Comfort

It is nice to be in the company of tolerable people. For several months now, my only company was Haku-chan's pitiful Guard Dog, The Worms in the Ground, The Hallowed I woke up amongst... And Him. And the OTHER Him. Almost makes one forget that you were dead just two weeks earlier. Memory is a strange, strange thing. So easily manipulated and fooled. You know that thing the Police used to do where the lined suspects up against a wall? You want to know why it usually did not work? The idiot witnesses always assumed that the Criminal they witnessed must be amongst the crowd of look-a-likes. So they pick the one that looks most like their memory. And their memory suddenly gets "Clearer" once they pick. I do not think I have to tell you why. And so an innocent is accused. And maybe even pays the price for another person's sin. Life is unfair isn't it? All due to the power of memory and stupidity. Two things I have oodles of, bouncing around my head like so many soccer balls.

It is funny. I have been looking around at the new blogs. Ones I have never seen before. The new people with new stories and backstories. A few of my old "friends" remain. Good old Nick, Haku-chan, Konaa... I remember a time when there were all sorts of Goody Two-Shoes running around trying to stay alive. Most had to morally difficult situations, and most had to face the harsh realities of life. The sadist in my loves this stuff. The selfish sadist in me is sad. Do you know why? 

I remember when Haku-chan tried to... Help me. I suppose I appreciated it internally. I was not allowed to show it though. Had to keep barking. WOOF. WOOF. WOOF. DEATH. DESTRUCTION. CARNAGE. DESPAIR. CHAOS. BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD... And so on. I would often leave little hints only I would get, and see if anyone else could understand them. They never did. I mean. I left one two paragraphs up. Soccer Ball. Why did I pick Soccer Ball? I had a reason. I may not talk like a pompous flowery git all of the time like some OTHERS, but I do occasionally indulge in symbolism. Symbolism that only I understand. 

Oh but I know... I know... My adoring fans. I know what it is you are here for. The sick pleasure you gain from hearing about my fun. Don't deny it. You find it amusing. You laugh. You find me adorable in ways. My incompetence and inability to kill off the great HEROES like Sage and Elaine. You know I am not a threat to anyone that MATTERS, right? All those individuals I did manage to kill... They were just names weren't they? Not people. They didn't have any thoughts, any dreams, desires... They just existed for me to run over in a Killdozer or... Drop a safe on their heads. Right? They exist to be slaughtered for your entertainment, and you know I am all too happy to oblige. But OF COURSE, you need not worry about me killing your big HERO. Morningstar couldn't even kill off DANTE. Conveniently ignoring the times I massacred individuals who are every bit as competent and well trained as Lainey was. So how did Elaine and Nick and Valerie and Michelle escape AND defeat me? I do not know. Luck maybe? 

What am I saying. Why am I asking it. Why am I talking like this. I do not know. Blogs are a release, right? You are supposed to post your feelings and thoughts here. And I am doing so.

So what do you want. Recent events? OK. How about this one. Redlight tried to Hallow Joseph. It took David, Nightscream and yours truly to talk him out of it. Given the power of our collective silver tongues, it should unnerve you a bit when I tell you we only BARELY convinced him not to do it. Let me reiterate. Redlight is Smarter than me, he is stronger than me, he can end my life at any time from anywhere, and he is FAR more unstable than me. If you think that sounds like a scary person to meet, imagine working for him. I have this new little Red Ruby Ring. Red Stone set in a black band adorned with images of what I THINK are leaves. I hate this goddamn thing but I can't get rid of it.

Probably going to deal with the recruitment crap later this week or early next. I am not looking forward to the next batch of people they send me. I feel so depressed. You would think I would be happier having come back to life, but no. I just can't shake the feeling of unease and unhappiness. Any advice would be welcome. I might even give you quick deaths if you give good advice. Haha. Ha. 

Return to Form

POSTING LIVE FROM THE BAKER SQUAD CAFE. It is a BEAUTIFUL evening. The smell of Coffee in the air. The homey, friendly atmosphere of the Cafe. The sound of faint rain, thunder, the scream of a tortured man, the hum of the tools being used on him. Great Evening. Love every minute. 

I wanted to go visit my good buddy Screamer. One of my teachers back in Proxy Academy (AKA Some warehouse outside of New Jersey). Now. Screamer has hit a rough patch recently. Ran afoul of some... Evil Plague Doctor thing. Real nasty stuff was done to Screamer. What can I say? I was worried. So I entered the cafe in my usual fashion and checked up on Screamer. Screamer is.... Recovering. A little thin (Again. Sorry for the Glomp. No bruised ribs, right?). I was certainly right to be concerned. But Screamer will survive. It always does.

But this lead to some fun where I came along with Joseph, Screamer and Sir-Rapes-a-Lot on a merry quest to execute some kind of... Killsquad. Created by a Sherlock Holmes villain. Tons of fun. So off we went, and soon enough we found them. I bravely attempted to push Commodore Rapist out of the way, but I... Tripped and landed behind him where the bullets could not hit me. Fortunately, he was not hurt. So we decided to split up to force the guys with Machineguns to have to start hunting through terrain that is not helpful to long ranged specialists. 

Old abandoned warehouses, how I love thee. Though I admit I was having some flashbacks to the last time I was in one of those... The Heat... It did not help that I was once again at a disadvantage. This new body controls like a Drunken Rhino. I must have been given the "Tackle Fucking Everything" model. Not even one of the sleek new modern ones either. Good upper body strength though. I preferred my legs, but I adapted well enough. The Killsquad Grunt wasn't particularly agile in that body armor of his. I made sure to let him know how slow he was. He really was keeping me too long. Taking his fucking time or something... Of course so did I, and my HAT paid for it. The Son of a Bitch SHOT MY GODDAMN HAT RIGHT OFF MY HEAD. I LIKED THAT HAT. 

So I ran to the next fork in the maze and stayed in the path to the left. I threw a brick into the one on the right. Predictably, he checked his corners first. On the right side. All the time I needed to blast him with a Fire Extinguisher. He was surprisingly calm in trying to escape from it, but again. He was slow. Bashed him in the face with the Extinguisher a few times. Received a kick to the groin for my troubles, but he isn't the only one wearing a bit of body armor. Several more hits to the face and he was out cold. I dragged his ass back outside where I linked up with Screamer and David. And then we saw Joseph going apeshit on one of the soldiers bodies. Which was surprising. He seemed like the most rational, sane, person here. We got him to stop eventually... But I was NOT getting near Mr. Stabbity when he was like that. 

So we took our new captive buddy back home with us and removed that delightful false tooth cyanide pill thing he had. I think he is enjoying the atmosphere. We are letting him stew in the torture room (Every Cafe has one). We took a few Pedestrians Hostage, and started torturing them in the room beside it. Now. Soldier Guy can't SEE it. But he can hear it. We come in every once in a while and make him think we are starting the torture at last. But then we leave. Tons of fun. I can see him starting to get twitchy. He won't last too much longer. The anticipation is KILLING him.

His blood tasted Good. Soon I'll get a second helping. Gotta love the service here. Always smiling. 

Everyone is Fucking Dead

Now that my story is over, it is time to return to what I do best: Bitching on a blog. Today's topic? WHERE THE FUCK IS EVERYBODY.

My memory is still a little shoddy, as a side effect of. You know. Memory transplant. So we've got all these new kids. "Joseph" and the Baker Street Team... FreedomCaged... Goose and Fracture.... Raggedyman. Amy. Zephy. Ben. And other people. Did everyone I know just... DIE? Except Sagey, Haku-chan and Konaa?

Where are all the INTERESTING people. You know. The Arkadys, the Maduins, the Zeros, the... God Forbid... Roberts. Do you Unworthy Runner trash not have LEADERS anymore? Did we finally kill them all? That CAN'T be right, since I was brought back. Hahahahaha. Ah... Officially I was brought back Five days ago. The Early Morning hours of a Friday the 13th. The Irony is not lost on me.

... At least one thing hasn't changed. The metric TON of paperwork I have to do. Only this time it is like... Reinstatement or some shit. It is SO... BORING. But this is a license to have fun. So I gotta do what I gotta do. 

So lets talk about upcoming events, shall we? I need to:

1. Go find Screamer and make sure he/she/it is recovering OK.

2. Get a new Team Together. I am thinking tryouts. Put an Advertisement on Craig's List or something.

3. Get some Blonde Hair Dye. I cannot stand this goddamn hair. 

The Fun Begins Again

The music that was my sole comfort in this dark pit suddenly became more cheerful. More familiar. I saw images that pleased me. Those people who saw my condition and did NOTHING about it. Those teachers who IGNORED my pleas for help. Those police officers who were TOO BUSY stuffing their fat FACES full of donuts and checking for half of the community's Green Cards. All of them. Ever single one. I saw on the ground. In the trees. Blood soaked and maggot infested. Bones broken and eyes gouged out. Mouths sewn shut to take from them the release of screaming. AND THEY DESERVED WORSE. I saw my kills. Knife thrust through the old farmers gut. The crack of the baseball bat as it connected with the baby's head. The SCREAMS of the security guards as they were flattened beneath the Killdozer.

I finally remembered my name, my identity. Morningstar. I was Morningstar.

My body felt like it had been sitting on that hard stone for eons. Bones cracked as I stood up. My stomach screamed for sustenance. I felt weak. The lightning from the storm illuminated a door atop a short flight of stairs. Slowly, ever so slowly I ascended. The door was unlocked, and behind it a blinding light nearly staggered me back into darkness. But I pressed on, half blind, shivering and starving. It was a large house. Mansion like, beautiful colors and scents were all around. But there was still that maddening silence. I thought I could still hear the sounds of the tools breathing beneath me.

As I gawked at my surroundings, something caught my eye. I wandered over to an unfamiliar face staring at me. Raven hair and deep blue eyes. Like my father's eyes. I hated them. We stared at each other for the longest time before I realized who I was looking at: Myself. This was a mirror. This was MY face. But... This WASN'T MY FACE. THIS WASN'T ME. I looked into his eyes and beheld fear and shock. My fear and shock. His fear and shock... I ran away from the lying reflection... And saw something far more horrible. Standing in the Hall. Amber Eyes on a familiar face, beneath a blood red hood, hovering above a grin that no human should be capable of making. I knew, in the moment I looked into his eyes, that I was standing in the presence of The Devil himself.

Through the Darkness of Memory

I stared into the darkness for what seemed like an eternity. My mind began racing. "Where were the flames? The cruel amber eyes? Why could I not hear his voice?" Rain and the soft breathing of a dozen or more tools were only companions until a flash of lightning illuminated Him. Standing Tall and regal, a King with no equal, eyeless but all seeing, ear less but all hearing, voiceless, but singing the most beautiful music ever heard by mortal ears. Images were conjured in my mind. Buildings, Trees, Cars, People. People. Cold blue eyes as frigid as deathly winter above a frown of disapproval, a deep voice telling me what a failure I was. Long blonde hair framing the same eyes, beautiful but equally as cold, telling me that she wished I had never been born. As slammed door that first opened just a crack, and then crossed the threshold between my world and theirs; a reflection of me, if I had been so fortunate to not have been second best; those same eyes warm but afraid, filled with sorrow but lacking the courage to act on my behalf. He hugged me close, most likely feeling my jutting bones poke into his form.

The comfort could not last. Blue turned to blue, skin cool to the touch, waterlogged, sinking. I cried and wept, alone, for what seemed like forever. But His music comforted me.

It was a Dark and Stormy Night...

... The Pitter Patter of rain outside the small window, and the occasional crash of thunder are intermixed with the sound of soft breathing. It is a storage room, filled with people... Ex-People. Creatures that no longer think for themselves. That are incapable of thinking for themselves. The flash of lightning illuminates the room, revealing the blank empty faces sitting upon the cold stone floor. Tools, awaiting the chance to be wielded by their Master. My eyes were already open, staring into the darkness. I was unaware of myself for the longest time. I blinked once. Twice. Three times. And I remembered my final moments. The heat of the flames licking against my broken body. Amber Eyes glowing with amusement at the edge of the flames. The building I fell from becoming engulfed in the inferno. And then darkness. The darkness I awoke in. 

Six Months six days and six hours after the day that I died.