Friday, May 25, 2012

Yeah we're back

Stuck in a goddamn labyrinth for... Fuck if I know. Yeah Hi everyone, Gleeman here. Alive, barely, and pissed off. So lets get the obvious question out of the way. "Where have we been?" Well kids. I think we've been in hell, or if it wasn't hell, the closest thing to hell.

Before I begin recapping what happened, I need to mention that I am fucking flying right now. High as a kite or a bird or... thing that is high. A cloud. Hope spellcheck does it's job.

Now Imagine if you will, waking up one morning, getting ready for work, eating fruity pebbles for breakfast and being told you are going to go investigate rumors of an organized armed gang of people. Moriarty Thugs. The squad commander issues a dramatic command along the lines of "rip them to pieces for the glory of God" or something. We come to find out that these thugs are fucking commandos with automatic weapons. A few seconds later Morgan is ripped to shreds by a wall of bullets and the rest of us scatter and try not to die. I got shot in the ass and fell down thinking that that was it. A humiliating anti-climactic death at the hands of a real life storm trooper. I blink a couple times and find myself staring into a pair of amber eyes. That asshole.

So Valtiel told me I was gonna be stuck in this labyrinth loop thing until some time in a couple months. Then he fucking left me there. Homey place, really. Comfy Couch full of holes. Creaking noises all the time at JUST the worst times. Just enough food and water around to survive, a television that has eight channels, all of which are different forms of static. Most of the time. A few books laying around too. Horror books too, go figure. Didn't really care for them honestly. Had to keep all the windows shut due to the sounds of GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING LITTLE SHIT CHILDREN playing and running around outside. Somewhere. I never actually saw them. I could hear them though, and every time it reminded me of why I hate the little bastards. Uh... Sorry I'm rambling I think. But that was basically my entire life for the past few months... Recluse, Jack and Tiger look to be in similar shape. Doubt they wanna talk about it. Who can blame them?

Not sure who to fucking blame for this. Morgan maybe, but he's dead so I can't take my frustration out on him. Fuck it. I'll blame Moriarty. My ass is SCARRED now. Fucking SCARRED. Anyway, I hear we are going on an easy mission in a day or two. A standard find a stalked person and kill her family. Kidnap her dog. Paint operator symbols on her walls and windows. The usual. We'll probably have to let the backup squad take care of Anti-Moriarty stuff, and given that the assigned leader seems to be a few legionaries short of an army, I have some doubts they will last long.

Now. I am fucking going to bed. Also fuck off Nightscream, I don't need mock sympathy.


  1. ... Congratulations on not being dead.
    I can hardly say that you've come back to much that's worth living for.

    1. I'm sure that little problem could be sorted out in no short order neighbour.

    2. Kid, I am not afraid of someone whose username implies incredible clumsiness.
      Also good to see your alive Joseph.

    3. You know, Trips, that comment could easily be misinterpreted as you saying you'll make Gleeman's life worth living. Any shippers out there care to run with this?