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.

17 comments:

  1. A running theme I have noticed is that you all tend to turn on each other and get into fights a lot. I would make a comment about evil being inherently self-destructive, but it would probably sound preachy. So I won't.

    Best wishes to Morningstar and your other injured.

    -M

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    1. "Evil" right. Yeah. Like you're a friggen saint...
      Who's this "you all" you're talking about?

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  2. Let the Puppet die, Gleeman. You know that he is not Morningstar, just memories given form. A shadow of a puppet whose strings have been cut. But this shadow still moves, dancing on crimson strings at the whim of an abomination. Why do you think he chose red as the color of his text? That is the color that consumes his thoughts. Controls his actions. If and When the time comes, do not expect him to show Morningstar's loyalty to you. He is nothing but an extension of Redlight.

    Nightscream is right to be wary of him. Let him die.

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  3. Love and respect amongst thieves and murderers... it's cute.

    You may not believe me, but I honestly hope no one dies.

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    Replies
    1. Ha. Ha. Ha. I hope no one dies, she says. The woman who SET OUT GODDAMN BASE ON FIRE. That is cute.
      And no one said ANYTHING about love. I feel... Sorry for these morons, that's all.

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  4. Your own stupidity marks your downfall. How poetic.

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    Replies
    1. You mean "The stupidity of our superiors" marks our downfall.

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  5. Really not the expert here, but I "think" that stuff isn't necessarily harmful provided he's kept from ingesting more of it... so, solitary confinement for a couple weeks and his body should work it out of his system naturally. Though I'm sure someone more trained in your outfit can figure a way to clear it up faster.

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    1. You're correct. The timeframe varies greatly depending on amount of Ink ingested and the body chemistry of the victim, ranging from a few hours to a few months, but as long as he is kept from ingesting more ink, he should be fine. The problem, of course, is keeping him from drinking it. He'll experience an intense and primal need to seek out sources of ink until the fluid eventually leaves his system, either through perspiration or... ahem... "waste disposal."

      --SΣ

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    2. Perspiration should not be hard to induce, given current weather patterns in the US. Leave him outside.

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    3. For the love of God, how STUPID do you think we are? We have an entire TRAINING MANUAL on how to deal with this exact situation. Granted, half of the advice in it involves shooting the infected in the head, but things aren't THAT bad yet.
      ... Nothing in the book tells us how to stop his endless BITCHING and whining about the "Pretty Voices" and "sweet ichor of the..." etc etc etc.

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  6. That was such a mean thing to say at the beginning, Glee-sama :((((( You should know by now how much ass we cosplayers can kick, desu >:)) ~~<3<3<3.

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    1. 90% of Cosplayers are not threatening in the least. Creepy. But not threatening. You are in the 10%, and so is Lu Bu.

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  7. YES GLEEMAN! THIS IS GLORIOUS! Finally a proper challenge deserving of my skills! Ours will be a battle that will shake the pillars of heaven, and make the gods themselves cheer on our contest!

    NOW! NOW WE SHALL SHOW THEM OUR POWER! CROUCHING TIGER, OVER AND OUT!

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    Replies
    1. ... Yeah. OK. You do that. Just make sure you don't kill him. Yet.

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    2. Got to love that passion.

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