Redemption is just ahead.”

Before too long he found himself just out of reach of the chair’s leg. Just a little further and maybe he could pull himself forward to his knife and just maybe there would be a chance of winning this fight yet.

“You know, I just might have let you live. But I’m afraid you broke rule 926.”

“Oh?” he asked with a weak and failed attempt to laugh. “Wh-What rule i-is th-that?”

“Don't ever piss me off,” I informed him as I pulled his head back by his hair and slit his throat and saw the last of his fire drain from his eyes, his wrath and his passion now my burden to carry.

“What a lame line.”

“Don’t fucking start with me. I’m not here to amuse you,” I growled and got to work cleaning and resharpening my blade as I headed for my room. “Clean up this fucking mess and double check your security measures. I don’t want anymore of this shit getting through. Trent, check on Firecracker. Oh, and give Fracture a good slug. He did that to her.”

And then I disappeared into my room.

Good bye Nemesis. I hope you rot in hell.
Oh, for the record, rule 926:
‘Keep no pets. They will die on you.’

It’s in the handbook.
Swan out.

Nothing

We’ll I was wrong, yesterday sucked.

We watched that door for hours but no one came out. I was beginning to think there may have been another way out and that the mark had slipped away on us. I had the great misfortune of being wrong. As the sun began to rise I decided I was done waiting and told Fracture to start for the motel while I deal with the mark. I got up there to find piles of canned foods. It looked like the mark had been here for a while and had no intention of going anywhere. That’s a pretty cocky move for someone living on someone else’s roof. And then I got a look at my sleeping mark and realized why he thought this was going to work out for him. He was about 9 years old.

The gravity of this took a good minute to sink into my brain properly.
How did a 9 year old get his hands on this much food?
How did he sneak it onto the roof of a hotel?
Why the hell was this mark assigned to me?

As far as I was concerned, this wasn’t happening. They could send someone else to take care of this. I already did the part of finding him. The next hunter would just have to come up and slit the little shit’s throat when I was good and gone. That’s what I kept telling myself as I pulled out my phone.

That’s what I kept mumbling as I looked down at my phone and realized my vision was starting to blur.
And then once more, the world went black…

When I came to my senses I found I was coated in blood. I was holding a… piece of the kid. I had mutilated him, but my knife was clean. I had carried out this gruesome scene with my bare hands. I was in complete disbelief. I had to close my eyes so I couldn’t see it or I was going to vomit.

This never should have happened.
Not like this. Not by me.
All I could think was that this was part of my punishment. The master must have made me do it because he knew it would hurt me. That’s why I’m alive right? So I can endure further punishment for my disobedience in my last life. So the monster I call master can teach me a lesion that I can carry to my grave.

Perhaps this is what I get for making rules for myself that I put above him. If I’m going to get through this, I’m going to need to be ready hurt more children.

It’s all very hypocritical of me anyways. I always justified the killing with the logic that no one life was worth more than another. Since I have already killed someone, I was being disrespectful to the dead if I wasn’t ready to kill absolutely everyone else. I never included kids in that everyone, but I guess I should have.

It’s got me thinking though.
What makes my life worth more than my victim’s since I keep surviving but they don’t?

Cuddles and Rainbows

Please ignore the title. My overseers are a little bit sore at me still and apparently one of them thought this was funny. My first instinct was to throw this machine at the wall. I actually did that. Can't see in the corner of the screen anymore.

It occurs to me that this is what they're looking for. Reasons to cut me lose. I'm trying not to give them but it's difficult. I'm calmer then I have been in two years but all I can think about is how much I want to break the doctors bones. I want to hear them snap. I slug him whenever hes stupid enough to make eye contact. I'm finding it hard to stop at a slug though. He's fortunate to have caught on. I need to stop hurting my help but he keeps pissing me off. I had friends once,... I couldn't have always been like this. Right?

The doctor deserves at least as much as I've given though. I'm almost certain.
All that aside I'm actually feeling pretty good. Stitches are holding and I can see properly again. I would be absolutely peachy if I could take down this stupid blog. I hate that this is seen. I promised I wouldn't try to scare off viewers anymore but I have a panic attack every time I see that I have more views. I dig my nails into my flesh every time I see a new comment.

I'm told this will help in the long run but I think they just want to see me destroy myself slowly.
They believe my mental break down was caused by my Anthropophobia. Its a fancy word. It means people are monsters and can't be trusted. I could see where they might think that's what caused it.

They gave me rules.
1. I must follow 6 blogs at any one time.
2. I must respond to any post I read reguardless of how inappropriate that might be.
3. I must post on this blog atleast once a week.
4. I must respond to any comment made on this blog reguardless of how inappropriate that might be.
5. No more profanity. This is also rule 6 though 10.

I'm told failure to obey will end in punishment.
I have no friends, possessions, or position. I would hope that means humiliating me further but I halfta assume that will get old. So if I piss them off enough they'll probably just off me. I hope the doctor gets to do it. He has to want to by now.