Bring It On, Bitch

You've probably all seen this by now. A load of crap, is all it is. The most sanctimonious of bullshit I've ever had the misfortune of having to read.  It's not even worth spending the time to summarize and address you all about my opinion. Instead, I just want to address the bitch.


You know what? You want to be independant? Fine. You're an arrogant cunt and I'm glad to see the back of you. But you're way out of line. WAY THE FUCK OUT OF LINE, BITCH. Obviously, Sloth is kind of a fuckwit. Duh. He's a man. They can't help it, the poor idiots. And if you don't like his leadership, that's one less thing for us to have to manage, one more thing Fracture has to keep doing whether he likes it or not, which is all to the good. But deciding Sloth deserves to fucking die over some relatively minor fuckups is just nuts. Jack trying to kill him I get. I don't like it, but I get it. Not that I won't fucking kill him if he tries it again, but I get it. But you... it's like you just had a grudge that you've been trying really hard to find an excuse for.

Seriously, bitch, aren't you supposed to be emotionless or something? This is not emotionless. This is petty anger. You've just declared war, as far as I can tell. Last chance to take it back. The Fire Cult has been wiped out once. Don't you think declaring war on the Free Market is a good way to do it again?

No More

This is an official declaration of sovereignty. I, and the rest of the Fire Cult, have suffered for far to long under the doomed leadership of the incompetent Lord Betrayer, the lazy piece of shit, Sloth. I would link examples of his short comings but it's every post on this blog since he took over.

He immediately singled out his body guard, the poor angry bitch that took over his old job, Nat by keeping her out of the loop and going over her head on matters with out so much as a mention or any degree of consulting. During this period of  disarray he used Nat's refusal to work with him to convince Fracture to come back and take over things while he was fixing what he broke. But he didn't fix what he broke. 

With Fracture busy doing both Sloth's and Nat's job, Sloth ran off and branded Fracture's soon to be newest recruit for no other reason than to piss Fracture off screwing over's Fracture's ward in the processes by using him as a patsy and making him an accomplice for no other reason that to get him in trouble and further infuriate Fracture.

I'm sure it surprises no one that Fracture abandoned us again under the weight of all this senseless harassment. But it didn't end there. Jack, Fracture's ward, came back for revenge and near fatally injured Sloth. In my eyes, and in most peoples eyes, I think its fair to say Sloth got off pretty easy. He deserved nothing short of death at this point and he damn well knows it. So what did he have his dog Nat post in response to his failed assassination attempt? Threats, challenging Jack to try it again.

And what did he immediately do when he got better? He threw a stupid fucking party for Moth's shameful abandonment of his oath. Maggot certainly had the right idea last night. One does not simply get to abandon their vows and Moth certainly got off easy... far easier than Sloth will be getting off. I'm going kill him.

He has no honor. He has no remorse, He attacks those hes supposed to be working with and acts like a victim when her gets what he deserves for it. I will not be his bitch like Nat, so willing to forgive and take orders.

I can see that Fracture didn't give Sloth this position out of mutual respect. He did it because its hard work. Because its dangerous work. Because it will eat him alive. And by god, I will see Fracture's will done.

I declare us, the Fire Cult, the our own active body in the Free Market answering only to Fracture and Father himself. And further more, I decree Sloth to be unworthy of his title of head CEO of the Free Market. He will be stripped of his undeserved title and burned until only bones remain so that I may replace him.

Brace yourself Betrayer. The Fire is coming.

Not Fucking Today

So, fuck you, Fuckface, and fuck you Jack. Your attempt was unsuccessful. Sloth is alive, and he's going to be fine. He is guarded, and if you try something again you will not come away unscathed.

For those of you who aren't the culprit and therefore don't already fucking know, Jack seems to be unhappy about recent events. He decided the appropriate way to express this unhappiness was to fucking attempt to assassinate Sloth. Presumably he thought that since the two of us had recently had a rather public fight and no one else seems to give a fuck, he would be an easy target.

He thought fucking wrong. I had some of my Masks guarding the fucker constantly. Not to mention I myself had started guarding him again as well, because despite what some of you might think I'm not a totally unreasonable cunt and we sorted things out. The boss is the boss, after all.

So, he is fucking guarded, and he is fine, and you are going to fucking pay for this.

Sorry Fracture

It's nothing personal. Really. By now I would think you of all people can appreciate why this keeps happening. And really, would you expect anything else from someone with my title?

Not as if you haven't done worse to some people... I'm sure you're huffing and making a big scene on that side of the monitor but remember, that just makes you a hypocrite.


...


"What the fuck do you people want?!" he yelled in exhausted frustration. We'd spent the better half of the last three days following him. Chasing him at times. And we'd finally managed to corner him. He was a scrappy fucker, this Cerberus.

A disgraced timber-wolf Fracture and the Free Market had used and thrown to the wolves. Funny how those who abandon you always come back to see if you're still alive after a while...

 "Isn't this the guy Fracture wanted?" asked Jack looking concerned and confused. So well informed. Fracture never use to tell him anything when he had me following him around during my 'baby' days. I hadn't anticipated this. It was easy enough to lie my way out of though.

"Why do you think we're here? Where gonna do something nice for good ol' Fracture. A thank you for everything he does for us."

"Oh. That makes sense~.... I guess."

"Of course it does, or I wouldn't have said it."

Cerberus hissed at the name drop.
"Fracture!"

"That's right boy-o, Fracture."

"Proxies," he said hissing again. I would have thought the masks would have given that away but whatever. Timberwolves always were overly dramatic douchebags.

"Right... this conversation is getting stupid a little faster than I care to go so-"

"Ha! Because you're Sloth!"

"..."

"And you're slow..."

"..."

"I get it."

"Wow. We and we're already there it seems."

"Hey," Jack huffed angrily. I wasn't about to stop to let him open his stupid mouth again this time.

"So I'm just gonna cut to the chase. You're gonna join us."

Cerberus scoffed. "Like hell. I'd sooner die."

"Well... I've done all I can do."

"...Really?"

"Yep. Guess we should go."

"... Just gonna... let me go?"

And I stabbed him in the gut. "Yep. With the standard gift basket of course."

I heard a pop and a snap behind us and half turned. Cerberus took that window to kick the knife out of my hand and made a grab for it. Jack and one of my Mask's grabbed him and held him down. He started struggling and yelling for help.

"Relax. We're not gonna kill you," I said as my other Mask arrived with freshly broken and super heated pieces of mask. "We're just gonna make sure no one else will have you till you change your mind."

And with that I took my leave of the grisly scene that was to follow. Jack assured me my will was done. Cerberus was permanently branded with pieces of broken mask across his face in a tasteful manner, not too unlike our poor darling PaKaSo.

No runner, cultist, or proxy should want anything to do with him looking like that. To most it looks very proxy like. To us, its the sign of a turncoat. Or it is now. The meaning of that has changed a few times...  it meant something completely different when PaKaSo did it... god shes got it rough.

Cerberus passed out from the pain. Hes kind of a bitch... not that I can boast that I wouldn't have done the same if I'm being perfectly frank.

...

Poor Cerberus. After what Fracture's goons did to him, I doubt he'll ever work with us now. Such a pity.

Sorry Fracture. Looks like I fucked up your newest project and it's face... again.

I keep doing that. So careless of me.

The Lord Betrayer Sloth, out.

Going Behind my Fucking Back

What's the point of putting me in charge of a thing if you're just going to go the fuck behind my back anyway? Ugh. Moth was a fucking Mask, that's my damn jurisdiction and you know it! I'm not sure I buy this whole sacrifice thing at all, but I especially don't appreciate not even being fucking informed until I read it on the BLOG. What the everloving fuck, you bastards?

And Fracture, keep the hell out of our business. You retired, so fucking RETIRE. Stay away. We do not want you here. I fucking swear, just recently we were trying to kill the smug asshole and now we're all working with him without even a complaint? That is some BULLSHIT. Do you guys have the memories of a fucking goldfish?

I am just so fucking fed up with all of this crap. I was going to keep quiet, I'm tired of this blogging shit, but apparently no one registers information unless it's on one of these. You should've fucking told me he was getting retired to do this sacrifice crap. You should've fucking told me that he might go insane in the process. You should've fucking told me we were somehow still on friendly terms with Fuckface despite everything.

I have had it with this shit. If any of you need me, I'll be off doing my FUCKING JOB and having nothing to do with this bullshit. Don't even bother me unless you want to tell me something related to that. Just... fuck off. All of you. Go to hell.

I Was Born Sick

But I love it!
Command me to be well?

I guess. Apparently.

I don't fucking know. Fracture sent that one one up. I just kind of finished it.

Sloth here. Or as they are calling me these days, the Lord Betrayer Sloth. I've got a whole fucking title and everything. I gotta say... that is way to much pressure. I don't think I can handle this. In fact, I know I can't handle this.

That's what I have people for. People can hand things. So I made all my people create blog accounts so they could write on my behalf too. Because believe you me, I wasn't about to let them onto my account. Last thing I need is my account picture suddenly becoming a penis or something. Because they've done that before.

I'm surrounded by 20 year old juveniles.

Lets name the cast.

First off is me. Sloth. I'm awesome, probably.

Then we have our second in command. The Lord Goddess Nat. Do not call her that, she'll rip your throat out. In fact, I'm gonna strike that out. It doesn't exist now. She'll be taking over my old job coordinating the Mask Cult. Interests include beating the shit out of you and everything you know and love. She also likes cats.

Next up is the head of the Mask Cult's sister cult, the Fire Cult. She is the Lord Fire Jen. Do not call her Jen though. She'll rip your throat out. In fact, I've already made this joke so we'll just underline it this time. Fuck you bitch. Stop changing my profile picture to dicks. Her interests include all fields of academia and lighting shit on fire with her mind. She, ironically, has no emotion... or something.

Last on the roster is  the Lord Devil Siera. Shes prefers to be called Siera and, like everyone else, has no idea why her codename is Devil. Shes an accountant. She is also an ex-drug lord and was Duckie's half sister. So also handles most out of house personal like your standard non-cult specific proxies and other such people who don't actually live at the Free Market but choose to take orders from us in exchange for money and security. She, like you, is the backbone of this operation. She is also a raging alcoholic.

As you might have noticed, we adopted a few blogs.

Picasso's blog has been fused with Wrath is Eternal. From the looks of its, its just gonna be her rambling but its nice to have the real Picasso back all the same. She said she wants to get back to proxy work and I guess she intends to drag Navi along with her. I guess we'll see how that works out.

Moth has decided to start his own blog. The aptly named, Wrath is Madness. His blog has also been fused with this one. He opened up with a recap of what brought us to where we are now so if you're curious as to why I'm in charge now instead of Fracture go read that. I guess hes gonna chronicle us sacrificing him to the 'Fire'... should be pretty metal.... I guess?

And last, Fracture is reviving his old blog. The White Coat Special. If you take up that blog, I suggest you take the newest posts advice and don't bother with the backlog. Its a lot of gibberish. Apparently he stole Jack and their off to kill shit and experiment and be pretentious assholes together. Its worth noting that Fracture is apparently still technically my boss... maybe... he claims to still be.... and that we didn't fuse his blog to ours. He fused himself to us forcibly. Such class.

If we keep to our schedules, these blogs should be updating bi-weekly... that is to say, every other week... is that bi-monthly? I have no idea. It'll be every other week. Except for maybe Fracture's blog. He'll do whatever the fuck he wants I'm sure.

The last exciting bit of new is a few changes I've made to the website. I added an item to the store in honor of Fracture who stepped down from his position but refuses to leave or stop meddling... apparently. We added the item before we realized that was gonna be the case.

We also added an Ethics page. No longer does the Free Market hunt runners. It is our duty to protect them while Father hunts them. We're very progressive here. This has actually been the case for a while now but the Ethics page should make that information either to find. There are also some rules in there that pertain to the entire Free Market and areas where the Free Market's influence extends. Do try to behave.

I'm debating taking down the bounty board. Feels dated. I don't know, what do you guys think?




Anyways, I'm gonna go take a nap and then try to eat an entire bag of apples on my own. You all stay beautiful and shit... you know... if you feel like it.

The Lord Betrayer Sloth out.

But I Love It

Father thrust me deep into Darkness,
So I may better learn to love my Light.

For with every soul I can not save,
It darkens with Bitterness and Spite.

Surrounded by this Madness,
I no longer know whats Right.

Father, thrust me deeper into Darkness still.
Push me far, use all your Might!

Please... let there still be some Light.

Amen. 

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

So... I've held back on this one. For quite a while in fact. The likes of this and this have already been out for nearly a week.

The incredibly useless accounts of the assholes that showed up to my grand fucking finale with fucking earplugs of things.

And don't even get he started on my problems that shithead's Sloth's telling of my farewell call. Who the fuck can't go a single line of fucking dialog without cramming arbitrary internal exposition in. I mean who does that? Seriously, who the fuck does that?! This isn't documentary. You're not Bear fucking Grills.

God damn it. He had one job.  See what happens, tell what happens, and reiterate my call. Handle my finale with fucking grace and dignity. I just... wanted to leave on a strong note, you know? Stand up up tall and leave with some dignity.

Now I have to tell my own proper good bye. And that's not cool. Its narcissistic. I can't help feeling like I deserve better than that. Its a narcissistic fucking loop. A black hole of self indulgent shit. 

Its smut.

Fine smut. The gentlemanly kind... or something.

Whatever.  You want something done right, you narcissism the shit out of it. 

Right?

Of course I'm right. I'm me.

I'm gonna go ahead and retell the story as if you didn't know the ending, for as far as I know you don't yet.

So, I called out Picasso, Moth, Nat, Sloth and their brigade of renegade proxy pals to settle things once and for all. By that point it had already come out that they, through Father's behind the scenes manipulation and through orders he had been issuing my subordinates behind my back, were in fact working for my boss and lord the Slender Man (A.K.A. Father). Jeez that sentence is a mouthful.

I suppose my first mistake was boasting that I could use Whisper to force them all into submission... its why they came with the earplugs.

But I didn't actually bring Whisper. I had deduced that I would not actually need him. Picasso and her cronies wouldn't require it. If they were an actual threat, I might have brought whisper. Hell, I might have taken David up on his and let him help to... well no. I guess I wouldn't. You can't fucking trust David. Or at least I can't. We'll call back to that later.

So I didn't bring anyone else but Duckie. Duckie was all I needed... that and snacks. I made a food run while we were waiting for Day to break.

Setting up for a meeting like this was easy. I mean, I practically teleport so I was able to just pop in the necessary lighting equipment to the places I would need them on the roof... just can't teleport food... or living organic matter, it spoils.

Funnily enough I actually bumped into Sloth and Nat shopping while I was on my food run. That uh... could not have been more awkward.

I decided against moving around after that. We just climbed up on the roof, and waited... for like hours. They took their sweet ass time there.

I made some small talk with Duckie.

"You sure you want to do this big guy?" I asked reaching over and patting his shoulder.

He stood there unflinchingly for a long time before he finally decided to respond. And when he did, his words couldn't have made me proud.

All he said was, "Fathers will be done."

That poor boy never lost Faith.

At long last I could hear someone coming. I climbed up on the back rest of my chair to ready self. I could see Duckie tense up and relax to my left. He was nervous.

One by one every piled up on the roof across from us. Picasso, Moth, Nat, Sloth, Navi, and Vallus.

So I gave them a proper greeting and turned on the blindingly bright lights I had meticulously teleported in.

They looked pleasantly surprised... or just surprised I guess. More horrified and surprised? Hard to say. Nat's jaw practically dropped and she and the others kept looking out at the other roof tops... if I had to guess they were looking for my sniper. I hindsight, I probably shouldn't have brought the lighting out.

I mean, sure it adds a little oomph to the situation but apparently it combined with the knowledge that I have a highly trained sniper on my roster is very... distracting.

There are just so many little things I would have done differently in hindsight.

So, upon there arrival I immediately dove into my theatrics.

I threw up my hands and yelled, "Welcome! Let's get this execution started shall we!"

... Under the humming of the light I heard... foot steps behind me... and ambush? Strange. Nothing I could turn to deal with at that exact moment though. If I turned my back on the angry mob in front of me they'd bum rush me. He remain composed...

I dropped off the back rest of my chair onto my feet and proceeded to walk around the chair to better greet my guests, hopefully moving further away from the source of the noise. It was about then that I realized something was wrong... you know. Beyond what I had anticipated and beyond who ever was trying to sneak up on me.

Picasso was as mess but that was the thing I saw coming. Her hair was everywhere. She was in food and blood stained clothes. It looked like both she and her clothes had not been changed or washed for several weeks. She was drooling. Practically frothing at the mouth in anticipation. Her eyes glued on Duckie as she made gnarling noises at him and used her teeth to make biting noises. 

When I greeted everyone, she was the only one to respond to me. 

Nat and the rest of the sane people were working themselves up for the fight they were anticipating silently with looks to each other and gestures. Moth held up his spear in a little hoorah motion but nobody fucking responded to me. No one but crazy girl. 

She called out at me in double speak showing Father's influences over her on her sleeves as he screamed through her. "FUCK FACE!"

I did the only sensible thing you could possibly do in that situation. I gave that bitch the hand and pointed at her friends.

"Uh... whats wrong with them. I was expecting more... wisecracks and insults. If nothing else far more cussing."

I could see the curiosity creep in through Picasso's serious face proving something of her was still there. She leaned back a bit to look for herself and noticed something I couldn't see from my vantage point and broke out laughing.

"What? What is it."

"Th-They, hahahaha, they have ear plugs on. How do you like that, hahahaha," she said laughing at me before suddenly and violent jerking herself quiet into an awkward upright position. When she spoke again she spoke in that deep furious double talk once more. "They're TIRED of listening to your BULLSHIT too."

I couldn't help but sigh. All the fucking effort I went through setting up this little show and they couldn't fucking hear me. I groaned rubbed the top of the bridge of my nose in frustration.

"This is bullshit."

"It's time to DIE Fuck face!"

I once again through my hand out at Picasso. Specifically my finger. My index finger.

"Oh yeah. Is this your glorious victory. Is the only way for you to beat Duckie to team up on him with five other fucking people?!"

She stopped mid-step... hesitated. That insult struck deep and for a moment her face was taken with an expression of pain and realization before quickly snapping back to it's furious scowl.

"FUCK YOU FUCK FACE YOU SON OF A BITCH!" she yelled pulling out her axes and holding one out in front of her in my direction.

Everyone else, seeing this motion, took a stance and prepared to charge. Picasso hissed and whipped around to face them, putting out a hand to inform them to stop. "MINE!" she screamed out, clearly devolving further before out very eyes.

Despite being unable to hear her, they all backed down. He body language was certainly loud enough for everyone to hear.

Then she whipped back around towards me and Duckie and took several steps forward before slamming her foot into the ground with such force I swear it cracked the roof beneath her foot. "YOU. ME. SETTLE THIS NOW!"

She took her fighting stance. Duckie took his. I pulled my gun out behind Duckie's back where she couldn't see it and started walking forward until I was right behind Duckie.

"That's right. We're gonna settle this once and for all. There will be no question who was right all along after this. At long last, something that should have been done a long time ago will finally be fixed."

Picasso grew impatient. She wasn't willing to wait until the end of my little rant to see this done. Mid way through the monologue she broke into a mad dash towards us with her axes out at her side in either hand ready to kill Duckie or die trying.

... And I couldn't let that happen. I cocked my gun and aimed for the sure shot, firing true... and killing Duckie instantly... or uh... instantly enough... brains and blood splatted out the back of his head and lightly coated me... my gun... my hand... 

Duckie was twitching on the floor... very dead. There was no saving him... but he was doing this unnerving twitching thing... wouldn't stop fucking twitching. I might have kicked him still but my attention was called elsewhere when Picasso started screaming bloody fucking murder.

  I could see everyone behind her was sharing concerned looks of confusion. The look on Sloth's face was priceless. Just the... absolute... disbelief...

Didn't have time to relish in it. Picasso stopped screaming and pulled herself to her feet. She started charging at me again, yelling "THAT WAS MINE!"

But this time when she spoke, the double speak was gone. It was just her now. 

See... I didn't just execute Duckie for fun... when I realized Father wasn't ever gonna rest as long as I had him, I made Father deal. If I, me specifically, killed Duckie he agreed that he would set all of this right and fix Picasso for me. Not to be out done, I talked him into throwing Moth into the deal too. For the cost of one life, Duckie's, I would save two, Picasso's and Moth's. Terms I did not personally acceptable in the least... but ones I could learn to live with.

I heard the sound of footsteps right behind me... literally right at my back. Whoever the fuck that was had made it all the way behind me without me noticing and decided against attacking and retreated. I tried to get a glimpse over my shoulder but I was in hurry and couldn't really turn to look. I had an angry bitch charging headlong at me.

I threw up a finger again, this time pointing behind Sloth and the others. Something that confused them greatly as they tried to follow what I was pointing at. Something that toppled them all over onto their asses when they realized it was there.

Father, stood before them rising tale in his glory. "I kept my side of the bargain! Keep yours! Fix her!" I yelled at his.

I could hear him growling. If he didn't have a deal to up hold, he'd have been ripping limbs from my body for my insolence. He threw out his arms and snagged Picasso from across the roof just as she was jumping at me. Her ax came less than an inch from my face as she was slammed hard into the ground behind for.

Father's tendrils started at her feet and wrapped along her legs, past her waist, up her chest, around her neck, and then up against her cheek.

Picasso spent the better half of this process struggling and screaming.

"I'm GONNA kill you fuck face IF ITS the LAST thing I ever FUCKING DO! Do YOU hear me?! I'm gonna KILL you. I FUCKING SWEAR IT. I'M GONNA SHOVE THIS AX SO FAR UP YOUR AS-"

And before she could finish that vulgar thought Father crammed a tendril through her left eye and she started twitching and seizing. She would continue to do so for about the next twenty minutes, long after Father had withdrawn his tendrils and disappeared. Nat and company would spend that time staring on in disbelief in a defensive posture.

Of course they still had their fucking earplugs in and had no fucking clue what was going on. Useless assholes.

I clench my fist and violently ripped open a Path portal back to the Free Market compound. I motioned at their ears in hopes they would get the message and pull their plugs out.

They proceeded to stare at me like retarded turkeys on the slaughter assembly line. Following a short groan and a quick break to rub the bridge of my nose in frustration again, I tele-stepped over to Moth and ripped that fucking spear out of his and gave that masked face of his a good slap before pulling out one of his earplugs myself and yelling in his ear while point out Picasso and the Path portal.

"Are you just gonna fucking stand there?! You're my bitch again now. Get back to work. Shes hurt. Get her ass home!"

He took a moment to stare at me in disbelief before running over and scooping up Picasso and carrying her off into the portal.

I pulled out my notepad and wrote a note for Nat as I made my way over to her.

It read, ''There's a hospital in there.' Which was true enough. I had my medical team waiting at attention back at the compound in case anything went wrong.

While she took a moment to try to read and make sense of the note, I pulled my gun and shot Sloth in the gut.

Nat looked furious but she looked more concerned for Sloth. After a moment of deliberation, she scooped him up too and booked it through the portal. Navi and Vallus took the opportunity to try to attack me. I saw their shadows making their way at me and tele-stepped out of the way.

I pointed my gun at them from across the roof. They hesitated and stopped a moment. I motioned at their ears. They finally got the message and each pulled a plug out from one of their ears with their free hand.

"You two planning to abandoning your friends to hang out here and fight me?" I asked. Navi looked over at the portal and back at me before cussing and darting for the portal.

Vallus stood her ground. 

"... What are you waiting for? Go!"

She stared a moment longer before she finally answered.

"No."

"What?" 

"I said no. You're not fooling me. I know where that goes and I'm not going back! When I left you and the compound, it was for good!"

I tele-stepped right in front of her to scowled her in person for dramatic effect. "Quit acting like a fucking child and get your ass home!" I yelled pointing towards the portal.

She took the opportunity to shove me on my ass.

"I'm not acting like a child!" she yelled from over me, glaring down at me from up high. She pulled out her mask and snapped it in two over her knee before me and throw the pieces at me. "And I'm certainly done listening to you," she stated calmly before making her way back to the fire escaped and taking her leave of me... and the Free Market.

Just one last thing to take care of. The fucker that tried to stab me in the back in the middle of my theatrics.

I pushed myself back to my feet and whistled aloud. "Maggot, you little shit. I know you're out here," I yelled. David had called and let me know ahead of time that Maggot had taken off from it's post. I had a hunch it might tried to kill itself if it found out I was going up against Father.

Such a loyal dog. Some of my finer work, truly.

Sure enough, Maggot whistled back. It had managed to get behind me again. I whipped around and there it was, Black coat and all white clothes with it's pearly white mask. It's knife was, thankly, tucked away.

"You shouldn't have-"

I didn't get to finish that thought. Maggot ran over and slammed its heel into my shin and then tackled my to the ground in a painful and awkward hug. More painful than anything else really.

When I was done whincing and yelling in pain, I pushed it off of me and patted it's head. "Yeah, yeah. Little shit. Stay here a moment okay? Take you back in a minute."

Maggot nodded and off I went to the Free Market to check on Picasso.

[If you want to know what happened to every one that went into the portal, its the first thing I linked above. I have no idea whats become of Vallus. Shes out in the world... somewhere.]

She was doing okay. Stable vitals... her eye was still there... mostly. The one Father rammed his tendril through was still there but it had taken on a whiter color... like the whole thing had cataracted  over. 

Moth was on the other side of the bed pacing nervously. He was visibly unnerved by my presence but seems to be taking it as a given at this point that I was in charge again, one of the reasons I had father do this in front of him on my in person request. So he would know to listen to me again. Moth is a delightfully simple soul.

I rested a hand on Picasso's shoulder a minute. I had ever intent on leaving then but recognition suddenly sprang forth in her dead stare and she slowly turned over to look at me. 

She sounded so exhausted and weak. "Franky?" she asked giving me a funny look.

I help back I bright grin. It had been a really long time since she had called me that. I could see Moth was quite surprised himself from his side of the room. He rushed over to her other side.

"Fracture. Its Fracture," I teases back to her acting like... nothing over the corpse of the last six years had happened. 

She gave me a weak shove with one hand. "Yeah, whatever Franky. Ridiculous code names."

"Its better than Pa-Ka-So. Three cherry picked syllables from your name. How incredibly fucking original."

She gave me a harder shove. "Hey! That's a secret. You promised not tell! You always have to keep your promises no matter what," she said curling back into bed. She was tired and trying to doze off on me.

But my eyes went wide. I felt my heart sink when she said that. I was cursing like crazy in my head.

"Come now. Not every promise is something you have to keep. Thing change. You have to be flexible with that kind of thing."

All I got out of her from there was. "Always," as she drifted off into her dreams.

Ominous. Truly.

So I went back to Maggot dropped it off at it's place. Its a bit of loner. It wanted a bit of time to itself. I spent that time doing movies and ice cream and shit.

Sometime early on to that Sloth and Nat called. You can check that in the second thing I linked above. I'm not writing out the whole conversation again. This post is long enough as it is.

And of course, while me and Maggot were out enjoying a well deserved break, this and this happened.

... Can't help feeling like that is somehow all Maggot's fault for not being there...

So I called our vacations short and drove Maggot back to Banks. That took some coordinated efforts with banks himself. He was on the move and I needed him to stop so he could take Maggot back in. 

So once I was sure we were about five miles away I kicked Maggot out of the car and told the little shit to start marching. No force on this earth will ever make me come within five miles of that fucker again.

He's promised me a fate and a pain worse than anything he has ever inflicted on any one over the very long course of his very storied career. And he, like Picasso, is very good keen on keeping his word... so Maggot can fucking walk.

Now that vacation is over, its time I got back to work too. Starting with this post. If you read the post by Sloth that I linked way at the top of the page, you know know I'm stepping away from the Free Market.

That's not say that I'm doing working though. I still have my duties as the Lord Guardian to carry out. I still have a Fire Cult to help direct. Still much to do to try to put the other fears back in their places and quite frankly I have no idea where to start. And all that pales in comparison to the blood sacrifice I have to organize.

Mine is a busy soul. The Free Market, though a passion project and a beautiful effort in philanthropy, has unfortunately been slowing down and it's Sloth's problem now.

Good luck shit head. See you all around.

The Lord Guardian Fracture. 

Command Me to be Well

Hmm... Lets not dive right into this one.

I know, lets start with a short side story. A little follow up. I mean, I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't detail to you fine folks my latest suicide attempt right? It is, after all, my job to get myself killed doing stupid shit. I use to have some asshole that I liked to delegate that off to but hes off trying to kill me too so fuck him.

Less stalling, more reporting.

I went to go visit the Smiling Man. Now, I don't consider the smiling man to be a 'real' fear. I'm pretty sure hes an aspect of a far more powerful fear manifesting itself as its own independent entity. What does this really mean to you, the average proxy or runner? Nothing. As far as you are concerned, hes just another monster that is to be avoided least it be allowed to claim your soul.

To myself, fire cultists, and other insane assholes that actively combat Fear's and their cults it means everything. It means you could, given some ingenuity and some quick thinking actually hold your own against Mr. Smiles. At least long enough to get the fuck out of there. I don't think anyone is quite capable to stomaching the battle of attrition it would take to actually force him back. But hey, in a lot of situations its enough that you can actually slow him down. Not something you can do to must fears. Father, for example, can plow right through just about anything. When Father comes, just run.

I have a lot of thoughts on why the Smiling man is just so different from many of his siblings. Sloth did a good job of summarizing them here.

And as long as I'm linking that blog, its worth mentioning that I tried to make this visit because of what happened here.

Notice that I said 'tried'. I managed to find the tree Nat was talking about in that post. I could tell because it was the only tree covered in bright color flowers with ashy black leaves. It stuck out like a sore thumb. I intended to have a nice little chat with the Smiling one but he was gone. Seems he didn't stay ripped in half for long. Just as well. Its also worth noting here that I've stolen that tree. I had it pulled up by it's roots and replanted in it's own loop. We'll see what becomes of it.



As a final aside, I'm curious how many of you are interested in my theories and the data I've collected. I've considered making a blog dedicated to my theories and findings but who would ever trust a proxy right?
Moving on.








Now for the main event. Whisper is all healed up and back in his right mind. Hes giving orders and brainwashing people once more. Duckie has returned to peek killing condition. He use to beat Picasso and Moth's ass so even with his memory issues he should be more than enough to take both of them on his own. Whisper should be able to talk the rest of their group into submission. Duckie's very presence can force Father away. And I just got done bleaching a brand new cowboy hat so I look spiffy as shit. No one can stop me right now and I aim to prove it! Picasso its time we settled this. Meet us on the roof Duckie tried to kill you on so long ago. I'm sure you remember where that is right? The roof I saved you from when he threw your ass over the ledge you ungrateful bitch. This is a one time offer. Don't keep me waiting.




... Final aside. Rumors that I have completely lost control of my hollow's and the Mask cult due to conflicting interests with Father are completely false. Everything is copacetic. I haven't lost control of them. I locked them in their respective loops until matters can be settled.

Your lord and Guardian, Fracture, out!

Wrath is a Duck

So, like I said in my last post, Duckies is back. He's hollowed no more! Something we can do, but don't like to advertise, is that we are 100% capable of waking hollows up out of their stupor. Just like whisper can hollow them, he can unhollow people. Although its notably easier to hollow someone than it is to unhollow them.

Its why we don't like to do it. See... its has pretty hefty consequences. Let me show you what I'm talking about. We'll put ducking on the computer a moment and instruct him to type out, cheeseburger.

cheecheescheccheekmj

^And that is the result

Let me elaborate on what that is. Every time we tell Duckie to spell cheeseburger on the computer, he would type a handful of letters and then suddenly lose interest and start looking around the room. Then when we told him to do it again, he would start again and suddenly lose interest. And he did it several times.

We know he remembers doing it one or more of the other times because towards the end he got pissed and just slammed his fist into the keyboard and called it good like the classy son of a bitch he is.

Devil, being Duckie's sister, has not been taking this well. Apparently seeing him as a hollow wandering around with no memory was painful for her. I can only imagine how painful it is now to see him wandering around aimlessly as a near functional reminder of what shes lost.

So Duckie can't hold a thought longer then a few seconds at a time... more or less.

Interestingly enough though, hes still a very proficient killer. I think that's all instinct and muscle memory. He was very good at what he did before he bit the bullet and went all empty.

If I just point at something and tell him to kill it, he'll fucking gut them and rip them apart without any kind of hesitation. I had whisper wire him so he'll only listen to me.

This created an unanticipated consequence where he can't hear what anyone else is saying. Just me. He can hear sounds and shit as far as we can tell, just not people talking. He was always so literal...

We've also noticed an interesting phenomenon where Duckie will suddenly start crying at seemly random if you haven't interacted with him for more than like, a half an hour. And if you interact with him in anyway, waving or talking or something despite being unable to hear you, he'll suddenly stop. If you ask him why he was crying, he'll tell you:

"Was I?"

If you instead ask him what he feels he'll tell you:

"Cold... the fire is gone... everyone is gone..."

We're not sure what happens if you leave him alone longer than that. We can't get Jack to leave his side longer than that. Hes way up Duckies ass over the, 'Duckie saved my life thing'. They hold hands when they sleep. Its cute or something... or something.

One of the more interesting things to do is watch Duckie try to read. He really liked to read in life. Its something he can't quite seem to figure out in rebirth.

He'll read the first sentence and then stop, make a face, look at the cover of the book, and then read the first sentence. And he'll do that over and over again.

Apparently progress eventually gets made because I know hes spent all week getting three pages into his little book. I tried reading to him for a while but about five minutes in, after intense listening, Duckie would suddenly ask me:

"Oh hey, what are you reading?"

And then I would get frustrated and stomp out of the room, prompting Duckie to try to read the book I left behind by himself.

Its really quite pitiful.

Honestly not sure what caused this condition. It could have been the hollowing and unhollowing or it could have been the aneurysms being around Father gave him.

It is significantly less problematic than when we tried to unhollow the original Firecracker, the one Picasso got her title from.

 She couldn't figure out how to use door handles... or walk... or eat... and had to be told to breath every two seconds...

We put her back to sleep, the poor creature. Its funny that she knew how to use door nobs when she was hollowed the first time but can't now after she was woken up and re-hollowed. Very peculiar. 

Hmm...

Lets end this with a word from Duckie himself. Dictated but not read, of course.










"Sup, Ugly Fuck."

He turned to face me and gave me a vacant stare for a full minute before slugging me hard in the arm.

"Ow. Fuck. Still!?"

"Fuck face."

"And of course you remember that too."

"Its your name."

"My name is Fracture."

"Its Fuck Face. That's why everyone calls you Fuck Face, Fuck Face."

I just stood there for a full minute and stared him down as he stared back.

"Oh, hey Fracture. Where did you come from? Did you need something."

I sighed. Hes such a fucking asshole. "Hey Duckie. I just wanted to check up on you. How are you feeling?"

I watched him throw his weight back and the suddenly throw it forwards as he slammed his fist hard into my face.

To which I fell hard on my ass and rolled around nursing my nose until I could recompose myself and stand, where upon I snapped my nose back into place, which fucking hurt, and applied pressure in hopes that it might stop bleeding. "Care to try that again with fucking words this time?!"

"Try what again?"

"How are you feeling shithead?!"

"Oh. I can't complain... cold... still..."

"Wheres the fire gone?"

"... I.... lost it...?"

"How does that work?"

"I don't know... so lost... nothing to guide me..."

"Wh-" I didn't get to finish that thought before he slugged me in the shoulder again.

"Why do you keep doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"Fucking punching me."

"... How I greet you... something wrong with your memory?"

I swear to god it feels like hes faking it sometimes. "No, my memory is fine."

"If you say so. Sure sign of Father's love... lost memories..."

"How did you feel when you found out Father hated you."

"... Angry" he hissed. He gave me a glare I hadn't seen in a while. His truly terrifying death glare. Feels like hes looking through you. Like hes staring down something behind you and is ready to rip through you to get at whatever you've made the mistake of being in the way of. Gut wrenching shit.

"Was he worth dying over?"

He grinned and with a very confident and triumphant tone he said, "Yes."

"Would you do it again?"

"In a heartbeat."

"No regrets?"

"... I wish I had read more... and skinned Elaine slowly... when I had the chance."

"Why did you hate Elaine so much?"

"She was a whoring, self righteous, overbearing, hypocrite, with no defined purpose in life beyond escaping her own ill defined self induced torment slowing dragging down everyone around her to her own level."

"Confident words about a person you've never met."

"I can read," he hissed back at me.

"What makes you so much better than her?"

"I have purpose."

"What fucking purpose could you possibly have?"

"I will be immortal. My rage will out live me, burning on through the lives of all those whose livelihoods I set fire to and ruined. So to will it burn on through the lives they in turn ruin. The fire will guide them and they will burn with glorious light and ignite all those around them. My legacy will echo out endlessly through the ages and my Wrath will be E...."

He suddenly stopped and looked around confused. "Uh, your wrath will be...?"

"My Wrath is a Duck," he said with no small amount of inconfidence. I could see him trying to make sense of his surroundings. Like everything was suddenly wrong after his particularly long bout of coherent thought... if you can call that thought process coherent.

"... What?"

"I said I'm Duckie."

"Sure you did."

He growled in frustration and then socked me hard in the arm. "Don't fuck with me Fuck Face, my Wrath is Eternal."

I winced again. "I fucking know. You keep fucking telling me."

"Well good," he huffed, wandering off, "Don't you forget it."

"Fuck you, you stupid piece of shit... I'm not about to suddenly forget you. Quit giving me shit to remember and hate you by."

But of course, by the time I finished that thought he was already gone. Which was just as well. There's no point in wasting your sentiment on someone who won't be able to fucking remember it.

The Lord Guardian Fracture out.

Wrath is Eternal

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.

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.

...



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.

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.

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?

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]