Or so I've been hearing lately.
Its that shithead's go to line...
Foreshadowing.
Lets scale back a bit. Ease into it. Lube up. Foreplay. All that jazz. Then we'll jump in again once everyone's ready.
Assuming that last sentence wasn't creepy enough to scary you off, that is. He'd probably prefer you not read this anyways. He hated blogs... hated blogging... hated bloggers.
He was just an all around shit head really.
Scaling back.
So, Whisper is finally doing better. Hes finally found his voice again and we've resumed hollowing and storing death marked runners. That is still an unfortunate necessity of my job. But its better than dying. I have to believe that.
Whisper tends to agree with me on the topic but I think he just likes feeling self important. The whole hollowing operations depends on him. If we tried to hand someone death marked over to Father to be hollowed he'd just kill them. That Motherfucker is so narrow sighted. But alas, I should just be happy he allows me the alternative of hollowing them at all... I guess.
We've let Devil out of lock down... kind of. Shes in chains. We quite literally have a ball weight and chain shackled to her feet for good measure. The chains restrict enough to keep her from crafting and the weights ensure she wouldn't survive a run through the path before the denizens ripped her apart. We've got both her hands wrapped into balls and tethered together by her wrists anyways. She couldn't open a door or really do much harm on her own if she wanted to. Although I suspect she doesn't. I've had Ralph feeding her in the meantime. Although I caught her eating with no hands the other day... quite the mess.
Little Jack is still a shit head. Ivan is off with the couriers. Maggot is still off with Em and David.
Oh, and here's the Kicker, I woke Duckie back up.
Lets scale back again. Explain the very nature of how Duckie is even still alive. See Duckie is special. Hes like a warhead. His presence is toxic to fears. They hate it. They hate him. They hiss and squeal. It honestly seems to wound them to whatever small degree.
And that's why I've always fought so hard for Duckie. Because we can use him bash the other Fears under Father's thumb when they fall out of line without ripping a fucking hole in reality as tends to happen when Father has to do it himself.
And that plan honestly could have saved us from our current situation of being hunted like animals by the other fears if it was just one or two of them. But its all of them jabbing at all sides. Made it hard to figure out where to send the warhead.
But Duckies gift comes at a great personal cost to himself. Something long time readers might have noticed.
See, the presence of fears gives poor Duckie an aneurysm. Specially speaking, a brain aneurysm
Now, it was actually never my intent to use Duckie against a fear. That would have been a last resort. Quite frankly, they hate me enough without me trying to shove a thumb in their eyes and it's not my place. That's Fathers place... presumably. I mean they are his Brothers and Sisters.
I was gonna use Duckie in a very important generational blood sacrifice. His special 'trait' and his taught hatred for everyone around around him made him a perfect candidate. But that's neither here or there. We always have more candidates... although Duckie might have been a grand enough sacrifice to have bought us multiple generations before anyone else had to die... real pity.
Naturally Father wasn't thrilled with the idea. In fact, I think that was the first time he ever ripped into be outside of one of my loops. I still have the scar just under my left rip to show for that. I should count myself lucky he didn't take any organs out on his exit that day... I guess.
But I got him to agree the way I always do. See, proxies have quite a reputation for making deals with Father. Bargaining with him. David's was quite famous in his own day for being able to make deals for other people with Father as a kind broker.
I have never been so fortunate. Something about Father and I's relationship has always been a little more on the... hostile side. I make all my deals by bet. If I lose, I get dragged off into a loop and ripped apart bit by bit for... well the deal is for 24 hours but I get the sense he goes for longer... never quite... get use to that...
...
[Fuckface zoned out for like, half an hour. I had to snap him back to reality by punching the desk. -Jack]
Uh, right. So... where... right! But if I win, I get my way.
For Duckie the bet was simple. If, once indoctrinated, he stayed true to his vow of loyalty to Father for 10 years, I got to keep him. If not, in addition to being shredded behind closed loops, I had to put him down with my own hands or my shredding would not be in a loop this time.
Gambled and won. Duckie never shy'd away. Not even when I told him how much Father hated him. Not even when I told him he had to die.
Like a loyal dog... his only recourse was to kneel and wait.
I won. But that Motherfucker.... such a poor loser. He altered the deal. Sure I got Duckie, but just the shell. To spite me, and to great audible personal discomfort, Father picked him up by the neck and peeled away all the made Duckie who he was.
I found it hard to be mad. I mean I had just won. Hollowed or not, I still had Duckie. My precious little sacrifice.
I hadn't anticipated just how petty Father really was. The lengths that motherfucker might take to wiggle around our wager.
Oh he could have just told me. I would have sped up the sacrifice. Hid Duckie far out of his sight as not to remind him of his loss. Would have made arrangements to appease him. Fed him Konna or tossed Zero's sword into a Volcano. Whatever it took.
But he had to feel like he was winning. Getting one up over one me. Felt the needs to pull me off of my high horse and then toss the horse on top of me.
And poor fucking Picasso. When he had me take her to see the Tree those many fucking years ago... I didn't know it would do this to her. I didn't know he'd turn around and use her to try to fucking gut me!
And let me emphasize that this little game of ours has been a foot for YEARS. 2 years to indoctrinate Duckie. 10 years to test him. 4 of which I spent apart from Duckie after that asshole Loveless stole him out from under me and left me for fucking dead. And it wasn't after the full 12 years that he decided to pull this crap with Picasso. He saw Duckie's loyalty. He saw how hard I was working to get him back. He KNEW he was gonna lose. He probably put Loveless up to it, that poor sap.
No. It was 6 years into his career, 8 years after our game started, and 2 years after Duckie was ripped from me.2 years after I had recruited Picasso. 4 ENTIRE fucking years before he would have won or lost the bet, when he told me to take Picasso to see the Tree.
6 years ago, he took her and warped her into the sick depraved thing shes become as INSURANCE in case he lost. Pushed a pawn across the board and made a Queen as I moved in for checkmate.
Well the Motherfucker isn't the only one who can bend the rules. Nothing in our deal said he had to stay hollow and NOTHING in our fucking deal said I couldn't march him out to snap Picasso's neck.
I won FAIR AND SQUARE. And I'm not about to let Father flip the board on me.
We'll settle this game like good gentlemen do, as we always have.
Sunday, July 20, 2014
Monday, July 7, 2014
God Fucking Damn it
Just.... Urrrrph. Fuck. FUUUUUUUCK.
That smug selfish two faced son of a bitch. I'd-.... HRRRMPH. Fucking bullshit.
For once in my life, I find I might very well kill something.
Fuck.
Just... fuck man.
Just... fuck man.
...
Hey there! Surprise Jack Attack! Hahahaha.
Fracture's like... off throwing a fit or something... I don't know for sure actually. Could be off crying into a pillow. Whatever it is Fuck Face does when hes really upset. My money is on the tantrum though though. His pasty pale ass was fuming. I thought the compound might light on fire or something! You know, the parts of the compound that aren't perpetually on fire. I wonder if those would just go out then?
Although that wouldn't be a tantrum at that point. That'd just mean his lazy ass moved the fires.
Regardless there have been no unintentional fires, but once again I find that surprising because that fucker is pissed.
So he asked me to report what happened.
I was there for it after all. I got to torture Devil. Its what I was doing when she came clean.
She couldn't die in the loop. Every time she did, she'd wake up the next day and we'd start the process back over again.
What I did over this time was take a torch and slowly roast away at a part of her body. I would usually start with the far end of an extremity and work my way inwards. For example, I would start with a hand and eventually get to the torso before I moved on to another limb.
The process was, as I already stated, first burning a part of her until it turned black. Then I would take out the knife and start cutting away at the black until I found pink or red again. Then I would resume the burning. I would do this until I got to the bone. Then I would move to the other side of the limb and burn that down to the bone. Work my way up the bone. And when there was no flesh left on it, I would break the bone away. Assuming I even had to at that point.
She got through the first day of this screaming and crying before she bit through her own tongue and prematurely killed herself. I had only just removed her hand the day following when she finally gave in. I suppose its one thing to die for a cause. Its another thing to keep dying for a cause.
At the end of the day, repetition really is the best torture.
The conversation when something like this:
"No! NO NO NO NO NO!" And then she screamed as I broke her charred hand away and took a torch to the end of the limb to make sure she wouldn't bleed out.
She started babbling after that. "N-No... no no no no no. No more... no... NO MORE!" She started to scream again as I took the knife out once more to start carving away the black charred flesh.
"Wait," said Facture, holding up a hand like hes a fucking Jedi with mind fuck powers. The whole gesture made me want to keep going out of spite but I stopped anyways. Last thing I need is to end up strapped to a table like Devil with that fucker Maggot taking a torch to me for my disobedience.
"Who is behind this? The rake? Have you been hearing whispers? The wooden girl? Have you been threatened with a life on strings? Possibly the intrusion? Is there a massive millipede living in my fucking ventilation system?!"
"I-I already told you... S-Sloth did. H-He wants to see Duckie put to re-"
"BULLSHIT! Sloth's a cleaver little snake in the grass but his dumb ass can barely get two words out at you without you sucker punching him. You expect me to believe you two had a convincing little heart to heart where you talked you into helping him kill YOUR brother? The only reason you're here?"
"I-Its tr-"
"Stop lying to me...!" He said. The words were followed with a heavy sigh. Devil was panicked. She looked conflicted.
"Jack, go ah-"
"N-No no no no no no! Pl-Please!"
"Then tell me!"
She took a deep breath and clenched her remaining first. The crying and sobbing stopped and she slowly worked herself into a glare. A death glare. One she leveled at Fracture.
"Fine. You want to know?"
"Cut the fucking theatrics and just tell me!"
To that, she huffed. "You're precious Fath-"
Before she could finish that thought, she started seizing. Her eyes rolled back and she started vomiting black goo uncontrollably. In quantities far greater than would could feasibly fit into the human stomach... or lungs for that matter. Possible in all of the digestive system! It was a lot. I give it 10 on the vomit scale out of a possible 5. Wicked shit.
I was all tough and brave though this. I didn't even flinch [This isn't true.]. Fracture, however, jumped and yelped like a frightened child.
Terror melted away to understanding. Understanding gave way to rage. I'm told this is how most people function to virtually any new information but I've definitely not see the rage hit these levels of extreme before.
He was so fucking mad.
I can only conclude that since the goo wasn't EAT's ink or Red Cap blood stuff, that the gunk is ichor. Which would mean Father did that to her to silence her... funnily enough, giving himself up in the process.
Devil, fortunately enough, did wake up this morning. We have her tied down but the torture is done... for now.
She seems hesitant to talk now but she might try again if pressed. Vomiting goo seems like an easier death than slowly being burned and cut away after all.
Fracture's in no mood to press her though. We'll let you know whats on the up when he calms his mad ass down.
Until then I think I'm gonna go rub shit in Maggot's bed. He's off training under David Banks with some ginger bitch named M or something.
Apparently, my referring to her as that during the briefing is why Maggot was sent instead of me. I think I'm the one that got the better end of that deal though. I got to torture someone. Maggot's stuck out there babysitting a particularly pampered runner and an old man.
Definitely feels like I won.
Jack out.
Hey there! Surprise Jack Attack! Hahahaha.
Fracture's like... off throwing a fit or something... I don't know for sure actually. Could be off crying into a pillow. Whatever it is Fuck Face does when hes really upset. My money is on the tantrum though though. His pasty pale ass was fuming. I thought the compound might light on fire or something! You know, the parts of the compound that aren't perpetually on fire. I wonder if those would just go out then?
Although that wouldn't be a tantrum at that point. That'd just mean his lazy ass moved the fires.
Regardless there have been no unintentional fires, but once again I find that surprising because that fucker is pissed.
So he asked me to report what happened.
I was there for it after all. I got to torture Devil. Its what I was doing when she came clean.
She couldn't die in the loop. Every time she did, she'd wake up the next day and we'd start the process back over again.
What I did over this time was take a torch and slowly roast away at a part of her body. I would usually start with the far end of an extremity and work my way inwards. For example, I would start with a hand and eventually get to the torso before I moved on to another limb.
The process was, as I already stated, first burning a part of her until it turned black. Then I would take out the knife and start cutting away at the black until I found pink or red again. Then I would resume the burning. I would do this until I got to the bone. Then I would move to the other side of the limb and burn that down to the bone. Work my way up the bone. And when there was no flesh left on it, I would break the bone away. Assuming I even had to at that point.
She got through the first day of this screaming and crying before she bit through her own tongue and prematurely killed herself. I had only just removed her hand the day following when she finally gave in. I suppose its one thing to die for a cause. Its another thing to keep dying for a cause.
At the end of the day, repetition really is the best torture.
The conversation when something like this:
"No! NO NO NO NO NO!" And then she screamed as I broke her charred hand away and took a torch to the end of the limb to make sure she wouldn't bleed out.
She started babbling after that. "N-No... no no no no no. No more... no... NO MORE!" She started to scream again as I took the knife out once more to start carving away the black charred flesh.
"Wait," said Facture, holding up a hand like hes a fucking Jedi with mind fuck powers. The whole gesture made me want to keep going out of spite but I stopped anyways. Last thing I need is to end up strapped to a table like Devil with that fucker Maggot taking a torch to me for my disobedience.
"Who is behind this? The rake? Have you been hearing whispers? The wooden girl? Have you been threatened with a life on strings? Possibly the intrusion? Is there a massive millipede living in my fucking ventilation system?!"
"I-I already told you... S-Sloth did. H-He wants to see Duckie put to re-"
"BULLSHIT! Sloth's a cleaver little snake in the grass but his dumb ass can barely get two words out at you without you sucker punching him. You expect me to believe you two had a convincing little heart to heart where you talked you into helping him kill YOUR brother? The only reason you're here?"
"I-Its tr-"
"Stop lying to me...!" He said. The words were followed with a heavy sigh. Devil was panicked. She looked conflicted.
"Jack, go ah-"
"N-No no no no no no! Pl-Please!"
"Then tell me!"
She took a deep breath and clenched her remaining first. The crying and sobbing stopped and she slowly worked herself into a glare. A death glare. One she leveled at Fracture.
"Fine. You want to know?"
"Cut the fucking theatrics and just tell me!"
To that, she huffed. "You're precious Fath-"
Before she could finish that thought, she started seizing. Her eyes rolled back and she started vomiting black goo uncontrollably. In quantities far greater than would could feasibly fit into the human stomach... or lungs for that matter. Possible in all of the digestive system! It was a lot. I give it 10 on the vomit scale out of a possible 5. Wicked shit.
I was all tough and brave though this. I didn't even flinch [This isn't true.]. Fracture, however, jumped and yelped like a frightened child.
Terror melted away to understanding. Understanding gave way to rage. I'm told this is how most people function to virtually any new information but I've definitely not see the rage hit these levels of extreme before.
He was so fucking mad.
I can only conclude that since the goo wasn't EAT's ink or Red Cap blood stuff, that the gunk is ichor. Which would mean Father did that to her to silence her... funnily enough, giving himself up in the process.
Devil, fortunately enough, did wake up this morning. We have her tied down but the torture is done... for now.
She seems hesitant to talk now but she might try again if pressed. Vomiting goo seems like an easier death than slowly being burned and cut away after all.
Fracture's in no mood to press her though. We'll let you know whats on the up when he calms his mad ass down.
Until then I think I'm gonna go rub shit in Maggot's bed. He's off training under David Banks with some ginger bitch named M or something.
Apparently, my referring to her as that during the briefing is why Maggot was sent instead of me. I think I'm the one that got the better end of that deal though. I got to torture someone. Maggot's stuck out there babysitting a particularly pampered runner and an old man.
Definitely feels like I won.
Jack out.
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
So Much Fucking News
Well.
How about... news updates. Lets do the fucking news. New things are fucking fun and exciting. I'm sure you assholes can at least get a kick out of these.
First off Sage news. Rapist the Downer had a little update.
I had Maggot, my ward, a child of 10 spying on Mr. David Banks. Now, before I get a font of criticism, I can assure you that Maggot was in no any real danger. Maggot is quite capable. Maggot has even survived going toe to toe with Nat once. I think that speaks for itself. In fact, given David's extreme pro-children bend right now my little Maggot is probably in the safest place in the world.
I, however, have been threatened to experience quote, "The worst thing I've yet to do to anyone," by Mr. Banks as a result of him catching Maggot in the act. Which sounds unpleasant. Needless to say, there will be no afternoon tea between us any time soon.
To get him to stop sending Maggot away, I had to bribe him. In exchange for taking Maggot in so we may continue to observe and protect vested interests tied to Mr. Banks, I have agreed to double his bounty. Which I did last night rather suddenly without telling anyone. That extra $125,000 is money that all comes directly out of my pocket the day that asshole dies. I hope hes happy.
Now his murder is worth a quarter million. Great Job. Good Luck. Happy Hunting everyone.
...
Second bit of news this week, Couriers are suddenly a thing again.
Here's hoping they don't implode on themselves again when their pet cross dresser gets murdered out of the blue. Just to keep the stakes high and leave that as a very real possibility I've sent Ivan to serve the group and assist in their efforts, whatever those efforts may be.
...Not that Ivan is a cross dresser mind you. But he is pretty like a girl and I snuck a dress into his luggage so tensions are high! It could happen again. The struggle is real!
And yes, that's right. I sent a proxy to unconditionally assist Couriers. They have limited support from the Free Market.
We helped negotiate terms of safety to ensure their venture won't be a short lived. No proxy, hollow, or asset of the Free Market will see them done harm from now until the end time. In exchange they are willing to make deliveries from and to proxies. That said, I unfortunately can't guarantee their safety against any non-Free Market assets. But from what I've seen they are a capable bunch. They will undoubtedly manage until the cross dresser dies.
Now, my support of these new Couriers shouldn't really surprise anyone. We here at the Free Market are progressive, better proxies. We made an entire proclamation about it. That should probably get its own little page tab thing or something...
We're hoping that supporting projects like this will help close the rift that separates Proxies and Runners. We are, after all, all Father's playthings.
...
And our final bit of news for the night is personal news.
That fucking ungrateful, ingrate, ass hat Helrick decided he didn't like the results of our last attempt to fix Picasso. So he took it upon himself to smuggle her out of here under the misguided impression that she would be better off further away from me. He is an idiot. Shes more unstable now than she ever has been before and there is no doubt in my mind that shes gonna kill him.
She may very well kill Moth, Nat, Navi, Sloth, and Vallus while shes at it. There's really no telling. Shes just that unstable.
Helrick did allude to the fact that someone helped them escape. Some else who worked for me. Someone I had already detained by the time he put the post up.
I've had to lock up Devil. Its become clear that shes assisting Sloth in his little coup against me. Even if I could overlook her feeding me drugs and letting me take naps as treatment for a concussion, her helping Picasso escape is a clear indicator of where her loyalties lie. I don't know why, but apparently she wants to see her Brother Duckie dead.
Which is funny. A long time a go she made me promise I would do everything in my power to look out for Duckie. You just never know what crazy stupid thing people are gonna turn around and do.
Shes been insisting that Sloth talked her into helping him but I'm not buying it. She was super into the well being of her brother. There's no way she was simply talked out of it. I think whatever fear is fucking with Picasso got to Devil too.
I'd have whisper forcibly extract the information I need from her to find out who is really behind all this but hes still out of commission and struggling to form words. So we've just resorted to good old fashion torture.
But Devil's a stubborn bitch and has thus far refused to spill. Not surprising, seeing as she is an ex-drug lord. But we can hurt her as much as we want for as long as we want as long as we have her in this loop. Little Jack has been having a lot of fun removing layers of muscle and skin. I'd probably have Maggot working on it too if the little shit was still around.
Rest assured though, we will get our answers.
I'm quite done fucking around. This will be settled.
The Lord Guardian Fracture out.
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Shattered Dream's Aren't All They Seem
Fracture here. So, Devil decided to go ahead with a post while I was still a little out of it. If she want's to post half incoherent crap, I suppose that her prerogative. Most of what she managed to press out of me was true enough anyways. My greater concern there was actually that she treated my concussion with alcohol, morphine, and ice cream and let me take naps. It shouldn't have taken this long to rebound from an injury in a loop... wouldn't have if she hadn't been exasperating my condition...
Oh well, that's enough foreshadowing for now.
Lets finish explaining what happened.
Run Devil... run.
Last time on explaining the thing what had happened was:
'Should we make her believe Trent never died?' he wrote off to the side with his other hand.
'No. We don't need her questioning where he is when she wakes up. Asking why he never visits. Make him make her promise to forgive and help Duckie. Hes sick and needs help, not to be put down. Make him send her to meet me. Have him tell her to listen to me. Have him tell her I'm someone she can trust. If she trusts me, forgives Duckie, and has this closure with her Brother, I think she'll be manageable again.'
Should have worked... should have...
And now the exciting conclusion of explaining the thing what had happened:
'Picasso," Whisper said tightening his grip on her shoulder, 'I need you to listen to me. Do not-,' he started before he coughed again, taking a moment to wipe away what I can only assume was being interpreted as blood in Picasso's head, 'Do not pursue Duckie over this. Th-This,' he said pausing for another cough that he didn't bother to wipe away this time, 'This was an accident. If nothing else... the son of a bitch needs your help right now. You're losing your brother... hes losing his best friend. Look out for each other.' He takes a moment to shake that shoulder. 'Promise me'
'I-I promise!' she said, sounding not to convinced of what he was saying but the confirmation was reassuring.
'Good!' said whisper before coughing harder and louder than before and then wheezing to really sell it. 'You and him... need to meet up with this man,' he said pulling one of my business cards out of his pocket and putting it in front of her for her to see before putting it in her hand.
'Wh-Who is... Fra-... Fracture?' she said squinting. I'm guessing Picasso couldn't read very well at this point in her life.
'Hes a friend. Hes been helping finance us... helping me work legal loop holes in the bureau's system so they couldn't take you away from me... he'll make sure you're taken care of.'
'T-Take me away from you?! Wh-Who-... Wh-Why?! Why would someone want to-' she started, beginning to get angry again. She was gonna want answers to a lot of questions that would have just convoluted the narrative at this point. So I gave whisper the wrap it up motion.
Whisper took the cue to start coughing uncontrollably and loosen his grip on her shoulder. Both signs that he was getting ready to pass away. 'I'm sorry S-Sweety... I love you... M-Make me prou-' he said before suddenly stopping, letting his head drop, and closing his eyes.
After that, Picasso started struggling and screaming like crazy again.
'NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!'
Whisper moved away from on top of her and we gave her space to scream, pant, and exhausted herself. After a while she started violenting siezing and shaking and shit. Foaming at the mouth. Her eyes even rolled back. When she stopped she started screaming again. She was starting to hyperventilate by the time she finally started to do what we like to call, de-fragment.
Given a bunch of forced overriding memories, the mind tends to rewrite events to make sense of the new information. And once it's cognitively finished the process, it spews all that information out loud to get its own story straight.
Fascinating to watch, if not vomittous.
'My name is Picasso. We were attacked by a proxy that broke into the wrong home. My brother killed him in self defense... the Bureau decided my brother would replace the life he took or die... he took me with him. We killed our neighbor... So much blood... pretty, shiny blood... share the beauty Trish... he left... so sad... hes back... so strong... beautiful blood stained sword... N-No... They're dying... STOP DYING... Promise me... Good.... NO, YOU PROMISED... I promise... Y-Yes... Y-You where a friend of my Brother's right?... I get this entire room? ... Moth, stop! They'll hear... Where are we going? ....,' and at this point she broke into incoherent screaming again.
'IF YOU GO DOWN TO THE WOODS TODAY, YOU BETTER CLOSE YOUR EYES. IF YOU GO DOWN TO THE WOODS TODAY YOU'RE PROBABLY GONNA DIE. ITS FEEDING DOWN IN THE WOODS TODAY. THEY BLEED AND CRY BEFORE PUS FILLED EYES.... if you go down to the woods today, THE SCREAMING NEVER DIES!'
And with that she started hyperventilating again before she finally calmed down.
'Master killed Duckie today... guess we can't all be forgiven... NONE OF US CAN BE FORGIVEN... PURGE THE UNWORTHY... N-No way... Duckies alive... Have to... help him... Fracture says this will help but... Duckie seems to be getting worse for it... Wh-Why are we hurting him like this...? WHY?!... He's... Hes gone again... husk... Fracture broke him...' she said getting extremely mad again. 'AND HES KEEPING THE HUSK AS A TROPHY!'
And with that, she managed to rip through bars of solid iron to sit up. Whisper started talking at her but she didn't even respond. She sprang up, ripping iron into her flesh as she finished breaking through the last of her restraints to leap at Whisper.
With one swift motion she slammed his neck against the wall, crushing his throat.
I shot her with an elephant tranquilizer. She swiftly responded by leaping over with inhuman speed to bash my head into the table she had sprung free from. I responded by unloading the other 5 rounds of tranquilizers I had in the gun into her. Which did stop her... after she bashed my head against the table to more times.
'Have to... help duckie... set him... free...' she mumbled out as she passed out.
At that point... I called Ivan and Helrick in. Had them drag her back to a cell. I was screaming orders at them when things suddenly went black. I woke up in my bed about a week later to find I was being overly medicated in a lot of ways that likely made things worse than they might otherwise have been by my assistant Devil...
Visited whisper. Hes doing fine... the loop healed him but hes having a hard time forming words right now... sometimes when you take a blow like that it hits you on a mental level. Hes having trouble coming to terms with the memory of his throat being crushed. Something he could cure others of with his words ironically enough.
Picasso is worse than ever.
"I'M GONNA SAVE DUCKIE YOU SON OF A BITCH. What you did to him was wrong and I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU FOR IT. Set his poor TORTURED soul free NOW and I'll make your death QUICK! OTHERWISE I'M GONNA KILL YOU ALL."
It just... doesn't matter does it. Regardless of what I do to fix her... shes gonna keep coming after him... keep coming after me.
She's not gonna stop until she tears the whole fucking Free Market apart from the sound of it.
And those restraints... that was reinforced iron... Just fucking ripped right through it. Tore right through her own flesh and didn't even fucking flinch... in human...
Like something keeps pushing her on this path... something impossibly strong... something firmly planted deep in her mind...
Could she... be a double agent. I smell Fear meddling. But... who?
Oh well, that's enough foreshadowing for now.
Lets finish explaining what happened.
Run Devil... run.
Last time on explaining the thing what had happened was:
'Should we make her believe Trent never died?' he wrote off to the side with his other hand.
'No. We don't need her questioning where he is when she wakes up. Asking why he never visits. Make him make her promise to forgive and help Duckie. Hes sick and needs help, not to be put down. Make him send her to meet me. Have him tell her to listen to me. Have him tell her I'm someone she can trust. If she trusts me, forgives Duckie, and has this closure with her Brother, I think she'll be manageable again.'
Should have worked... should have...
And now the exciting conclusion of explaining the thing what had happened:
'Picasso," Whisper said tightening his grip on her shoulder, 'I need you to listen to me. Do not-,' he started before he coughed again, taking a moment to wipe away what I can only assume was being interpreted as blood in Picasso's head, 'Do not pursue Duckie over this. Th-This,' he said pausing for another cough that he didn't bother to wipe away this time, 'This was an accident. If nothing else... the son of a bitch needs your help right now. You're losing your brother... hes losing his best friend. Look out for each other.' He takes a moment to shake that shoulder. 'Promise me'
'I-I promise!' she said, sounding not to convinced of what he was saying but the confirmation was reassuring.
'Good!' said whisper before coughing harder and louder than before and then wheezing to really sell it. 'You and him... need to meet up with this man,' he said pulling one of my business cards out of his pocket and putting it in front of her for her to see before putting it in her hand.
'Wh-Who is... Fra-... Fracture?' she said squinting. I'm guessing Picasso couldn't read very well at this point in her life.
'Hes a friend. Hes been helping finance us... helping me work legal loop holes in the bureau's system so they couldn't take you away from me... he'll make sure you're taken care of.'
'T-Take me away from you?! Wh-Who-... Wh-Why?! Why would someone want to-' she started, beginning to get angry again. She was gonna want answers to a lot of questions that would have just convoluted the narrative at this point. So I gave whisper the wrap it up motion.
Whisper took the cue to start coughing uncontrollably and loosen his grip on her shoulder. Both signs that he was getting ready to pass away. 'I'm sorry S-Sweety... I love you... M-Make me prou-' he said before suddenly stopping, letting his head drop, and closing his eyes.
After that, Picasso started struggling and screaming like crazy again.
'NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!'
Whisper moved away from on top of her and we gave her space to scream, pant, and exhausted herself. After a while she started violenting siezing and shaking and shit. Foaming at the mouth. Her eyes even rolled back. When she stopped she started screaming again. She was starting to hyperventilate by the time she finally started to do what we like to call, de-fragment.
Given a bunch of forced overriding memories, the mind tends to rewrite events to make sense of the new information. And once it's cognitively finished the process, it spews all that information out loud to get its own story straight.
Fascinating to watch, if not vomittous.
'My name is Picasso. We were attacked by a proxy that broke into the wrong home. My brother killed him in self defense... the Bureau decided my brother would replace the life he took or die... he took me with him. We killed our neighbor... So much blood... pretty, shiny blood... share the beauty Trish... he left... so sad... hes back... so strong... beautiful blood stained sword... N-No... They're dying... STOP DYING... Promise me... Good.... NO, YOU PROMISED... I promise... Y-Yes... Y-You where a friend of my Brother's right?... I get this entire room? ... Moth, stop! They'll hear... Where are we going? ....,' and at this point she broke into incoherent screaming again.
'IF YOU GO DOWN TO THE WOODS TODAY, YOU BETTER CLOSE YOUR EYES. IF YOU GO DOWN TO THE WOODS TODAY YOU'RE PROBABLY GONNA DIE. ITS FEEDING DOWN IN THE WOODS TODAY. THEY BLEED AND CRY BEFORE PUS FILLED EYES.... if you go down to the woods today, THE SCREAMING NEVER DIES!'
And with that she started hyperventilating again before she finally calmed down.
'Master killed Duckie today... guess we can't all be forgiven... NONE OF US CAN BE FORGIVEN... PURGE THE UNWORTHY... N-No way... Duckies alive... Have to... help him... Fracture says this will help but... Duckie seems to be getting worse for it... Wh-Why are we hurting him like this...? WHY?!... He's... Hes gone again... husk... Fracture broke him...' she said getting extremely mad again. 'AND HES KEEPING THE HUSK AS A TROPHY!'
And with that, she managed to rip through bars of solid iron to sit up. Whisper started talking at her but she didn't even respond. She sprang up, ripping iron into her flesh as she finished breaking through the last of her restraints to leap at Whisper.
With one swift motion she slammed his neck against the wall, crushing his throat.
I shot her with an elephant tranquilizer. She swiftly responded by leaping over with inhuman speed to bash my head into the table she had sprung free from. I responded by unloading the other 5 rounds of tranquilizers I had in the gun into her. Which did stop her... after she bashed my head against the table to more times.
'Have to... help duckie... set him... free...' she mumbled out as she passed out.
At that point... I called Ivan and Helrick in. Had them drag her back to a cell. I was screaming orders at them when things suddenly went black. I woke up in my bed about a week later to find I was being overly medicated in a lot of ways that likely made things worse than they might otherwise have been by my assistant Devil...
Visited whisper. Hes doing fine... the loop healed him but hes having a hard time forming words right now... sometimes when you take a blow like that it hits you on a mental level. Hes having trouble coming to terms with the memory of his throat being crushed. Something he could cure others of with his words ironically enough.
Picasso is worse than ever.
"I'M GONNA SAVE DUCKIE YOU SON OF A BITCH. What you did to him was wrong and I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU FOR IT. Set his poor TORTURED soul free NOW and I'll make your death QUICK! OTHERWISE I'M GONNA KILL YOU ALL."
It just... doesn't matter does it. Regardless of what I do to fix her... shes gonna keep coming after him... keep coming after me.
She's not gonna stop until she tears the whole fucking Free Market apart from the sound of it.
And those restraints... that was reinforced iron... Just fucking ripped right through it. Tore right through her own flesh and didn't even fucking flinch... in human...
Like something keeps pushing her on this path... something impossibly strong... something firmly planted deep in her mind...
Could she... be a double agent. I smell Fear meddling. But... who?
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
Dear God My Aching concussion.
Having Devil go over this as I write it. Need to make sure its cogent. Shes real good with uh... word stuff.
Things uh.... could have uh...uh ummm...the uh... could have gone better... right. Fuck. Sorry. Need a minute..
Blue lights are not your friend.
Okay. So like... uh.
She was screaming. Right.
"Nooo!"
So fucking loud. Bloody fucking murder. She was bolted down pretty good. Nails digging into the table's wood. Dug in so hard she had managed to rip a few of them off... probably still embedded into the table. Rabid thing.
Couldn't flail but my god if she could. Be kicking and flopping all over the place. Right up the wall maybe. Like some Freddy Crouger shit. Fucking... Christmas sweater shit.
"Shhhh," I whispered. Shushed. Calmed. Soothed. Didn't work. Kept trying to squirm.
Helrick... think he had to look away. The way she had ripped open her own finger tips, uh scratching at the table... got to him.
I was stroking her hair. Sooooooothing. Think at some point between the screaming I remember her tilting her head up as high as she could manage to try to bite my fingers.
Rabid thing.
"Right..." I said when she wouldn't sooth. "Lets just get started then."
Whisper stood up and moved over to her. Leaned in close. Pushed her face head against the table so he could get at her ear without him biting her and shit.
At this point Helrick and Ivan had to leave the room. I can resist whisper's voice but... nerds can't. Needed to be out of ear shot. Made them meander down the hall... tweedle thumbs.
Picasso's fighting got more desperate. More panicked. "NO! NO! NO! NO! N-"
And then suddenly she stopped.
"Stop it."
Was all he said. That simple. He says it. It gets done. No if and or buts. If you aren't immune... gonna swoon for Whisper woon.
Woooon.
Heh.
"How do are we gonna do it this time?"
"We need to nip this whole insanity spiral in the butt. Push her away from his whole line of thinking. Make her stop chasing Duckie. Push this... abomination down. Pull Patricia back up. Force Picasso way way down. Make like... like new. Like when she first arrived."
"Impossible. We already know through extensive trials there is no way to make her stop screaming at random when she talks."
"Well, you know. Besides that. I don't know that we can remove her... quirks. There are always going to be ghosts of past efforts. Scars mapping tragedies across her mind. But I think we can bring back that core behavior pattern. Make her behavior like Patricia on an internal level. And that'll carry on into everything she does... theoretically."
"Well, Lord Albino, where would I even start with that?"
"Lets take her back to the night her brother died. This is all supposed to be for him. Revenge against Duckie for accidentally running her brother through with his own sword. The documented report says she spent hours trying to talk to his corpse when it happened. Wouldn't leave his side. I think its high time she had a talk with her 'Bother'. I'm thinking it would be easiest to set her straight working off of that moment."
As we talked Picasso slowly got louder. Slowly started again. It started soft and it slowly grew.
"no... no.... noo..... No....Noo.... Nooooo.... NOOO..... NOOOOOOO!"
"Yes," I told her. I could feel my grin. I was getting no small amount of satisfaction from her suffering. I getting a big amount. For all the trouble she had caused these last two years... felt good to see her back on the beating end of the stick.
Whisper pulled out the file we had and started discribing the night to her. Describe the incident. Put her through it. Put her back in there. Pushed her back into the moment. Make her live inside the memory. Made it her world once more. Made her world back into the moment when the universe came crashing down on her.
Pushed her back into the start of the nightmare. Source of the suffering...
She was begging...
"No... common... open your eyes... this isn't funny Feral... you're gonna be okay... just... just wake up... Feral... I need you... I NEED you... I SAID wake UP... WAKE THE FUCK UP TRENT... CAN YOU HEAR ME?! WAKE THE FUCK UP YOU USELESS PIECE OF SHIT. YOU PROMISED! MAKE GOOD ON IT OR I WON'T FORGIVE YOU!"
I could see her hands jerking. Clenching onto something that wasn't there and thrusting them forward.
According to the report, Feral A.K.A Trent, Picasso's brother died of a fatal sword impalement... but he was found with a crushed skull. The way shes trying to thrust her hands forward. The shape her hands are trying to grasp... I think she crushed her brother's skull... screaming at him to wake up...
I motioned at whisper. If he wasn't dead before, her crushing his skull would make him very dead. Whisper needed to step in now before the situation became too surreal to stick. If that happened all this little incident would serve to do is traumatize her further.
Had to act... had to... Fucking ow... more... ibuprofen... morphine.... scotch...
scotch scotch scotch... scotchy scotch scotch... good ice cream...
hahaha... free market... brought to you by scotch!
[He went on to write a whole paragraph that went on like that before he went back to the tape recorder and replayed the next instance of dialogue before turning back to me to try to give it context through slurred broken speech]
"This is Trent Picasso. This voice is Trent's voice. When you hear me its him. I'm him. I'm alive... god this hurts... stop hurting me..."
"Tr-Trent...? A-Are r-... ommaggoiwwassosskeeeeaaarrriiid!" she cried out as she broke into tears. She was sobbing. Sniffling. Snorting to try to keep her nose from running. "I thought I lost YOU..."
I could see from her tense grasp and posture... think in her head... hugging him. Hugging whisper... mental to herself... so tight she would have hurt an injured person.
"P-Picasso!" he cried out in pain, miming the motion of pushing her off of him. "Ca-Calm down... hurting me," he said miming another motion like he was nursing a wound around his chest.
"Oh god! I'm sorry!" she declares. Her body shifted against he restraints, like she had just shifted away in her head. So I assumed.
"Picasso... Patricia sweety... I uh..." bstarted whisper before he randomly broke out coughing, putting his hand infront of his mouth and then looking in disguest and agony as if he had just coughed up a whole bunch of blood, "... Think I'm about to break that promise..." When he said that her eyes went wide. "Pretty sure... I'm not gonna make it."
When he said that... she started begging again... pleading... such pain... given what she wanted... slipping away from her again...
"No! Y-You can pull through this! Don't speak like that. Don't you FUCKING give up on me. I F-"
Whisper grabbed Picasso's shoulder with one hand to shut her up. Stop her. Settle her down with an authoritative gesture from what is likely the only authority she has ever respected.
We had her right where we wanted her.
'Should we make her believe Trent never died?' he wrote off to the side with his other hand.
'No. We don't need her questioning where he is when she wakes up. Asking why he never visits. Make him make her promise to forgive and help Duckie. Hes sick and needs help, not to be put down. Make him send her to meet me. Have him tell her to listen to me. Have him tell her I'm someone she can trust. If she trusts me, forgives Duckie, and has this closure with her Brother, I think she'll be manageable again.'
Should have worked... should have...
[And then he fell out of his chair and passed out on the floor. Hit the ground pretty hard. Hes real fucking lucky he lives in a loop and was injured in a loop or I'm pretty sure this would have killed him. Spoilers. Hes better now. But after we spent all that time coxing explanations out of him when he was really out of it, it felt like a waste to just throw it all out and let him explain it again with a clearer head. So this is what we got before he got more cogent again. I'm sure he'll post the rest when hes done fuming over this.
Dictated but not read by Fracture,
Heavily edited by yours truly,
Devil Out]
Things uh.... could have uh...uh ummm...the uh... could have gone better... right. Fuck. Sorry. Need a minute..
Blue lights are not your friend.
Okay. So like... uh.
She was screaming. Right.
"Nooo!"
So fucking loud. Bloody fucking murder. She was bolted down pretty good. Nails digging into the table's wood. Dug in so hard she had managed to rip a few of them off... probably still embedded into the table. Rabid thing.
Couldn't flail but my god if she could. Be kicking and flopping all over the place. Right up the wall maybe. Like some Freddy Crouger shit. Fucking... Christmas sweater shit.
"Shhhh," I whispered. Shushed. Calmed. Soothed. Didn't work. Kept trying to squirm.
Helrick... think he had to look away. The way she had ripped open her own finger tips, uh scratching at the table... got to him.
I was stroking her hair. Sooooooothing. Think at some point between the screaming I remember her tilting her head up as high as she could manage to try to bite my fingers.
Rabid thing.
"Right..." I said when she wouldn't sooth. "Lets just get started then."
Whisper stood up and moved over to her. Leaned in close. Pushed her face head against the table so he could get at her ear without him biting her and shit.
At this point Helrick and Ivan had to leave the room. I can resist whisper's voice but... nerds can't. Needed to be out of ear shot. Made them meander down the hall... tweedle thumbs.
Picasso's fighting got more desperate. More panicked. "NO! NO! NO! NO! N-"
And then suddenly she stopped.
"Stop it."
Was all he said. That simple. He says it. It gets done. No if and or buts. If you aren't immune... gonna swoon for Whisper woon.
Woooon.
Heh.
"How do are we gonna do it this time?"
"We need to nip this whole insanity spiral in the butt. Push her away from his whole line of thinking. Make her stop chasing Duckie. Push this... abomination down. Pull Patricia back up. Force Picasso way way down. Make like... like new. Like when she first arrived."
"Impossible. We already know through extensive trials there is no way to make her stop screaming at random when she talks."
"Well, you know. Besides that. I don't know that we can remove her... quirks. There are always going to be ghosts of past efforts. Scars mapping tragedies across her mind. But I think we can bring back that core behavior pattern. Make her behavior like Patricia on an internal level. And that'll carry on into everything she does... theoretically."
"Well, Lord Albino, where would I even start with that?"
"Lets take her back to the night her brother died. This is all supposed to be for him. Revenge against Duckie for accidentally running her brother through with his own sword. The documented report says she spent hours trying to talk to his corpse when it happened. Wouldn't leave his side. I think its high time she had a talk with her 'Bother'. I'm thinking it would be easiest to set her straight working off of that moment."
As we talked Picasso slowly got louder. Slowly started again. It started soft and it slowly grew.
"no... no.... noo..... No....Noo.... Nooooo.... NOOO..... NOOOOOOO!"
"Yes," I told her. I could feel my grin. I was getting no small amount of satisfaction from her suffering. I getting a big amount. For all the trouble she had caused these last two years... felt good to see her back on the beating end of the stick.
Whisper pulled out the file we had and started discribing the night to her. Describe the incident. Put her through it. Put her back in there. Pushed her back into the moment. Make her live inside the memory. Made it her world once more. Made her world back into the moment when the universe came crashing down on her.
Pushed her back into the start of the nightmare. Source of the suffering...
She was begging...
"No... common... open your eyes... this isn't funny Feral... you're gonna be okay... just... just wake up... Feral... I need you... I NEED you... I SAID wake UP... WAKE THE FUCK UP TRENT... CAN YOU HEAR ME?! WAKE THE FUCK UP YOU USELESS PIECE OF SHIT. YOU PROMISED! MAKE GOOD ON IT OR I WON'T FORGIVE YOU!"
I could see her hands jerking. Clenching onto something that wasn't there and thrusting them forward.
According to the report, Feral A.K.A Trent, Picasso's brother died of a fatal sword impalement... but he was found with a crushed skull. The way shes trying to thrust her hands forward. The shape her hands are trying to grasp... I think she crushed her brother's skull... screaming at him to wake up...
I motioned at whisper. If he wasn't dead before, her crushing his skull would make him very dead. Whisper needed to step in now before the situation became too surreal to stick. If that happened all this little incident would serve to do is traumatize her further.
Had to act... had to... Fucking ow... more... ibuprofen... morphine.... scotch...
scotch scotch scotch... scotchy scotch scotch... good ice cream...
hahaha... free market... brought to you by scotch!
[He went on to write a whole paragraph that went on like that before he went back to the tape recorder and replayed the next instance of dialogue before turning back to me to try to give it context through slurred broken speech]
"This is Trent Picasso. This voice is Trent's voice. When you hear me its him. I'm him. I'm alive... god this hurts... stop hurting me..."
"Tr-Trent...? A-Are r-... ommaggoiwwassosskeeeeaaarrriiid!" she cried out as she broke into tears. She was sobbing. Sniffling. Snorting to try to keep her nose from running. "I thought I lost YOU..."
I could see from her tense grasp and posture... think in her head... hugging him. Hugging whisper... mental to herself... so tight she would have hurt an injured person.
"P-Picasso!" he cried out in pain, miming the motion of pushing her off of him. "Ca-Calm down... hurting me," he said miming another motion like he was nursing a wound around his chest.
"Oh god! I'm sorry!" she declares. Her body shifted against he restraints, like she had just shifted away in her head. So I assumed.
"Picasso... Patricia sweety... I uh..." bstarted whisper before he randomly broke out coughing, putting his hand infront of his mouth and then looking in disguest and agony as if he had just coughed up a whole bunch of blood, "... Think I'm about to break that promise..." When he said that her eyes went wide. "Pretty sure... I'm not gonna make it."
When he said that... she started begging again... pleading... such pain... given what she wanted... slipping away from her again...
"No! Y-You can pull through this! Don't speak like that. Don't you FUCKING give up on me. I F-"
Whisper grabbed Picasso's shoulder with one hand to shut her up. Stop her. Settle her down with an authoritative gesture from what is likely the only authority she has ever respected.
We had her right where we wanted her.
'Should we make her believe Trent never died?' he wrote off to the side with his other hand.
'No. We don't need her questioning where he is when she wakes up. Asking why he never visits. Make him make her promise to forgive and help Duckie. Hes sick and needs help, not to be put down. Make him send her to meet me. Have him tell her to listen to me. Have him tell her I'm someone she can trust. If she trusts me, forgives Duckie, and has this closure with her Brother, I think she'll be manageable again.'
Should have worked... should have...
[And then he fell out of his chair and passed out on the floor. Hit the ground pretty hard. Hes real fucking lucky he lives in a loop and was injured in a loop or I'm pretty sure this would have killed him. Spoilers. Hes better now. But after we spent all that time coxing explanations out of him when he was really out of it, it felt like a waste to just throw it all out and let him explain it again with a clearer head. So this is what we got before he got more cogent again. I'm sure he'll post the rest when hes done fuming over this.
Dictated but not read by Fracture,
Heavily edited by yours truly,
Devil Out]
Thursday, June 5, 2014
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.
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.
Thursday, May 29, 2014
Sing to Me Songs of Darkness
So I may better love my light.
And with it cast hope on a thousand nameless faces,
so I may better know their plight.
Its only right.
Amen.
Edited by Maggot.
(Apparently there was 7 instances of the term
'Fucking' in the original draft.)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lets take a peek into one of my cells...
"NO! You fuck off traitor! No wait, get CLOSER. I want to GOUGE your eyes out!"
"Shhh, Shh, Shhh.... calm down doll face."
"DOLL face? Is that a crack at my FACE?!" screamed Picasso as she slammed herself hard against the bars of her cell, reaching out as far as she could at grasping at the air to try to grab Helrick. Helrick, startled by the violent outburst, back up against the wall behind him to get away from her. "Stop MOVING you fucking COWARD! I'm gonna rip your THROAT out!"
"Stop it! Calm down. Keep it down!" he said looking around nervously, worried that all the noise might have already drawn too much attention to him. He was, after all, not supposed to be down there. "I meant it as a good thing! You have a pretty face, like a little doll you might buy at a toy store or something."
The statement made Picasso stop in her place. After a moments pause, she pulled her arm back into her cell and gave Helrick an angry look. "My face is NOT little," she huffed.
"But it is pretty..." said Helrick giving her a confused look.
"NO its NOT! Its all... mask face... and SHIT..."
"Your beauty shines through those pieces of mask. That's just how gorgeous you really are," said Helrick, stupidly reaching though the bars to put his not claw hand on the piece of mask that covered her cheek. And for a moment, Picasso looked take back by this as she brought her hand up to meet his hand. Then she screamed and grabbed his wrist and threw all her weight back backward, slamming Helrick hard against the cell bars. He fell hard on his ass and scrambled back away from her to safety.
I could see he took this as rejection, but knowing Picasso as well as I do if she wasn't moved by his advances she probably would have snapped his neck.
"Fuck," whined Helrick, grasping his head with his good hand where it had been slammed against the bars.
"FUCK YOU ASSHOLE. You don't get to try to make nice with me after ABANDONING ME, siding with FUCK FACE, and then BETRAYING AND KIDNAPPING ME."
"FUCK YOU ASSHOLE. You don't get to try to make nice with me after ABANDONING ME, siding with FUCK FACE, and then BETRAYING AND KIDNAPPING ME."
"Picasso," he said groaning and then pushing himself to his feet. "What I did is for the best. You need help. You're sick. Fracture can help you."
"OH MY GOD YOU TRUST THAT LYING PIECE OF SHIT! You're so FUCKING sheep! Baaaaww! BAAAAWW I say!"
"What... is... you're making the noise wrong. Its Bahahahw. You have to reverberate the-"
"FUCK YOU, I know what sound a sheep makes. I can hear YOU talking. BAW is what I hear. BAWWW."
"Right... Picasso. Hes gonna help you, and when you're better-"
"Hes not gonna HELP me. Hes gonna REPROGRAM me. Hes gonna bring whisper in, and they're gonna take me to the fucking WHITE room and then do his MIND FUCK thing and make me into an OBEDIENT little doll again. And its gonna be YOUR fucking FAULT. YOU. YOU HAVE DONE THIS TO ME. Hes gonna hollow me out and fill me with fluff like a FUCKING POSSUM and use me for a FUCKING PAPER weight because YOU fucking BETRAYED ME."
"... When you're better-"
"I WON'T be."
"I'll make this all up to you. I promise."
"I WON'T be."
"I'll make this all up to you. I promise."
"Helly, when this fails and I break out of here, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU."
"When this works and you're better-"
"THEN I'LL STILL FUCKING KILL YOU!" she said slamming herself against the bars again and grasping at Helrick once more. Helrick jumped back out of her reach and sighed, shaking his head before giving up and leaving.
"THEN I'LL STILL FUCKING KILL YOU!" she said slamming herself against the bars again and grasping at Helrick once more. Helrick jumped back out of her reach and sighed, shaking his head before giving up and leaving.
"I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU!" called Picasso after him, jumping on the bars to her cell door and shaking the door like a lunatic.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Picasso and Moth are so convinced I did this to her on purpose. That I'm some sort of monster. But I'm not. I, like them, am just a... little unique.
I am doing this to help Picasso. Yes, I was trying to get Moth to talk in the memory he retold in that post, but it wasn't something sinister. I wasn't trying to make what was going to happen to Picasso his fault. I didn't even know what was gonna happen to her. I don't entirely understand why I was made to do it if her current state of being was gonna be the result. Its not exactly a usual change.
It made her unwarrantably violent and completely unmanageable. But its what Father wanted, to take her to see the Bleeding Tree...
I... I've seen the tree many times. Its the stepping stone I use to travel through the path as fast as I do... I never... never freaked out like Zero and Picasso did... right? I've... always been me... I think.
Its all very concerning. I was fortunate enough to have Whisper under my employ. His words mesmerize and brainwash those who can't escape them. If he tells you to do something, you have to do it. If he tells you to think something, you have to think it. Even if you he wasn't talking to you. If you hear him say it, its all over.
He calls it the voice of Father. I'm one of five people hes met since he got the gift that was completely unaffected by it. We're not sure what causes certain people to be resistant. The only other person hes been kind enough to tell me about is David. Which isn't surprising. David Banks in inherently immune to so such shit his blood may very well cure cancer.
We'd been using whisper to bring the real Picasso out. That's the point of this. To bring her in so whisper can push the Tree's madness back down as much as possible and bring the real her, the her I met, back into the light.
And once shes thinking with her right mind, once shes herself, she'll talk Moth back into line for us. Hes infatuated with her, even if he won't admit it. No one else will have to die, and I'll have to two ungrateful little shits I helped save back.
The Lord Guardian Fracture Out
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)