Friday, July 27, 2012

O, Death

'O, Death. O, Death.
Won't you spare me over 'til another year?

We returned from the Lockjaw assassination. The mission was... A success. A disastrous, bloody, success. Nightscream is making a post detailing what happened, but... I feel the need to give my account as well. I am... Unsure if our accounts will even match up, given the surreal and shifting nature of the location. Lu Bu finally cracked, you see. He told us Lockjaw's location rather early on in the torture. Not that we could risk Lockjaw finding out from this blog. A bit of backstory for you: A few... What is it... Months ago? A few months ago Nightscream was being hunted by a fear called The Plague Doctor. Screamer managed to elude the abomination by manipulating a confrontation between it and our Father in a cult town. This Cult town has since been off-limits to all in our family. Lockjaw for some reason, decided to make her base of operations inside one of the buildings, but we did not know which one. Given the importance of our mission, or perhaps out of a desire to see Nightscream dead, our leaders gave permission for us to enter the Town. We were to bring the entire team, plus Nightscream's specialists.

Well, what is this that I can't see
With ice cold hands takin' hold of me

Well I am death, none can excel
I'll open the door to heaven or hell

 I was, and am, still recovering from the ichor infection gained from my screw up in the battle with Lu Bu. I was not at my best, not that I think it would have mattered. The infection may have... Done things to my perceptions of reality. Or perhaps it made me more... Sensitive to these sorts of things. I do not know. The Town looked normal from a distance. Rather small, but with old timey buildings. A large church. Playgrounds. An old mine. But even as I looked on, I felt this... Dull pain behind my eyes. I tried to dismiss it. Ignore it. But it wouldn't go away, no matter how hard I tried. It got worse and worse as we approached the town. This dull ache. Pounding. Pounding. Harder and Harder.

'O, death' someone would pray
'Could you wait to call me another day?'
The children prayed, the preacher preached
Time and mercy is out of your reach

I had a brief reprieve when several figures caught my attention. A Friend of Screamer, and another group. Waxed Robes, Black Hoods and White Bird Masks. All stained blood. Oathbreakers. Their leader seemed familiar with Nightscream and they bantered a bit. Hardly good-natured banter, but at least they were not hostile. God knows we would not have walked out of there at all if we had to fight the Oathbreakers on top of everything else.  The Oathbreakers apparently had an interest in removing Lockjaw as well. The enemy of my enemy is my... Uneasy Ally. I really don't see us inviting each other to birthday parties, despite this little bonding session. One chair empty...

I'll fix your feet 'til you can't walk
I'll lock your jaw 'til you can't talk
I'll close your eyes so you can't see
This very hour, come and go with me

With the formalities out of the way, we turned out attention to the Town. We expected Lockjaw to have some traps laid out for security's sake. We were not exactly sure what building she was in either. Headache aside, the town didn't look so bad. Then we entered it, and I think everyone felt it. I cannot quite tell you what "it" was, but it was something. A feeling. One that no amount of words would be able to adequately describe. I noticed Mumbles acting uncharacteristically animated. Eyes darting to every shadow, limbs trembling. I pointed it out to Gleeman, and he went back to try and help Mumbles along.

The first thing we noticed was a child's bicycle laying on the ground. One wheel spinning in place, as if it was freshly abandoned. Ashes and Dust. A child's shadow. Shadows with eyes. Burned into the walls and floors. And my head was aching. The pounding was... Cutting then. Sharp. None of the others saw him, but I did. When Screamer's Butler friend tried to stop the wheel, he paid for it. Didn't die though. A warning maybe. The town was aware of us. And the others were beginning to become aware of it.

I'm death I come to take the soul
Leave the body and leave it cold
To draw the flesh off of the frame
Dirt and worm both have a claim

 This place was a wound. Black Leaves upon the branches of a twisted tree, roots tearing into a white house. Children's Swing Set swaying back and forth. The air was so still. All was Ash and Shadow. Black Leaves and Shattered Stone. Sulfur was in the air, and blood. The streets were soaked with fluids from a source I do not dare think of. Always Red. The Sewer Grates were no help. Occupied by something. Twitching and writhing. Staring into oblivion. The corners of my eyes were haunted by shapes without form. My ears strained were filled with the sounds of our footsteps, our breathing. Heartbeats. Blood Flowing eager to dampen the street. The others had eyes forward, minds didn't want to see the Town. The Town wanted us to see. Wanted us to join the Shadows painted on the walls. The Ash in the air. But worse yet was what was real. Looping forever in the instance before they ceased to be. Phone Ringing inside a house, never stopping. Music was static. Televisions speaking with the voices of Shadows. That GODDAMN BELL. Making my head want to explode. Made it stop. Didn't help though. Town didn't like it.

 O, Death. O, Death.
Won't you spare me over til another year?

 When I shot the bell, a shift happened. Not unlike being forced on the Path. Arrived in some basement. Eyes everywhere. Watching from every Shadow. They were every shadow. The others finally saw them. Reminded me of my birth. Darkness. Only the breathing of my kin to keep me company. Wanted to sleep. Could not. I had a mission. There were gunshots. I radioed in to ask what was happening. Caesar, Nightscream, Recluse and Screamer's Friend nearly killed each other by accident. I left the basement and my kin behind. Rocking Chair still rocking, forever. We met up in the street. Nightscream blamed me. Threw birdseed. Made me feel better. Wonder if the seed is still laying there. Or is it caught in a loop too? The streets were clean now. Black Leaves floated through the air on a breathless wind.

My mother came to my bed
Placed a cold towel upon my head
My head is warm my feet are cold
Death is a-movin' upon my soul

 As we went deeper into the town, I could hear the whispers. Mumbles heard them too. Stopped... Jack... Goddamn it Jack... Why him? Why? Stopped Jack from going inside. That door was death. The Gate to Hell. Mumbles knew. I had a feeling. It hurt to be near it. I wanted to leave. Could not. Made Jack get away from the door. Not long after, another shift. Caesar tripped an explosive. Probably from Lockjaw. Angered The Town. Nightscream grabbed me and arrived in a theater. Faces on the screen watching. Pleading. Shadows cheering forever at the screen. Silent applause. The others checked in. Most of them anyway.

Oh, death how you're treatin' me
You've close my eyes so I can't see

 Moving on and on. Ever forward, never backward. Except when we were. With the shifts, directions had little meaning. The Shadows followed closely. Like lost and confused children. The Morning Star was once used by sailors to guide their way. I wonder if they could see the light from the flashlight. A Light in the Darkness. Maybe. Nightscream thinks I was using it to keep them away. Pointless. They would not interfere. Knew what was to come. Maybe why they did not take Lockjaw with them into darkness. Knew her part in all this, small though it might have been. Scrambler contacted us and told us he had spotted Lockjaw. Didn't last long. Joined the shadows like Caesar. An eternal purgatory. Still, we knew were Lockjaw was now. Screamer had an... Idea. Backdoor into Lockjaw's hideout. Beneath the shattered stone of the Town. The Church concealed the path, but we found it rather easily. Small Tunnels, damp and dark. The Shadows would not follow us here. Too much of their loved ones blood had been spilled in the depths, on the altar to our Father.

Well you're hurtin' my body
You make me cold
You run my life right outta my soul

My Head cleared as we went down... Down into the Bowels of the Earth. We saw light at the end of the tunnel, and walked into a strange setting. White everywhere, carved with the devotion of a Cultist craftsman... Or with fear and anguish from a captured architect. Perhaps both. It showed and felt. But there was something new, something that did not belong. Cheap furniture. Tasteless. Electronics, computers. I half expected to see a shark pit, or a death laser somewhere around. Lockjaw was there, but she was not the one that had my attention. She was speaking to a Masked Man on a Laptop. The Laptop was in the possession of another Man, clad in blood red hooded robes. Within this hood was a Blank White Mask. From behind the mask, two sky blue eyes. At his hip, a Sword. Screamer and I were about to attack when Lockjaw spoke to us. I didn't pay attention to what she said, as my attention was focused on her companion. Something about him was... Familiar. Extremely familiar. His eyes were upon me as mine were on him. I could see the hatred he had for me. Feel it even. I don't know why. Nightscream began to move, and that snapped me out of my hesitation. Lockjaw was speaking

Oh death please consider my age
Please don't take me at this stage
My wealth is all at your command
If you will move your icy hand

The fool was trying to make a deal with us. Report her death and she will give us all sorts of fun little information. It was not worth paying attention to. She was going to die here, hopefully along with the Masked Man. She identified him as "Iblis." Probably the same one who hijacked my account. We said No, and triggered a bloodbath. Lockjaw had people, more traitors it seems, with her. Our group and theirs fought. Iblis killed Fairy and Mordred. No big loss. Lockjaw managed to kill Yellowbeard. Plumber died in the melee. But they lost more than we did. Lockjaw was fighting with Screamer. Winning, until Jack... Poor Jack... Charged Lockjaw, intending I think to cut her open and she... THAT FUCKING MISERABLE BITCH I WILL SEE HER IN HELL AND... She shot him... In the head. I don't quite remember what happened after that, myself. But when it was over, Lockjaw was dead. Tiger, Recluse, Gleeman and I standing over Jack, with Lockjaw's blood on our hands. Once I recovered myself, I remembered Iblis. He fled down one of the tunnels and I went after him, as he needed to pay for his part in this. For Jack. 

The old, the young, the rich or poor
All alike to me, you know
No wealth, no land, no silver no gold
Nothing satisfies me but your soul

His costume slowed him down significantly, as did his briefcase. I tackled him, hoping he would go down quickly. He did not. He was wearing metallic shoes... A light metal, but it still hurt when he kicked my head. I recovered, and so did he. I attacked him with my knives, but he had a sword. Much as it pains my ego to admit it, he was much better than I. Furthermore, he was wearing some sort of armor beneath the robes. My knives were useless. I managed to hold him off, but it was useless. Screamer arrived just in time for me to get nearly... Cut open. I thought I was going to die. Join Jack. Join the Shadows of this town. I awoke in the vehicle, speeding back to a safehouse. Iblis managed to beat Nightscream, and got away. Bastard... But Tiger managed to carry me out, and the Oathbreakers patched me up. And the others. Everyone was wounded in some way. But Lockjaw was dead, the mission complete. The Town was satisfied. Since then, I've been here... Recovering from the various traumas. Mental from the Town. Psychological from Jack. Physical from Iblis. Had an Old Dirge from around the place Morningstar grew up. Stuck in my head. Seems fitting. The Funeral is tomorrow. Another piece of my old life... Gone. Gone. Gone. Jack was a... A homicidal lunatic, completely insane. But Goddammit all... He was my friend. He was hilarious. He was adorably stupid. He was... Gleeman, Tiger and Recluse are not taking it well. Especially Gleeman. I wish we could have taken Lockjaw alive. She didn't suffer enough, I would have made her agony last for weeks. I would make her beg for death, but I wouldn't grant it. Oh no. I would break her. I would break her so utterly, she wouldn't even remember what death is. I would have unmade her. But I can't. Instead I must take solace in the fact that she now suffers an eternal purgatory. Perhaps locked in that town with the others. Perhaps in the cold embrace of the Father she turned her back on. It will have to be enough.

 O, Death. O, Death.
Won't you spare me over 'til another year?

Addendum: Here is Screamer's Account of what happened. Might be a bit more coherent than mine or something. I didn't bother reading it myself. No need to remind myself of the Town. That Rotting Wound of the landscape...

Friday, July 13, 2012

בנו של בוקר

HELLO LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! Do NOT be alarmed, but this blog has been HIJACKED! You can call me Iblis, and I will be your antagonist for this evening. Which, given the nature of this blog, makes me the Good Guy. WHO KNEW, RIGHT? Now I know what you are thinking. "Who is this dashing rogue who would DARE to steal OUR spotlight?" and "What could this handsome genius' dastardly plan be?" Or perhaps you simply want to know WHY I bothered to steal "Morningstar's" account from him... And change the password I might add (Nothing too complicated I promise. Wouldn't want you "geniuses" to strain yourselves figuring it out). These are all very good questions, and you know what? I will tell you what I want. I want you, Gleeman, or perhaps you, Screamer, to put that fucking doll out of his misery, and ours. We have asked you to do this... Twice before, I think. Since you promptly ignored our anonymous comments, we decided to take a more... Noticeable approach. 

Now according to our GLORIOUS math skills, the odds of you actually doing what we say are somewhere in the neighborhood of "slim" and "none." This is only a small setback, as we will simply kill him and his turncoat bastard puppetmaster in due time. Thing is, we REALLY would rather not have to hurt you guys. Tiger, Screamer, Gleeman, Jack, Recluse... We like you guys. You make us laugh, smile. We want you to have a LONG and prosperous life. Hmmm. But sadly... I suspect you won't just let us off your precious puppet buddy. Nevertheless, I shall continue to try and convince you. So, let's look at the evidence of this thing NOT being Morningstar and in fact being a cheap knockoff of the real thing deserving of immediate execution. 

He does not have Morningstar's full memories. He completely lacks the memories of time spent with Elaine Logan. Absolutely NONE of those conversations have leaked through, and the best part is, he probably has a perception filter on the posts from Take the Myth that have ANYTHING to do with him. Gee, I wonder who we have to thank for THAT.

2. Look at his fucking text
If you have not noticed, that Communist Serial Mind Rapist LOOOOVES the color Red. Being an arrogant son of a bitch, he likes to have everything he touches have some of that wonderful color on it. I find it hard to believe none of you self-professed master survivors and professional assassins would have noticed RED FUCKING TEXT The Puppet writes in. The REAL Morningstar would have, from a purely thematic standpoint, chosen YELLOW or GOLD. Like Light. Or the color traditionally associated with Lucifer. So why did he choose red? The answer is simple. The one making him dance on his strings is obsessed with the color. He did not think it would make a difference in hiding his deception. AND YOU MORONS FELL FOR IT.

3. His Comedic Creativity is on par with the likes of Carrot Top and Carlos Mencia
Look, I am not saying I am a George Carlin level comedian here, but I know comedy. The Original Morningstar also knew comedy. This Puppet? Not so much. Original Star was amusing and creative. Which this imitation is most certainly NOT. He is a stale joke. One that has run it's course like a sickness. You lot represent antibiotics in this little metaphor. You can make this quick and relatively painless for everyone. Treat the symptom and make it easier to kill the source of the problem. We on the other hand, represent White Blood Cells. It takes longer, but leads to the same thing. Just more unpleasant for all involved.

4. Nightscream
Look Sweetheart, I know how trusting you are and gullible when dealing with a pretty face like his, but you are an IDIOT if you even suspect that the intelligence hiding behind those DASHING GOOD LOOKS belongs to anyone but the Crimson King himself. When you put your trust in him, you are putting your trust in REDLIGHT. I think you know what a bad idea that is. Do not believe me? Why else would he be acting so... VULNERABLE? Conflicted? SCARED? Do not forget who you are dealing with here. Do you not remember this monster when he was masquerading as a man? All he has to do is tap into that again. Master of crocodile tears and "Oh woe is me, and my poowr impwanted memowies and feaws of being mistwusted." For your own good, do. Not. Trust. Him. The Ring is the proof.

Now these are just four reasons among MANY others. Now I COULD give some of these others away, but frankly... Why spoil the surprise. In the mean time, consider my words, consider those lingering doubts gnawing at the back of your minds... Why take this risk. Kill him now. 

Or do not. It does not matter in the long run. We will take care of the problem for you if you are too stupid to see it for what it really is. 

Hugs and Kisses everybody.... We will see you VERY soon, if you prove to be as predictable as we know you are. 

Thursday, July 5, 2012

Honorary Leader for a few Days

Fucking Great. I have to manage three teams of these bozos, work closely with fucking NIGHTSCREAM, head the interrogation of Lu Bu, and keep Morningstar from running off to go drown himself.

Anyone remember when I used to just be "That creepy clown guy with the chainsaws"? It was so much simpler back then. Granted, we were doing much crazier shit than we do now. Morningstar was Valtiel's attack dog back then. The Leadership must have liked Valtiel or something, because they didn't swamp us with paperwork like they do now. Good fuckity God, I remember bitching about Morgan never doing anything, but now I know why. So. Much. Paperwork. Mission Reports, Mission Status updates, Squad Status Updates... No wonder Morningstar seems so tired all the time. This kind of work just sucks the energy right outta ya. I don't see us getting the funding we need for like... Killdozers and shit though. What with being associated with Nightscream AND Redlight. Neither of whom the Highers particularly like.

In other news, Morningstar has escaped from being tied to a fucking chair in a locked room exactly 15 times now. Scrambler has been knocked out 6 times, and some of Nightscream's intelligence gathering buddies have volunteered to make sure Morningstar doesn't break out again. Which would be bad. Still got around a week for him to recover. Which means a weeks worth of paperwork for me to fill out for him. I don't get paid enough for this. I get paid to kill people, preferably fucking brats. Not goddamn office drone work. Do I look like an accountant to you? Any of you? Didn't think so.

Also gotta keep track of Lu Bu's torture interrogation sessions. The old fashioned way isn't working very well and he keeps screaming about a "Rematch" and how we "Fear his might" and so on and so forth. Guy's got a hell of a set of lungs on him. Once we get what we need from him, I might cut em out and... Do something with them. Boss Man would know what do with a set of lungs, but he hasn't been in a chatty mood lately. Except to beg us for just a sip of the Fear Ichor. Which we can't do, because we drained the fucking pond already. So I hear anyway. Didn't feel like risking another zombie attack.

The ironic thing is, Morningstar looks closer to what he used to look like now more than ever. His eyes changed color overnight to this... Dull Blue. Skin's got paler too, albeit kind of blueish. He looks like a drowned guy. Which is creepy when you see him fucking staring off into space like he's fucking dead, only to snap up and begin ranting and raving about voices in the water calling to him. How much of that shit did he drink anyway? Probably going to take off one of Lu Bu's fingers for every day Morningstar spends like this, the fucking asshole...

In other news, I am supposed to report the success of Caesar's team against a group of Runners. No casualties again, courtesy of Pacemaker being competent. And once again, the cleanup teams have been bitching at us for being overly messy. I issued a stern mention-my-irritation-at-being-bothered-with-this to Blood Harvest, and left it at that. When you have an scarecrow with a scythe, a drunk pirate, a roman dictator, a plumber, and a clumsy knight on a team, things will get VERY messy. Oh well. At least Mordred is more effective than Angmar ever was. I miss Darkhorse and Baron Samedi though. Professionals through and through, not to mention fairly pleasant company. May they rest in peace, and may Elaine rot in hell.

But enough of my rambling. I have missions to plan for the next... Five-Six days or so. That's how long it takes for the Ichor to leave your system, according to the handy-dandy guidebook to Fears. We'll be back once we break Lu Bu and accomplish our Mission.

Then, we go after Lockjaw.

Tuesday, July 3, 2012


My team and I, Fairy, Montag, and Brown Recluse leapt from the back of our local contact's famed pickup truck: The beast of a vehicle known as Pickup Prime! Immediately, we took our fighting stances.

Before us, lied the deadliest foes legend could provide. Diao Chan, The strategist Chen Gong, and Lu Bu himself!

Lu Bu laughed as he spun that spear in his hands, shouting, "You worms feel that you can match blades with the great Lu Bu!? HAH!"

Then he eyed me. After a long moment, he said:

"You. You might yet give me a CHALLENGE!"

Then the battle commenced.

Immediately, I knew we would have a problem. The Strategist Chen Gong was here. The trouble with strategists: they cheat. He pulled out a pair of Uzi-submachine guns from within the folds of his period appropriate garb! Our team scattered as we had been trained.

Diao Chan drew her odd weapon, and began dueling with Brown Recluse. Our local contact quickly did as was planned, and set up the Ring-ropes on the four closest trees with his piton gun. Brown Recluse would have her wrestling ring for a PROPER duel this day.

I knew that Montag and his axe, and Fairy and his Claymore would be dueling in the woods with Chen Gong. And that left me with the legend himself: LU BU!

My initial movements were those of retreat. I had to make my way back to the pickup truck. Lu Bu's fighting style is not any Kung Fu that is known in our era. His was the ancient Chinese concept of Shou Bo. Shou Bo is, in all honesty, brawling. You were supposed to inform your concept of Shou Bo by watching the animals around you, looking for the swiftness of the deer, the strength of a bear, and several other similar concepts.

But to put into perspective: Lu Bu is one of the greatest warriors of one of the greatest eras of war in Chinese History. And the Chinese spent many, many, many eras perfecting new and interesting ways of killing people. He is one of the greatest brawlers in history, combined with having phenomenal combat experience.

And so I drew my own spear from the bed of the truck, and it was Lu Bu's turn to retreat. Lu Bu's spear is legendary, but now his Shou Bo would face the legendary and deadly spirit of ancient and modern Kung Fu.

Our spears clashed, and began to dance around each other. To duel with spears is to have a battle of reach, and spiraling efficiency. Which of us would find the tiniest point of advantage?

I retreated backwards, realizing already that his spear-work was superior. My weapon was shattered, and I rolled back into the truck. I rolled back out as his spear clattered above the side near where my body had been a moment before. His current spear was not the fake beast of a thing he had wielded for cosplay purposes. No, this was proper bamboo with a steel tip, and it could bend in such a fashion as to strike me within the bed of the trick. But a spear was not my only weapon! I leaped out of the truck armed with my legendary jiang! Also known as a Chinese Longsword.

Though my range was shorter, I certainly had an advantage in speed, which I could press if I got into close quarters with the beast that was Lu Bu.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Brown Recluse trying to use her improvised Wrestling Ring to give herself an advantage. Her wrestling is strong, but Diao Chan had an advantage in speed. I saw the flash of gunfire in the air out of the corner of my other eye.

It was up to me. I had to defeat Lu Bu in order to give future operations, nay this entire battle, any hope of success.

Lu Bu laughed the mad laugh of a warrior, and shouted:

"I had heard of the legendary Crouching Tiger, and his glorious 'Kung Fu'! Tell me, is this the best your Great Skill can accomplish?!"

Great skill is one translation for the term Kung Fu.

I responded, "Fiddler Crab plays BEAUTIFUL MELODY!"

Much as the fiddler crab might seem to play a violin, I deflected a most perfect spear strike toward my face back behind me, and I gripped the spear with my off hand for dear life. I had exactly one chance to seize victory. I pressed down on that spear, pressed the point into the dirt, and then stomped as hard as I could upon it.

His spear broken, Lu Bu was upon me in an instant. My sword was lost as the exchange began, I had to drop it lest he redirect it into my body. Shou Bo met Kung Fu for the first time in many an age.

His fist grazed my temple, my leg grazed his groin, each strike was redirected mere inches from the other's body, and then the distance changed once more.

Leopard hunting Gazelle met Shou Bo's wild boar, White Ape Presents Book met the running deer of Shou Bo, it is all a blur to me. All great battles are a blur. I missed this, this feeling that comes from squaring up with a truly strong opponent.

When Angry Crow spread it's wings, knocking Lu Bu to the floor, I nearly cried. Our duel was over.

His allies retreated into the woods. To be truly effective, we must find a way to get Brown Recluse a proper, portable wrestling ring. There is no other option.

Lu Bu is now in custody. I must mourn, for I do not think I will see a challenge such as him for some time. I don't care if he's merely crazy, this man who thinks he is an ancient warrior of legend proved he deserves that title today.

Sunday, July 1, 2012

Do Not Pursue Lu Bu

Holy Fucking shit did we just get our asses kicked by a fucking cosplayer?

Kids, Old Uncle Gleeman ain't happy kids. This smile of mine? Trying to hide my shame at getting my ass kicked by someone dressed like a Peacock. FUCK. The humiliation isn't the worst part. The boss would probably like for me to ask this nagging question... WHO THE FUCK GAVE US FAULTY INTEL? YOU ASSHOLES SAID THERE WAS NOTHING OF NOTE IN THE AMBUSH AREA!!!! THERE WAS A FUCKING POND FULL OF FEAR!!!! YOU FUCKUPS, HOW COULD YOU MISS A GODDAMN RESERVOIR OF CORPSE FILLED ICHOR?!?!?!

OK. OK. I'll slow down and explain some things... Fuck, what a day... So we are... Were.. attempting to track down a proxy defector named Lockjaw. Lockjaw is believed (Meaning, we know for certain but like to remain "official" sounding) to have been selling Proxy secrets and information to people. Moriarty, and Fear Cultists being the most frequent buyers. Bad news is, Lockjaw is one of those "Elite" trained people that the Highest employ on high risk missions against Fear Cults. Meaning she is good at covering her fucking tracks, and making our job difficult. We've been secretive about who we were hunting for fear that she might find out. Of course, CAT'S OUT OF THE FUCKING BAG NOW THANKS TO THAT SPEAR SWINGING FUCK.

So, Nightscream's people have been running around trying to find leads, while we have been sitting here twiddling out fucking thumbs. Not much else to do since all of our cards and shit were burned by whats-her-name. We finally got a lead thanks to interrogating that Moriarty asshole. The lead eventually told us that a Rake cultist who calls himself "Lu Bu" had purchased information from Lockjaw. Doing a little digging, we found out he was a nutcase who believed himself to be the reincarnation of a Chinese Warlord guy. "Lu Bu" who was, according to Nightscream, supposed to be an ungodly badass warrior. Well I don't know if this idiot really is the reincarnation of Lu Bu, but he certainly kicked our asses soundly...

Nightscream's team made sure he would be at a certain place at a certain time. And we made sure we would certainly be there. We quickly surrounded him and ordered him to give up. He pulled out his fucking spear and said, and I quote...
"YOU DARE" Swings his Spear around "CHALLENGE THE UNFATHOMABLE" Swings again "THE INDISPUTABLE" Swings again "GODLIKE MIGHT" more complicated swings "OF THE GREAT, LU BU?!?!?!?!"
While he was doing his speech, Montag was busy preparing his flamethrower, I had just revved the good ol' chainsaws, Morningstar had knives at the ready, and Cloak had stolen Morningstar's Gun. Again. Mumbles was also doing his Mime thing, but it didn't seem to be working. Or maybe it was and Lu Bu was just too batshit insane for it to affect him. Mumbles refuses to speak of the matter, which is not all the surprising given that he hasn't said a WORD since I met him. Stuck up little french prick. But it was Jack who struck first, and Jack who found out what a bad idea this was. I guess we were too busy staring at that stupid fucking peacock feather thing sticking out of his hair to notice that the guy was clearly in VERY good shape, on top of being about Tiger's size. Jack jumped at the guy and got smacked by that spear. Almost thought he got impaled at first, but no. Just a nasty cut. Might have been that psychotic bastard's way of giving a warning shot.

Fucker was fast too, nearly gutted Cloak before he could get a shot off. About this time, I figured out what the fuck was happening and charged him with my chainsaws. He was smart enough to start running away when I got close. Spear V.S. Chainsaw, I mean... No contest, right? This bit of badassery on my part must of saved Cloak and Jack. So the fucker ran into the woods. Normally our territory, right? So I guess we got cocky. Montag was lagging behind dragging that fucking flamethrower with him, so it was just me, the fucking mime and Morningstar. The asshole stopped short of a pond filled with a bunch of bloated corpses that we didn't make or know about. Based on the fact Morningstar was able to jump on his back and start stabbing, I don't think Lu Bu knew this was here either.

Lu Bu flipped Morningstar off him, face first into the fucking pond, where he started thrashing and underwater-screaming for a bit and then went still. That is when my training kicked in and told me that fucking "Pond" was a GODDAMN FEAR. As I figured this out, I received a kick to the fucking face, followed by the complete annihilation of my red clown nose, and the goddamn Mime went to try and drag Morningstar out of the muck. LITTLE FUN FACT ABOUT THIS FEAR. Those Corpses are NOT FUCKING DEAD. Campers I think they're called. According to what I've been told, they tend to come in stages. Early Stage campers stick around the Fear acting like fucking drowned corpses. Later stages, they pop up and pretend to be actual people. We were dealing with about eight early stage Campers.

So Night of the Living dead fucking happened as Mumbles dragged Morningstar out of the goddamn pond. The ONLY good thing about this, is that a couple of them tried dragging Lu Bu into the pool, and fucking distracted him. Montag finally got here and starting trying to figure out who he was supposed to be roasting, so I told him to kill the fucking zombies. This worked well enough for Mumbles to drag Morningstar out. We then ran like hell back to Jack and Cloak, scooped them up and got back to the Van. We spotted Lu Bu on a fucking horse riding away, with a severed Camper head on his Spear.

We are NOT going after him again. We'll let... Tiger's Group go. Or something... As for Morningstar, well... He isn't in good shape. He keeps rambling on about hearing more voices whispering to him, and missing the taste of that water. Did I mention he looks like a drowned corpse now? We have had to tie him to a fucking chair to keep him from running off to drown himself. I am fucking worried. One of Nightscream's little buddies claims to be a doctor and is "treating" him. I personally think that she is as much a Doctor, as I am. But... Anything to help I guess...

As for the rest of us, Mumbles is a bit scratched up, Jack and Cloak are recovering, and Montag is severely burned over most of his body. Of course, he was like that when we found him, so this is not new news. I for one, am badly bruised and missing my big red nose. I sent in the report about the EAT Ink, and I hear cleanup teams are en route. Gonna drain the pond and keep it in storage somewhere. One of those assholes dropped the ball, and I am gonna BASH THEIR HEAD IN WITH IT if Morningstar dies from this. We are not losing him twice.

All in all... Fuck me. Fuck You. And FUCK Management. Tiger. YOU'RE UP.