Saturday, December 15, 2012

Cult Page Update #1

Hollows and Gentle Proxies, I am pleased to bring you the Launch of the Free Market's Cult Page!

Currently residing on this page are recruitment Ads for the Fire and Mask Cults.

Do they not sound familiar? That's because they both died out some time ago. But as luck would have it, I brought in a member from each cult before the cults collapsed in on themselves leaving me with a unique opportunity to start them back up a new.

Anyone who has read Duckie's story will remember he talked about them. He wasn't actually a member of either of them because they weren't around anymore but he really took their philosophies to heart. So if you remember Duckie spewing out some nonsense and thought to yourself 'I can really get behind that ridiculous mouthful of crazy shit', then you should look them up because you are exactly what they are looking for.

Seriously, I won't judge you for it.

As stated on the bottom of that page, if you have a cult of your own that you would like to advertise then shoot us an e-mail telling us about it and if we feel it serves Father, or if you can afford the advertising fees to put it up on the page if it doesn't serve father, we'll put it up on the Free Market's Cult Page for the world to see. 

Praise Slender Man!

Fracture Out.

Saturday, December 8, 2012

Bounty Hunter Update #1 - Emily

I'm sure some of you may be wondering why Emily (A.K.A "Take the Myth" 's Em) is still on the bounty board after she allegedly died. That's a simple one, they found no body.

No body, no death. Not in this game. It's never so simple.

I can promise you one thing though, she isn't in Germany and she most certainly isn't in any castles in Germany. Believe me, we checked. The man hours we put into that search could have relieved  an entire hospital for a week. Real pity considering.

But she's still out there and the bounty still stands.

Remember. We want her alive.

Happy hunting.


Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Something New

Ladies and gentlemen please, would you bring your attention to me? This is like nothing you've ever seen before! Your jaws will soon be on the floor and after this you'll be begging for more.


I bring you the Free Market. And it comes complete with a Shop and a Bounty Board and has even more Goodies on the way.

From now on, this blog serves a new purpose as a news station for the Free Market. Questions and Updates will be presented here as they are warranted. I know many of you are lost and confused with the loss of the Organization. Let us help you find new direction to better serve Father.

But fear not. We will not make the same mistakes of our 

Working with the Free Market is optional. This is a service for those who serve Father, to help you do what needs to be done in his name. We do hope you'll let us help you.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

There once was a proxy named Duck

And at the man Loveless he struck

But the moment he did

His boss tore him to bits

Now that is some terrible luck

Gotta admit, that is some serious loyalty in the face of something that hates you. I'm supposed to give you all a full report, but Fracture seems to be gunning for my job. Which means I'm just here to confirm it. We've found what remains of his remains. Ugly Duck is dead.

Rest in pieces

                -The Messenger

Monday, October 1, 2012

True Creation Requires Sacrifice

Such is the gospel of the Flame. Preferably your sacrifice though, not mine.

Designation ‘Fracture’ here using a combination of recorded audio, stolen video tapes, and photographic memory to recount the events leading to the end of Experiment 926. I believe the experiment proved itself to be a complete success but I suppose that’s a truly hollowed victory at this point.

Actual Retelling:

Subject 926, Duckie/Ugly Duck, was in rare form today. Despite his injuries he proved to be quite the killing machine. He was right, when we arrived on location we found we had waited far too long to follow up on our attack. The site our dear highest was hiding out at was crawling with proxies who were trying hard not to act like they were on patrol. It was, after all, still an office building pretending to be a legitimate business but the panic was obviously there. I snuck in and shut off the lights. I heard some yelling in some of the neighboring rooms immediately. When I got back to Duckie I was informed that some of the pitiful proxies they had guarding the place immediately fled the scene when the lights went out.

Duckie seemed to think most of the buildings defenses would be composed of rookies and virtually anyone else the desperate highest could get his hands on to defend himself with. If they had anyone who could actually fight, they’d probably be right there with the highest leaving no one to direct the nosebleeds.

And as far as I could tell, Duckie was right. There were large gaps in their patrols, some places were over fortified leaving other key locations complete unguarded, and even when they did see us coming they didn’t know what to do with us. Most confrontations, as we stormed the place, ended in Duckie disemboweling a poor terrified moron whose only course of action seemed to be to run at him with a knife.

Those with guns proved to be, as Duckie put it, predictable.

There was one situation as we approached the control room where we were surrounded by 12 of them. I stepped back and let Duckie take care of it. Three lunged in to stab him. Duckie dodged it and pushed one to stab into the other.  The frightened stupid fuck started stabbing his buddy. They ended up killing each other.

Trying to avoid a repeat accident they started making swings at Duckie instead. Duckie gracefully dodged several blows returning every other attack with a slash of his own. By the time the remaining ten were done the hall was beginning to pool with their blood. Those unfortunate enough not to receive a fatal wound were left to bleed in the hall.

We secured and locked away sever key locations for our final assault on the top floor. As a security measure, it had to be accessed by elevator (Not sure how that got past building regulations) and we had to secure the generator that powered the that elevator, the control room that worked it, cut off secondary control access from other terminals, and convince the security protocols to initiate a hard reset after which Duckie and myself were named as the only authorized personnel who could influence the system. Did I say we? I. I did all that. Duckie fucking killed things all day. Without me he’d probably have been gassed in the elevator on the way up and woke up in time to be slowly skinned alive.

Anyways, after all the tedious little tasks were taken care of to make sure we could actually survive our trip up, it was time to ride the elevator.



“What’s the point of all this?”

“I thought that didn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t. But I would still like to know. Why are we doing this, killing a highest? Does the Master really care about trivial fucking politics?”

“Does Father care? Probably not. In fact I can tell you right now, no. No he does not.”

“Then again, why the fuck are we doing this?”

“Because I believe this will leave future Brothers and Sisters in a better place to serve Him. Without a soulless organization to burden and conform them, they could more easily foster into something new. Something the organization couldn’t have thought up on their own. Something useful for Father.”

“The Fire cult.”

“Yes, like the fire cult only less traitorous and hopefully far less insufferable. If the organization hadn’t shut those assholes down, I might have done it myself.”

I was then thrown into the wall with a solid fucking punch.


“So to better serve proxies so they could better serve the Master, we killed a bunch of them?”

“Nobody important, or else they probably wouldn’t have died. This is an important undertaking and we’re still within acceptable losses.”

“If this task is so important, why did you have Moth kill Firecracker?”

“I didn’t.”

“I know you did. You knew it was going to happen.”

“How could I possibly?”

“I don’t know, but I know you knew. You have a tell.”

“A tell?”

“Yes, a tell. Whenever something happens that you weren’t expecting, you adjust your glasses as if you were adjusting them to better take in a part of the world you had missed, like you are adjusting them to better fit an entirely new understanding on the world.”

“How very fucking poetic of you.”

“So why?”

“I didn’t set that up Duckie boy and if I had I wouldn’t ever tell you. But if I had, I would guess my reasoning would sound something like, ‘For fun.’”

This earned me another punch.

I was a bit dazed after that and I almost missed the sound of crunching bones and screaming from directly above us followed by a few thuds.

“No way,” I said as I unloaded both of my pistols into the roof of the elevator above us.

Duckie opened the hatched and what I saw confirmed some of my suspicions. Several proxies tried ambush us from the elevator roof using the path as there shouldn’t have been any other way onto the the elevator roof after all those security measures I took. Further proof was found later when I was inspecting the bodies and discovered one of the corpses was missing his lower body and an arm. I believe the arm was crushed into the elevator on landing. I think he lost the lower half of his body when the portal he was using abruptly closed on him after it made contact with the elevator, fascinating stuff. More evidence was evident from the fact that several of our would be ambushers died from falling from too high and plowing into the elevator.

The elevator opened to gunfire. Fortunately we weren’t there, we were on top of the elevator. I dropped down while they were reloading and let a flash bang fly. After it went off Duckie swept in and killed the hostiles.

Just one door stood between us as the highest we had been hunting. I was very relieved when we opened the door to find he was actually in there and there wasn’t just a bomb waiting for us or something because that’s probably what I would have done.

Duckie moved to step in but stopped, a painful chill clearly running down his spine.

“A loop?”


“Very clever Frank. Can’t get anything past you, apparently.”

Across the room sat the highest we had been hunting for, David Walters. Better known as Loveless to those actually authorized to know.

“You certainly never could.”

He had a proxy with him. An aged man and probably well trained, his eyes told me as much. He was a maskless like Firecracker was but he was much higher ranking then her, his mask shards had meaningful markings and symbols and some where cracked in new places.

“Bought yourself an assassin huh? Let’s see if he’s any good. Cover me Duckie, I’m going to root the room in reality,” I said and took a knee behind cover and started to focus.

“Oh no you don’t. Frenchy, kill them,” said Loveless as he started to focus in an effort to counteract me.

It was going to come down to Duckie and the Maskless. That probably should have been a climactic epic moment in which both of them fought with everything they had to see who was better and secure victory and I do believe the Maskless thought so as well as he ran towards Duckie to participate in that fight. That didn’t happen though.

Duckie drew his gun as fast as he could and gunned the Maskless down. Three shots: Liver, heart, and head. The Maskless went down hard.

Startled, Loveless lost his focus and I ripped apart his loop. Funny thing about loops, never sure what they’re going to do. There was a lot of backlash and far as I could tell it all hit me. I was thrown on my ass and was bleeding from my eyes with a gash up my arm. I’m lucky it wasn’t worse than that I guess.

Without the loop, the room was bare, just Loveless, the desk, and a chair. He hadn’t even bothered to paint the damn wall. Guess he figured he wouldn’t ever have to. He could always change them if he wanted to with a thought.

“Any last words, highest?”

“…Yes,” he said pulling a gun and firing off a few rounds.

Duckie dodged most of them as he closed in and pressed the highest to the wall, knife at his throat.

“I’m waiting for them,” Duckie said as a cut on his cheek that resulted from a bullet grazing it closed shut right before Loveless’ very eyes.

“Are you…,” he said making a gesture with his hands that sent Duckie flying back into the desk, “…wearing a loop? How peculiar,” he said making several move hand gestures, each one ripping open Duckie’s flesh.

“Such potential… and all you’ve been using it for is to graft your skin closed when you get a little boo-boo haven’t you?” he said squeezing his hand closed causing Duckie to start vomiting violently. “Tisk, tisk. No imagination.”

Duckie forced himself to his feet. Loveless made a gesture and Duckie was knocked back on his ass but Duckie forced himself back up. Loveless kept making gestures. Duckies flesh would bend, rip, and rend but he would not go down again.

“What the hell do you think are you doing, die already!” complained Loveless as his gestures got more frantic. Duckie forcibly picked up his knife. I could see Loveless was now trying to stop Duckie’s hand and when that didn’t work he was trying to push him back. I desperately wanted to help push Duckie forward but I couldn’t think very hard without wanting to start ripping my own hair out.

Slowly Duckie forced himself forward and dispite Loveless clearly trying as hard as he could to stop Duckie with his control over Duckies loop, Duckie kept getting closer until he was just inches away. Desperate, Loveless reached for his gun but in the moment that he dropped his focus to do so Duckie ripped his throat open.

Loveless fell to the floor gasping for breath and then quickly bled out.

Duckie crumpled over in pain and dug a knife into his own arm. “Fuck… off!” he yelled and twisted the knife. I watched a wave of energy ripple over him and then violently tear at him shredding and scarring his flesh and leaving him looking much more like he did before he died and came back with a perfect complexion. In fact, I think he looked even worse. As if all those cuts and scars he should have been given over these last six months had all suddenly appeared. Once again, Ugly Duck was ugly and his loop was gone.

We were still for a little while after that. I think we were both surprised he was alive. But I guess that’s what Duckie does. He kills and survives. Eventually he forced himself to his feet and over to the oversized window so he could look out on the city and its lights.

“Worst last words ever,” he said and then started to laugh. I couldn’t help but laugh with him. I stood up too and moved over to the door way to get a better look at him.

“You did a great job Duckie. I’m proud of you.”

“That… that means a lot… I guess.”

“That makes this next part difficult.”

He laughed again for a moment but stopped when I didn’t start laughing with him.

“Oh, you’re serious? You really think you can take me after all this Fracture? Just going to kill me to tie up loose ends as you secure your own position as a new Highest? You’re as bad as the rest of these sick fucks,” said Duckie as he turned his mangled face to face me. “I’m g-,” he said and then abruptly stopped.

“Yeah…” I said scratching the back of my neck and looking away before turning to face Duckie again.

“Believe me, I would have preferred to keep you but this comes right from the top,” I said knowing full well Father was right behind me. I could feel he was eager. Father ripped into the back of my left shoulder urging me to hurry up.

“I… don’t understand.”

“Does it matter?” I asked moving over to him, limping from exhaustion. “I’m going to level with you Duckie. Your master, he hates you. He hates you so much. The bureaucracy is all that made you viable as an agent, because then he didn’t have to see you or be around you. And even if we could arrange someone to relay orders to you, he’s tired of you. I know you’ve been improving. I know it’s unfair that this happened after you stopped fighting me every step of the way over every little order. But this isn’t about fair. This is about Him.”

“I… I understand,” he said as he started to bleed from his nose. I looked back over to Father and sure enough their presence in the same room was starting to have an adverse effect on both of them. I watched as Father blinked out of existence for a moment and then blinked back in making an awkward, stiff,  and sudden motion. Duckie started to bleed from his eyes.

“You could fight this Duckie. You could run. Because you’re you, maybe, just maybe, you could fight this and win,” I said as I discretely got my knife out, ready to end this if he made the wrong decision.

He didn’t respond though, not with words at least. He punched me, hard, and knocked me on my ass.

“Never…,” he said and started to stumble over to Father. I sat up and adjusted my glasses.

“I-I…. s-serve…” he said and forced himself down on a knee.

Finally, Father’s tendrils descended upon him. Duckie screamed as every little piece of him that made him who he was got  slowly ripped away from him and violent shredded leaving little more than a husk and blood where a loyal man once stood.

“Happy now?”

“No, that was not sass. That was a serious question. I did make you wait some twenty years for this after all. That’s kind of a long time.”

“Hehe. Yeah, I guess not. Relativity is a bitch. What now?”

“Understood, I will proceed.”

“Goodbye for now.”

“Guess I should clean this up…”

And so I did.

Fracture Out.

Friday, September 28, 2012

When There’s Nothing But Pain, It All Feels The Same


I guess that’s going to require more elaboration. First off, the mission was an absolute success. The heart was reportedly destroyed by Fracture and I’m just going to assume that’s true because even if it isn’t, I’m sure it’s at least somewhere where my prey can’t get at it and I can always kill Fracture later to make sure nobody knows where it is. There were some complications. Most notably: some heavy blood loss, two bullet wounds that had to have the bullets dug out, and muscle tearing!

Feeling woozy again.

Okay, feeling a little better and the shock is starting to wear off. Now I’m just fucking angry again.

More complications,
Firecracker is dead, probably. She took a bullet to heart and fell out of a window but the last time I personally killed her I slit her ankles and throw her off of an even taller building than the one we were in so I have no fucking idea if she’s even dead. It was a little heart wrenching to watch all the same; mostly because it was Trent who shot her. And it was deliberate to spite me. Shoot her to spite me, fucking proxy logic. I don’t know where he is now. He made his escape into the path when he realized he wasn’t winning his fight with me. Fucking coward. I can only assume he hasn’t actually defected but I don’t actually fucking know.

I suppose I should actually explain things.

Everything was swell at first. Fracture and Firecracker snuck into the facility. I asked Fracture how later but his answer amounted to “Somehow.” Kind of get the feeling there is so much more to get but he’s being stubborn as fuck.

While they were doing that, Trent and I snuck around the outside part of the facility and silently slit some throats.  The funny thing about stealthy security details is they never seem to expect an ambush, they’re always far too busy planning ambushes against potential security risks. The twelve of them went down relatively easy. Trent got sloppy. He accidentally let one of the patrol teams get the jump on him instead. Cost me three of my bullets to fix the problem. He was lucky the rest of the patrolling squads had already been dealt with or we would have had a series situation on our hands.

(In hindsight, I shouldn’t have saved Trent because he’s a spiteful fucking traitor!)

After that we moved to the front door. A little while later Fracture threw the front door open for us. Firecracker was reportedly out and about blocking off exits for the killing spree we were about to bring in.

“Any sign of the target?”

“Not yet. I’m thinking it might have its own security detail a few floors below ground level.”

“Think you can clear that while we take care of everything up here?”

“Does the pope shit in the woods?”

“Not if the Master hasn’t gotten him yet but I’ll take that as a yes.”

Once Firecracker showed up we started taking sweeps of the floors. It was dark, Firecracker had apparently cut the primary power and what was running was functioning off of auxiliary power sources. Fracture revealed later that that was how he found the servers he was looking for, because four auxiliary generates turned on and only one of them was powering the top half of the building.

We were quiet as we made our sweeps across the building. There were only a few well trained fighters inside the actual building. The only people who put up any real fight were a few people on the top floor. The head of security and a makeshift fortification of people he railed around himself when he figured out what was going on. I took two bullets when we came upon them, I was lucky it wasn’t a lot worse than that. We ended up tear gassing that area. There wasn’t much fight left in them after that. Not my kind of tactic but I figured this wasn’t a simple assassination anymore; this was something closer to war.

I got a call from Fracture a little while later. He informed me he had found and destroyed the servers all the data was running through and had disabled the secondary servers. I probably would have questioned him more on that matter but I could hear someone begging that they finally be allowed to be put to death on the other side of the phone and figured he was busy.

I had just hung up the phone when everyone’s attention was called to an unfamiliar voice on the other side of them room. I drew my gun as I turned.

“You know, you sicken me,” said the voice. The words sounded funny, like the speaker was learning how to say them as he spoke them. Like talking didn’t come natural.

I turned to find it was Trent. He had a gun drawn in one hand and a knife in the other. I hurt myself shifting my weight onto my bullet wound to look.


“Stop calling me that! That’s not my fucking name,” he said pointing the gun. His aim was off. I didn’t flinch.

“What is your name them? I’d like to know who I’m about to kill.”

“Moth,” he said, “You named me Moth.” I froze as he pulled off his mask and lifted his hair to reveal his ear. It was still missing a piece from where I had cut out a wedge shaped chunk from it.

“Goodbye,” he said and then fired a shot. I heard a louder noise of the window behind me shattering than should have resulted from a single bullet and turned just in time to catch a glimpse of firecracker crashing through and falling out the window.

“What the fuck?!”

He just stared at me like he didn’t understand the question.

“Why her. Your beef is with me.”

“Because I know it wounds you. It hurts you so much more than you care to admit. Because you’re weak. Because you’re an overly sentimental fuck who screams about how me wants to kill everyone around him but would sooner see them alive and well. Who calls for the death of every living being but cries after every death. Who preaches freedom but acts like an obedient dog. Who takes in children after he’s done murdering their mothers right in fucking front of them and then passes them along to be executed as soon as it is requested of him without putting up so much as a fucking fight!”

I was crying. I don’t know what hit harder, that Firecracker died over this stupid shit or that he was right.  But I knew one thing, he needed to die and he needed to die right fucking now before he caused anymore problems to the mission.

My body practically started moving on its own. It knew what to do at this point even when I myself was reluctant to. He fired a few shots, he missed. I closed in for a killing blow. He blocked it with his mask. It cracked down the side. I saw fear in his eyes and he dove through a window. I looked over the ledge in time to see he had caught onto something and used the path to drop out of the situation. I fired a shot but I think I only grazed him as he disappeared.

That was when the pain kicked in. All that movement forced the wounds open. I had to sit down so they could close. Lost quite a bit of blood there. Not long after all that Fracture showed up.

“What the fuck happened to you? Where are the kids?”

“Firecracker went out that window and her killer, Trent, took that one as his getaway.”

He looked at both the windows and then offered a hand. “Do we proceed with the mission as planned?”

“Oh stop Fracture, your concern is fucking overwhelming. Let’s get to a safe place. Need to patch up.”

And then he drove me here, wherever here is.

We can’t stay here much longer though. Our window of opportunity on that highest is closing fast. Hell, it might already be closed.

Need to keep moving, injuries or not.

Fracture here.

The above was written by Duckie over the last few days as he slowly recovered from the incident with Moth. I would like to point out that the above was not incredibly sensible before I got my hands on it. It is a product of my editing.

I should explain who Moth is I guess?

Moth was a brat Duckie took in early on in his career as a collector. At the time Duckie had a rule against killing children under the age of 12 and after killing poor Moth’s mommy Duckie decided to take Moth with him until he turned 12 so he could kill him.

I can’t say if Duckie would have gone through with it. Reports on Duckie from that time frame serve to imply that Duckie actually found himself rather attached to the child after a month of traveling with him and teaching him how to hunt and kill.

What happened serves to imply that Duckie very well may have killed the kid when the time came. Believing the kid to be a detriment to Duckie’s activities as a collector, Duckie received an order demanding he immediately had over the child to the nearest cult down so he may be used as a sacrifice fitting for Father. As the report states, ‘Duckie handed the child over without a word.’ That may sound harsh but Duckie didn’t do much talking in those days.

Off of the official records though, Duckie did spend the next therapy session crying but refused to state why. I assumed it was some kind of PTSD at the time, but greater perspective from the official records would serve to imply that this was due to the loss of Moth but that is, and likely will always be, pure speculation.

On a more current note,
Duckie is still in shit condition both physically and, as I am beginning to find out, mentally.  He’s not in fighting shape. Surgery was required to remove those bullets and he is still very much recovering from it. He however insists that we proceed with the operation anyways claiming,
“We have to act now!”

If that wasn’t bad enough, I’ve heard him talking to himself. And I looked into it, there was no one else in his room living, Slender, or otherwise. Just him. I can hear him doing it again now.

“I remembered my song. Shall I sing it for you? It starts ‘La, la la,’ remember? I miss you.”

Its really fucking disturbing.

I’m worried he won’t survive this. I’m even more worried of what the fuck he’s going to become if he does.

By the time this posts, we’ll have already set out to slay the highest.
Cross your fingers, ankles, knees, elbows, ears, eyes, and toes for us. We’re apparently going to need it.

Fracture out and Ugly Duck out of his fucking mind, apparently.

Sunday, September 23, 2012

I Press on and Fight With All of My Might

Upon reflection, I think it might have been a good thing that Fracture never told me who I was actually fighting. I am, after all, the blogger in this set and what the organization knows of us, that isn’t covered in standardized forms and papers, comes from this blog. I think he wanted it to earnestly read in my writings that I thought I was just pursing business as usual but now that I know what we’re actually doing I know it doesn’t matter what mind games we try to play. We tried that kind of shit a half decade back with the Bureau wanna-bes and it didn’t fucking work, nearly all of us died taking them down.

Fracture had a whole campaign planned to peel at a division of the Bureaucracy from its roots up slowly. I know better than anyone that if you’re going to fight an opponent more powerful than yourself you can’t pussy foot around. You have to strike first and fast and you have to make sure that what you struck is vital and crippling, so much so that there is no doubt that if you were to walk away after that the entity you were fighting would fall apart and die on its own.

Not possible in this case. It’s going to take two strikes to bring just this division to its knees and, while I hate to admit it, that effective a strike is only possible because of Fracture. The information we’ve been collecting from our marks combined with what I can only get Fracture to refer to as ‘other sources’ has revealed what I was able to identify as a serious flaw in this division's chain of command. It is very much like a heart. Literally everything gets filtered through it and if you destroy it, this division will be no more. With the information we pull from it I bet we can even find other vulnerable spots across the rest of the Bureaucracy to bleed them dry from.

Once we rip into the heart all that will be left is to strike at the head and take out their highest. With the source of their orders taken out the division should crumble and with no database to draw from it would take literally years for the other divisions to recount and collect the assets this will put them out of contact with.

This very well may only work once and they’ll probably only give us one chance at this but god damn it are they going to feel this!

I’m not even going to be sorry if I die from this. This is a real fight, a worthy fight!

By the time this posts, we’ll have already set out for the mission. We might even be done already. We will either be dead or an entire division of the proxy hierarchy will be thrown into disarray.

Ember, I love you.

Ugly Duck out!

Thursday, September 20, 2012

Fire is Light…

… from which the truth must ignite.

So apparently Picasso made her own account. As far as I can tell she doesn’t have a blog and she doesn’t have any followers but she has an account. All the better to rant with, I suppose. To those who are curious as to why she keeps calling West a bear, it’s because he looks like one.  That asshole is a big burly, nightmarish beast in both stature and muscle mass. I’d dare say he is far more muscle than man if I thought that sentence would make any sense.

Limb snapping Maniac.

Speaking of betrayers,
I keep breaking my oath of silence. I don’t remember not talking being so difficult. I remember when I didn’t need words for anything and there wasn’t a situation I couldn’t wear a mask for. I remember when writing felt like a moral sin to my oath that I only practiced in an effort to finish the stories of the slain. Now it’s a mandatory fucking order that I stick on an imaginary wall for all of the world to see. When did I become so weak and co-dependent?

I bet getting me to break my oath was Fracture’s plan. He just kept calling me a dog until I snapped.
That fucker showed up to help with clearing the list. He didn’t actually get to help us though. I beat the shit out of him while yelling something to the effect of, “CALL ME A DOG ONE MORE TIME AND I WILL FUCKING END YOU.”

When I was done he disappeared. He popped out like he likes to do. Such a cowardly fucking ability. I use to hate that I wasn’t allow to path around like I see so many other proxies do, Firecracker and Trent included, but this talking thing has shown me that it would only be another crutch. At the end of the day I’m better off without it.

I suppose I’m burying the lead here though.
My list has once again been cleared and all six marks are once again dealt with. We used actual planning this time around. We scouted out each mark and figured out where each one slept and took out every single one of them within the same hour once we had their patterns down well enough. We left them no time to find out something was wrong and regroup. There was just swift silent death. Not the kind of death I prefer to give but at the end of the day it’s about results. Besides, I have weak ass squad mates to keep alive. Trent and Firecracker almost didn’t survive our last head on fight with a group so it’s best we play it safe… for now.

That’s not to say none of them put up a fight.
That first guy woke up as Trent and I were sneaking up. He grabbed a knife from under his pillow and rushed into the doorway to use as a choking point to fight us from, which wasn’t a bad strategy and he was a rather competent at defending himself with a knife.

The greatest problem with that strategy is you root yourself to the ground and make yourself inflexible. I may not have been able to penetrate his pillar of defense but by god I could knock it over, and so I did. I plowed into him and ripped his knife away from him once I had him pinned to the ground. And that was when the little girl came out.

“Sally dear, run!”

Little Sally Newbery, the whole reason we hit this house first and I came to handle it personally.

I pointed at her and tapped the crack in my mask to indicate she was to be taken to Fracture rather than harmed. I turned to finish her dad when I heard a stomping noise behind me. I turned to find Trent madder than I had ever seen him before. No longer did his eyes appear cold and soulless. I saw rage, pure fiery rage.

He dove onto the little girl and forced his knife into her and then let her drop as he pulled her dad over to him and disappeared with him into the path.

I went over to her. She was dying.

“Where is father…?” she forced out coughing, clinging onto me.

I figured I had already broken my oath once today, no harm in doing it again. So I started to answer, “He-”
But I was interrupted.

“Daddy said Father would keep us safe… h-help me, f-father…”

And then she went still. I let her drop again. I didn’t have time to process that information. Assuming Firecracker had taken out her first mark, there were still three more marks left and with Trent gone in such a huff I had to make sure they all went down before too much time had passed.

Fortunately Trent showed back up as his soulless empty self again and everyone signaled in their success. Besides that first encounter with Sally and her dad, there were no notable incidents to report.

I was curious why this group didn’t seem to have a base of some sort like the last one until I went back to investigate Sally’s house. I found their basement had been turned into a bunker complete with another small armory, an array of computers, and a table with a dissected body laying across it.

Further inspection confirmed my fears. Trent tried to hide it but I found a little mask in Sally’s room and another mask in her fathers. And then I barged in on Firecracker trying to hide away the other 4 masks form the other four marks. These people were proxies and apparently I was the only one who wasn’t aware of it.

Trent and Firecracker both drew their weapons.
I hadn't actually been planning to fight them but if they were so eager I was happy to oblige. I won’t get deep into the details of that one. The cliff notes are I tazed the shit out of Trent and planted my fist into Firecrackers gut and left her winded. With the stooges taken care of it was time to pay Fracture a visit.

I found him at our agreed rendezvous point interrogating Sally’s dad. He was quick to put a gag in his mouth when I came in.

“Shouldn’t you be out collecting information for me?”

I threw out Sally’s mask for him to see.

“I knew she was going to ruin this for me. It’s always the children with you Duckie, ever since Moth.”

I punched the wall hard at the mention of that name. He recoiled back, the memory of his beating fresh in his head.

“Settle down boy… that wasn’t intentional! Don’t hit me!”  he yelled as I cracked my knuckles.

“So you found out. So what? Does this change anything? I’m still the one who gives you your orders. Are you going to start questioning them again?”

I stopped.

“And it’s not as though we don’t have the Master’s blessing. I mean just look back at today. You saw me pop away. I couldn’t do that if I had fallen out of grace.”

I tilted my head.

“Confused? It’s because you’re still questioning and fighting things, still holding back which is so ironic coming from captain let lose! Just let go and be happy. I know your feelings on the Bureaucracy. I think it’s time you made good on expressing them without words like I know you like to.”


“Why what?”

“Why was this kept from me if you knew I would be on board?”

“For fun. I wanted to test all that conviction you like to claim you have. You’ve already started on this with me. Got to finish it now, isn’t that right?”

I punched the wall again. “…Yes.” And then left.

It’s bothersome how incredibly in my head he seems to be which wouldn't be half as bad if it wasn't for that insufferable fucking grin of his.

Back to work I suppose, I have an accidental rebellion to fight.
Ugly Duck out.

Friday, September 14, 2012

An Unknown

Well it seems I was wrong. I made a comment on Ember’s blog the other day stating my distain for chess metaphors because they don’t really apply in the whole mask/jogger dynamic, in my opinion at least. About an hour later Trent showed up and handed me an open laptop with a game preloaded and set up.

I’m not really much for games but the title on the top little bar for the game read ‘Slender Chess’ and the opposing player’s name thing read ‘frac.4.ture’.  Figured I might was well try, if for no other reason to see if I couldn’t get something to rub in Fracture’s stupid grinning face the next time I see him.

The game was about what you would expect. It was chess with the Master sitting in the middle of the board as a small figurine with many tendrils coming off of his back. For some reason we weren’t white and black, our pieces were orange and blue. The only white and black piece was the Master and he was both. I also noticed that I had an extra Pawn and an extra Queen piece. My guess was that was necessary to spread the board out wider so there was a middle place for the Master, although Fracture explained it as never being able to have enough Queens. Makes sense I guess; those are powerful pieces.

Every round I would get a turn, Fracture would get a turn, and then the Master would get a turn. The Master piece was weird. I would move next to another piece each turn. It didn’t seem to have any movement restrictions. It went where it wanted to.  After a few rounds it started killing pieces. After it moved next to them it would step into their square and then rip them apart in a slow and rather gruesome animation. It didn’t do that often though, just occasionally.

Then occasionally a piece it moved next to would turn black and start attacking the other pieces. I tried attacking the Master with a pawn at one point. The pawn died. It entered the Masters square and was ripped to shreds. I tried it with a queen too.  It was a bit gorier the second time. I did note I could kill the black pieces though, although if they were closer to Fractures side I tried to leave them be in hopes they would pick on him instead. I had some mixed results there.

At one point I moved a Knight next to the Master and watched as my piece killed over for what seemed to be no apparent reason. I accused Fracture of cheating. He explained that some people simply can’t stand in the presence of the Master because it would kill them and apparently that Knight was one of those pieces. I’m pretty sure Fracture was covering his ass because he’s a dirty fucking cheater.

Also, the king became a lot less useless in this version. If you could move your king next to a blackened piece, it would turn to that king’s color. Fracture ended up with 3 Rooks at one point using that rule that he couldn’t be bothered to explain to me before he did it.

The game kind of felt like a big waste of time at the end. Neither Fracture nor I won. We had lost too many pieces and it turned into a Stalemate. Honestly, if the game had gone on any longer I think the black pieces would have checkmated us, you know if that was possible. Can’t be sure, it didn’t happen. Although the game did have some sort of point system because the numbers next to my name were bigger than Fracture’s at the end, so I guess I’ll take that as a victory.

That little game was so interesting I almost forgot just how mad at Fracture I was. I was reminded when he congratulated me on my victory.

'Good job mutt.' the message read.
That fucker keeps treating me like a dog and I don’t know where the fuck he’s getting it from. He just started doing it right out of the fucking blue. I’m kind of glad he isn’t here; I think I’d snap his neck… a couple of times.

“Be sure you stay out of those files pup, I can’t have you pawing your wet little nose into them and making a mess.”
Quite frankly, he’s lucky I didn’t send him a broken computer coated in Trent’s blood.

A part of me really wants to know what it is he thinks he can hide from me but at the end of the day it really doesn’t matter. I’ll not have myself fall back into petty little paranoid distractions.

I just need to focus on my actual mission.

Huh. New message from Fracture.

'Why are you still at the school mutt? Shouldn’t you be out hunting?'

And look at that, five new marks on the list… apparently they’ve been there since Wednesday.

...I really need to work on this focus thing. I blame Fracture.

Ugly D[og]k out! [Bark, Bark!]

Sunday, September 9, 2012

Feed Them to the Flame…

It’ll take away their pain.

This is operative Ugly Duck reporting in my progress in regards to what I have affectionately entitled, ‘Operation: Kreeger Fuckery’.

As of about twenty minutes ago Trent, Firecracker, and I have successfully cleared all six marks from my list which was a bit more of a hassle then I had originally thought it would be. First off, I had to do some driving to even get to these fuckers. For a second thing, these guys had way better security than what I’m use to seeing in my marks.

Most of the trash I’m sent after are living on roof tops or in alleys or the fucking bus. Most of them have a very limited arsenal of improvised weapons: Pipes, bats, canes, crowbars, ice picks, hammers, shovel, ect. I once had a guy try to fight me with a hose for some reason. Once I had effectively disabled him I went ahead and asked him, “what the fuck were you thinking trying to fight with a hose?” He just wheezed for air, desperately trying to grab at something to pull himself free. At the time I didn’t care enough to actually get a response but the question haunts me sometimes.

Fuck, rambling.
Right so most are restricted to improved and less than ideal implements for fighting back. Then you have those cocky fuckers who managed to get their hands on an actual weapon: Knife, gun, spear, sword, and the sort. Regardless of whether or not they can actually use what they got their hands on, having the item shows a certain level of resourcefulness and ingenuity and certainly seems to draw other to them and why not? They have weapon after all.

About 90% of the people I hunt fall in these two categories.

In my last category you have the actually dangerous people. Ex-proxies, rival cult members (Both in and out of service), ex-cops/military, hardcore LARP geeks, runners who have been left alive way to fucking long, and Konaa with whatever the fuck category he is supposed to be in because I don’t even know or care at this point.

People like this cover about 10% of my list at best.

… fuck. That whole thing was a tangent.
Point is, most of the people I deal with are pitiful with the occasional diamond in the rough thrown in. All six of these fuckers were well armed and perhaps more concerning, were waiting for me.

It took me about an hour to slip into what I can only describe to be an abandoned school turned into a fortress just to get to my first mark. There were security cameras everywhere. I wasn’t sure they were working camera until I was greeted with a knife as soon as I opened the door to the Principal’s office. Sloppy knife work. I used his own weight and momentum to twist his swing back into him. Used my own knife to gut him.  Hard to feel sorry for the guy, the room he came out of had guns in it.  With the advanced warning he received with cameras he should have tried to shoot me through the door or something. Shoulda, coulda, woulda.

I let Trent and Firecracker hunt down the next two marks on the list while I collected things from the fortress. Apparently they caught the first one prowling through an alley and ambushed her. They slit the second guy’s throat while he was sleeping.

Collections of items from the homes and possessions of these other two marks combined with what I had already figured out about the fortress revealed what I was afraid of. These targets were very closely related to each other. Numerous missed calls from the same numbers on the phones of all three burned marks meant they the other three marks not only knew something was wrong but were likely preparing for us. We had to strike now and fast before they could properly regroup.

And we did, or tried to.  They had an ambush prepared. We took out the blond and the guy with an eye patch with realative ease. I stabbed eye patch guy through his good eye and struck deep into his brain. We found out later his eye patch was actually covering a fully functioning eye and that he could see through the patch. Poor attempt at a psych-out I guess? Trent and Firecracker cornered and tazed the shit out of the blond.

The fight fell apart from there. After a bit of a back and forth with Firecracker and Trent, the last chick took out Firecracker with a roundhouse kick and then pinned Trent to the wall and was in the process of collapsing his throat when I finally finished with captain eye patch. Too much distance to cover to close in time, I fired a shot in the air to force her attention away from her prey which Trent used to kick himself free. I then fought the bitch on my own while Trent checked on Firecracker.

She was something fierce. Unfortunately for her, she was also incredibly fucking stupid.
To many openings in her technique, far to predicable movement patterns, and a tell I could probably spot from the other side of the room. Funny thing about adrenaline is you can’t seem to grasp just how much pain you should be in and just how much blood you’ve lost.

He wound up for a strike and in what I’m pretty sure she didn’t realize was going to be the last thing she ever did, she charged at me screaming, “Prepare to meet your maker!”

I tripped her. “Prepare to finish bleeding out.”

She struggled to stand up but she didn’t have it in her. “Wh-why….?”

I wanted to ask her why ask why but she was already gone. I'm sure that’s going to haunt me too.

Time to finish collecting information to send to Fracture I guess.

Trent and Firecracker should be on their way to him now with the blond for interrogations.

Ugly Duck out.

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

“I Just Want To Set The World On Fire...

…But first, I’m going to rip out your heart.”

Fracture should be shitting himself right about now.

Arbitrary news flash, Firecracker is back and bitchier than ever. It just wasn’t quite the same around here without a third untrustable subordinate to have to worry about. I say third because it occurs to me that I shouldn’t be trusting Trent.

I’m not sure how I overlooked that particular detail but it occurred to me recently that while Trent comes off as hollowed and harmless, there is still supposedly an actual person in there and not just any person. There’s supposedly a person whose life I changed in some way. So odds are about 99:1 that he secretly and ever silently wishes to gut me, which is about a point worse than the 98:2 odds of this in proxies I haven’t wronged in some way.

And you see, the more I think about it the more Trent reminds me of a proper mask. He doesn’t ever talk, he doesn’t make noise when he walks, he never fucking takes his mask off, and in hindsight I think he’s been scarring himself to teach himself lessons. I’m not sure why I thought he was doing that because he hated himself for being a hollow. Hollows can’t hate, they aren’t people after all. If he really is a Mask, that leaves some very interesting possibilities on who it could be if he's someone from my past.

I’m half tempted to sit down with Trent and skin him slowly for answers on who he is exactly but I recently gave up talking again. I would hate to fall back into the habit after I just gave it up.

On a far less trivial note, something seems to be up with my list again.
It’s not quite as bad as the never ending onslaught of red marks I had to deal with over a short period during the summer but it is just as alarming. My list has gone almost entirely empty. There are six people on it. Short of where to find them it has little to no information about them and each mark has a little post note informing me to collect and bring back as much information from the targets as physically possible following their termination, and if at all possible to have Trent and Firecracker bring one in alive for questioning.

This is starting to feel very Kreegery. I swear to god if I lose another entire week of my life, Trent dies.

Ugly Duck Out.

Friday, August 31, 2012

Proper Proxy Perspective

I've been putting this post off trying to make sense of everything, and by everything I do mean all of it.

Why am I alive when I am so very certain I died? Why have I become this mutated thing whose skin can bear no scars and tolerate no cuts?  How is Firecracker alive when I impaled her with a sword and threw her off a building some three years ago? If both of my new squad mates are supposed to be individuals from my past, then who the fuck is Trent? If attachment is weakness, than why did I seek out something to cling to? If Morningstar’s angelic little crusade is successful, what will become of me as a grunt who has always had to receive his orders from someone other than the Master? If everyone deserves to die, why did I hesitate for so long before every kill since my own death? Why was I so weak the dead had to hunt me down to remind me of my promise? For what possible fucking reason was I paired with a mad therapist whose sole function, as far as I can tell, is to tease and torment me until I’m about ready to kill him just to disappear until I’ve calmed down so he can do it again?

I can honestly say at this point that I wish I had never met Ember. I wish I had never sent that fucking e-mail. Because then I wouldn’t have to be trying to let Ember go now and Fracture wouldn’t have ever ruined Ember’s plan. And the most painful fucking thing about that is I can’t even be mad at him because he didn’t do anything that I wouldn’t have done myself if I had understood the full extent of Ember's rebellion because Ember isn't fighting the system for the Master like Morningstar is. Ember is fighting it in an effort to hurt the Master, a path I can’t fucking follow.

And I think I can’t help but hate Morningstar for his rebellion because I died trying to declare myself an independent. When they couldn’t stop me, the Master himself showed up and pulled me to pieces. What makes his ass so fucking special? Is it the scope? I was just trying to leave the bureaucracy’s shadow after all. I thought I could better serve the Master on my own. He wants to burn the fuckers down on his way out. I guess I just wasn’t as violent as I should have been. That’s a great lesion to try to take away from that. Don’t just burn your bridges on the way out, go ahead and burn the people on both sides of it, because fuck them.

I spent a lot of time trying to make sense of all of this bullshit. Why? What was the point of it all? What the fuck was the point of any of this? Why wasn’t I just left in the ground?

I was so confused until I read Lisa’s blog.
She had this stupid fucking question where she stopped to wonder what exactly was going to happen to her and could only decide on the fact that it was going to be something bad, something she didn’t want. But still she pressed on in her question on what exactly it was. I just had this one response ringing loud in my head the whole time I was reading it. Words I’ve told many a confused runner as they try to piece together why exactly I serve what they could only hope to understand was a monster. “Does it fucking matter?” Because it doesn’t, not for them at least. They’re going to die and knowing why wasn’t going to stop it. And the same went for Lisa. Something bad is going to happen to her regardless of what details she can work out. She thinks she’s fighting it by trying to figure out the details but she’s just playing into their fucking mind games. Those questions don’t actually have to have an answer; they just have to keep you busy till December.

And then I really thought about it and I realized that was the only answer I needed for my own stupid fucking questions and concerns. Doesn’t really fucking matter at this point? I am going to fucking die, that’s happening and as far as I’m concerned it’s happening soon, I don’t care how many months I’ve been saying that for. So fuck it. Fuck all of it. I’ve lost sight of what’s really important. The masters work. I just need to serve him and as long as I do I don’t need to give to shit about the answer to any question because then I can rest easy knowing that I’m doing my fucking job and as long as my list stands I’ll always have my orders on who to hunt. I’ll always have my answer on who deserves to die first.

And this same logic goes for Ember too! What do I care what Ember seems to think needs to be done? Does it even matter? As far as I’m concerned Ember is mine. Ember will always be MINE. Ember can do whatever for all I care because Ember will always be mine until the day the Master personally gets tired of ‘em and disposes of Ember his self. And until that day I’ll cut that anyone stupid enough to try to get between us, Ember included.

So fuck it all, I have my peace of mind and if the rest of you need more answers than that you can all go fuck yourselves.

Ugly Duck Out.

Friday, August 24, 2012

Cherry Topper

Call me sadistic or an ass for it, but I’ve got to say this has been a great few weeks.

After his time spent sleep deprived and on the run, subject 926 was brought back remotivated, in full swing, and in serious pain. It was a beautiful trifecta. I find it likely he had been holding back before now and trying to deal with a great number of conflicting emotions. He really is so much like those stupid fucking fire cultists. It was never good enough for them to be at war with the world, they had to be at war with themselves too. You never get anything done like that though.

Time to really test that new found conviction of Duckie’s.
As the cherry on top of the shake that is this fan-fucking-tastic week I have a great hidden truth to reveal to the world. ‘Ember Fay’ is a traitor. She’s been killing her Backers one by one. I’ve just sent Theta the proof, a picture of Ember attacking the now dead backer they called ‘Smith’ and a voiced confession by Ember herself. This is an official black listing. Ember Fay has defected and is not to be trusted. All active agents and personnel within our ranks must terminate Ember on sight or alert us to Ember’s presence so someone more capable can be sent to handle the situation. Failure to comply can and will result in your immediate termination. No more traitors will be tolerated to any extent.

God I love my job.
Fracture Out.

Sunday, August 19, 2012

[Dream Weaved]

"Imagine there's no sunlight... I wonder if you can? No source of warmth or guidance.
The darkened state of man."
-Duckie’s first words after some six years of silence

It was dark. It was so dark.

After days without sleep it got harder and harder to move around. My body was sore and every step was beginning to feel like a serious chore. I had to stop driving around after I clipped another car trying to turn and ended up speeding off through a one-way street to get away from the accident.

I didn’t spend more than a day in one place at first but didn’t last. Even if I could muster up the mobility, I had started seeing things. People, actually. Victims. With every passing day I felt the world slowly grow darker around me and as it grew darker I started noticing the dead walking the streets among me. The darker it got the more of them there were and the more of them that took note of me. I could feel them following me.

As all light slowly drained from my world the cold began to set in. There was no warmth. I could feel my body trembling, after the first few days I think I was trembling at all times. I remember crumpling over and screaming at one point from frustration at how difficult it was becoming to do anything. I screamed only to realize I had been surrounded by those I had damned and had to cut through several of them just to escape, bolting at full speed to anywhere they weren’t.

There was fire littering that blackened place. No warmth and they provided very little actual visibility but they gave me a safe direction to move in and kept the damned at bay… for a little while at least.

When the fire went out, or when a fire went out nearby, I knew it was time to move. They were coming.

And that went on for… ummm… well I don’t actually know. It felt like an eternity though. I had almost nothing to draw a point of reference from by that point.

…I knew it was over on that last day. All the fires suddenly went out at once.
I could hear them approaching from all directions. I ran in the direction of the closest extinguished fire. I was shit for shape through and through at that point but I managed to cut through a few the damned as I barreled onward. The dead aren’t exactly sporty.

I was hoping, with everything I had, that maybe, just maybe, the fire hadn’t gone out. That the flames had only dimmed. I was greeted at the extinguished flame by the only thing hope has ever brought me, pain and regret. There was no fire and there were even more damned there waiting for me than I had ever seen gathered before. I fought. I gave it everything I had but they were too much. They held me down, many digging into my flesh to make sure there would be no escape. And that’s when it got bad.

She showed up. She was so angry she began to burn into her own flame when she started screaming at me. As she approached the other damned let go and backed off, driven back by her fire.

“Is this it?!”

She stepped closer. I couldn’t move. I was so cold. I think that made her angrier.

“All your promises. ALL YOUR LIES!”

She lifted me up by the throat. It burned. I could feel her fire spreading, slowly engulfing me.


I could barely see her over the flames at that point, I had been entirely engulfed. I used what little strength I had left forcing one word out.


And then her fire suddenly burnt out leaving me as the only one still covered in flames.

Softly she spoke.
“Prove it.”

And then she lifted me higher and I felt the Masters embrace. Tendrils engulfed me… and the world was no more.

No more sympathy. No more doubt. No more empty words.
Everyone deserves to die. I’m going to make sure everyone gets what they deserve.

When the Masters done with them of course.
You all should count yourselves lucky I’m leashed.
Swan out.

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

[He left this blank so I named this post 'Frank' for him.]

“There is nothing but peace when you die so why would you spend a single second in the waking world looking for it. 
That would be retarded.”

Tired. Trying to catch up on sleep but needed to catch up on derelict duties. Can’t stop hunting.
[Sure Ember hasn’t helped much in that getting rest department. Bowchikawowow.]

Killed nine people in the last 4 days. No time for sport. Shot them. Threw one guys off a roof. That was funny. Splat!
[It’s always funny when it happens to someone else isn’t it Duckie? As a post note to any readers, he couldn’t see these at the time that he wrote this. I added these after the fact, that’s why he isn’t freaking out… yet. Just thought I would clear that up.]

So much paperwork for… every little thing. Damaged property, notice of death without proper forms, killing too many people in one day, poor subordination control, and my favorite, ‘Running’. Fucking generalizations.
[Although still entirely accurate, he did 'run'.]

Budget has been cut in half over Firecasso burning up parts of the place.

She’s super mad. Little disappointed I’m alive. I’m a poor fucking teacher apparently or I wouldn’t be.
[Blah blah blah, I’m whiny and suicidal! I live on borrowed time! They’re going to take it back! Fucking cry baby.]

She got called to those fucking Maskless bastards. Training or something. More like a week of quiet. Hope those bastards burn.
[Blah blah blah, blind hatred for people he has never met.]

Ember has been over. Keeps me safe.
[Among other things, WOAH!]
West passes back and forth.
[See, I don’t even have to try on that one. Too easy.]

Trent… still doesn’t fucking talk.
[Blah blah blah, Trent.]

Fracture is back... punched him. Like a lot.
[Yeah, that part kind of sucked. And by punched, he of course means sucker punched me leading into a 5 minute beating... good times.]

Had freaky ass daymares while I was ‘running’. Talk about it next time.
[Ha ha. Daymares.]

Swan out! [Fracture out!]

Friday, August 10, 2012


“You’ll never get an apology out of me, bitch.
I can never take back anything I do because it’s done.
There is no point second guessing it because of that.
If I did it, it must have been the right thing to do!”

-Duckie in regards to Firecracker’s brother.


Mr. Duck lives and I have a serious headache over it. I beat that bitch there, he was mine. He couldn't do anything. ANNNNYYYTTHING. He was fast a fucking sleep! I could have casually strolled up and SLIT HIS THROAT! No more Duck… no more PAIN…. But that screaming. The constant fucking SCREAMING. I can still hear it in the walls. I keep punching them but they won’t stop! Shut up. SHUt Up. SHUTTUP!

West is hardly a worthy distraction with his ridiculous fucking bear-ness! That is to say he is a big scary fucking bear of a man! His ridiculousness fit right in with Trent. Birds of a feather have no personality together! And then that fucker called me needy!

I should really try to straighten this out into some sort of order.

1. Went with bitch to find Mr. Duck.
4. Did not find Mr. Duck.
9. Received anonymous tip telling us where Mr. Duck was.
10. Beat bitch to Mr. Duck.
12. Fail to kill mister Duck. THERE WAS NO CRYING!
15. Go home.
28. Bitch and Bear show up at home with Mr. Duck.
31. Punch screaming walls! FUCK WALLS


33. Find out bitch and bear aren’t leaving.
36. Smother self.
1003. Come back as zombie and write STUPID fucking progress report.
-299. Fail at list making.

I think I need to go kill something. NEED painting materials.

Mission failed, are you fucking happy Mr. Rock Monster!
I hope your ridiculous granite body finds a way to burn in hell!

Sunday, August 5, 2012

His Hurt, My Betrayal

“May peace never find you, may loss ever haunt you.
When death finally finds you, I hope you’ve nothing left to lose...
                                    -Sierra’s Last words

So after a busy afternoon of burning everything Mr. Duck owned while he was out, save for the list of course, I made a fascinating discovery!

Seems Mr. Duck wrote a last will and testament, fancy that. No idea what it said, I lit it on fire. But as the last person to have ever seen it I think I’ll take three shares of EVERYTHING. Well… everything but some dirty spoon that couldn’t catch fire. I gave that to Trent! You know, because I’m like super nice and shit. There really wasn’t much left over after I was done burning stuff. Nothing but a spoon… oh, and my brother’s fucking sword. Apparently Mr. Duck has been lugging it around with him, which is super fucking creepy.

It was never his to have, ever. EVER, EVER, EVER! Not after what he did with it.

And finally an opportunity to make him pay,
Ember called me the other day. Seems Ember can’t find Mr. Duck alone. Having spent a year hunting him made ME of ALL people, the leading expert in duck hunting.

“You’ll serve a purpose yet.”

So Ember and I are going to go find him tomorrow.
And as weak as he should be by now, I’m finally going to KILL THE LIVING SHIT out of him and with the very sword that started it all!

“Now, now. Be a good girl.”


Probably… I… Fuck… I have a headache.
I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do. But just in case this message is on a delay so Ember shouldn’t see it till our hunt starts.

God I hope Mr. Duck dies this time.
I hope he finally bleeds… I PRAY HE SCREAMS.

Saturday, August 4, 2012

So cold

“What you do to one person, you have to be ready to do for all of them.
Can your heart handle that? Can you then take it in turn?”

It;s sooooooo cold. Darkness everywhere. Percing fire covers everything.

Callingto me... singing to me,,, la al la.

They are coming ... the fire cant stop them,

So angry. To many to killagain. Stop it!. STOP IT.

Monday, July 30, 2012


“Quit memorizing everything I say you little shit.
Find your own voice.”

So Trent’s post was a bust and Firecracker was nice enough to let loose that I’m not entirely on my ‘A’ game again. Last time I let either of those assholes post. I have been having trouble sleeping. Quite a lot of trouble sleeping actually. It seems like every other week I’m bitching about something new and painful or annoying. Patterns imply a human hand operating amongst the chaos.

Been having trouble thinking trying to sort this out. Then I realized the last few posts have had supposed quotes from a long dead runner, some stupid bitch who got taken out in the first month. I sat for a long time trying to figure out who the hell else would have known her. Staring at the quotes it occurred to me they were in italics. Only one bastard I know pretentious enough that he feels the need to type almost everything out in italics.

Fracture has tried to drug me in the past. He disappeared shortly before the trouble sleeping started. Worst yet italics. Also, there was that time he edited my posted while I was writing them. That I can’t take the quotes down means someone with his level of control over my blog probably did it.

Checked all over for a canister. Also checked for rashes or a needle scar. Then I realized my body won’t scar. I could have injections all over and possibly never know it!

Need someone to watch me sleep. Can’t trust Firecracker or Trent, Fracture brought them in. To many untrustables. Filthy runners. Murderous proxies. Going to start moving around to see if I can’t get away from him.

Left the list in my room. I expect Firecracker and Trent to keep hunting.
I’m off to find Salome. Peace. Just enough until it stops.


Sunday, July 29, 2012

“You are so mean! I’d tell you not to say anything at all if you can’t think of something nice to say,
but if I did I fear you would never be able to say anything again.”


Nothing to report.

Thursday, July 26, 2012

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.”

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!