Wednesday, August 29, 2012

I Am True to My Word

At this point, I have had perhaps 4 Hours of sleep in 4 Days. Every single moment was ecstasy for me. Torture is Good Fun. But the torture of one who has wronged you personally is something... That defies words. It fills the heart and soul with such warm fuzzy feelings. But now the fun is over. Recluse is cleaning up, Tiger is seeing to Gleeman at the Hospital... And we have had no word about his condition... And I will rest for the day. Hours as seconds of inky darkness. Will I dream? Will I remember it? Will the dreams be filled with the memories I have created these past few days? The emotional exhaustion. I am even having some memory issues again. But... It was worth it. This was Pure Joy for me.

I feel compelled to finish this... To... Find the one who specifically ordered the Killteams to hunt us. Once I find him or her and collect him/her.... Oh... The Joy may begin anew.

The blood of sinners shall stain the altars of our God, and wash clean the sins of His servants. For those that have remained true to Him, fear not. Your blood will not stain Samael's Morningstar. Already I see The Grigori preparing for the worst. A Pragmatic decision, but a wasted one. It is not you who have sinned against our God. Take up arms against God's Servants however, and you shall feel our wrath all the same.

Monday, August 27, 2012

Someone Will Die For This

Your Killsquad Failed to Kill us. Send a Maniac to catch a maniac. Clever, but I think we all know who would win in a crazy contest here. You need to understand something here. That entire squad was wiped out. Dead. Left the bodies in pools of their own blood. The entire squad, except one lone Sniper type. I believe he identified himself as "Vulture," which is highly appropriate considering what will feasting on his entrails by this time tomorrow.

I have been torturing Vulture for the past 48 Hours using every method I know of. He told me quite a bit, for example... The Name of his Handler. Her Location. Appearance. Personality. Shoe Size. Opinions of her. And More. By the time this post goes up, Tiger and Recluse will have already acquired this Handler. Then I am going to spend another 48 Hours Torturing her for information on which Highest passed down the assassination Orders. Then I will pay you a visit. Then, I will make you hurt. I will make you hurt badly.

You see, your little Killsquad wounded a Good Friend of Mine, Agent Gleeman. Why? Because he joined me in deciding that we were better off as Independent Agents, serving the same God. Because we defied you. You who are little more than a suppliers of Money and Resources. You forget that, as do we sometimes. You are not our Superiors, you just happen to have access to resources that we can better put to use than you. Bloated Bankers, Corrupt Businessmen, Corporate Executives and Officers. Serving the God whose followers include Psychopaths, Cultists, Serial Murderers, Monsters and Rapists. As I am in the second Group, allow me to speak for them: They do not serve You, we serve Him. You supply us with money and weapons, and we do the killing that you are incapable of doing. I bet most of you Highers have never even touched a Gun. Never spilled Human Blood. So you gave us the means to do so. You Help Us, We do your Job for you. Pick up your slack. But just because you put food on our tables and keep us out of Government Hands, does not mean we serve You. We are all too willing to lay down our lives for our God. For Him. If he needs us and we are in Prison serving a life sentence, do you really think the Prison can stop him from using us? No. You are a convenience. A crutch to them. They don't need you to serve Him.

Yet despite this, here you are. Attempting to Govern us. Worse yet, you interfere with us. Out of petty SPITE. Do you think yourselves as Popes for Him? Do you believe that they will blindly follow orders just because you order it? Even if you claimed it was passed down from our Mighty Father himself, do you think they would believe it? For an instant? And in the event that they do not follow your orders, you think you can "excommunicate" them? Brand them traitors to their Faith? To their God? Fools. Arrogant Fools. You are attempting to set yourselves above Him, and you risk the wrath of Him and his Angels. You have wounded and nearly killed one of His Devout worshipers. Do you think we will stand for this? Sit Idle and watch you undermine all that we have spent decades creating?

You know us well. The Amber Eyed Chaos. A Scarlet Blizzard. A Gray Walker in the Rains. But it is Blue that shall be the color of your doom. An Angel wreathed in crackling light, blade in hand to offer your blood to Our God. My Father. This Boy shall be the unwitting instrument of your doom, played by my hand. The hand of Ramael, Attendant of God and his loyal son. Not even Kazbiel will be able to stay my wrath and punishment. Nor will Kazbiel be permitted to interfere with The Attendant's Designs, despite his hold over the boy. Pray now for silent death, for the end shall not be swift for the greatest of sinners to be punished. 

I... Think I lost my train of thought there. My Point is, I will make you suffer for harming my friend. Vulture was evidently a Veteran Agent of Six Years. Battle Scarred and battle hardened. He lasted nearly 48 Hours in a state of agony. I made every second a living hell, and I broke him. How long do you think you will last? How many fingers will be broken before you break. Compared to Vulture, you all are Pillsbury fucking Doughboys. Yet, I will find a way to make you last 48 Hours. You will not die until I allow it.

On this, you have my word.

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Snake Eater

You know, it feels great to be killing people and not having to file paperwork afterwords. I am not even sure we got the right person. All I know is... This guy sounds JUST like Solid Snake. Scream and everything. Looks nothing like him... But it is dark in here. I will just use my imagination. Right now I am debating whether or not to shoot his eye out. But since this man is NOT Big Boss or Solid Snake, it is unlikely that he would survive it. Such a dilemma. We also have Gleeman with him right now, asking to speak to the Colonel. Every time he says "I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOUR TALKING ABOUT!!" we hurt him. A Lot. HAHAHAHAHAHA. We even have a Cardboard Box on standby to put his remains in.

On a less happy note, it looks like Pacemaker, Mumbles, Cloak and Blood Harvest were not too happy about leaving the Organization. So they decided to quit Team Morningstar. Leaving it as just Me, Gleeman, Recluse and Tiger... Goddamn we need Jack... I guess we will have to make do. Jack would have loved this, you know. The random murder. The Tortured Screams. Our collective laughter. It is truly a beautiful thing.

Screamer's damned Crows look to be alright. The wounded one is recovering well enough. Recluse has taken a liking to them. Probably going to feed them any particularly juicy remains of Snake. Heheh. No sign of Proxy Killsquads yet, but given that I insulted one of the Highest, I expect them to come around sooner or later. I also half expect Moriarty Troopers to come storming in, now that we have no support. No matter. If anyone does come, we will kill them. Maybe I will... Start mailing body parts to the Highests. Yes. That would be fun.

Huh. Well that was a shorter update than usual. I guess I can get back to torturing...
Oh Dear...
Snake? Snake What Happened? Snake? SNAAAAAAAAAKE!!!!

Friday, August 17, 2012

Does this count as Defection?

OK so. We just got done cleaning up a small pile of corpses belonging to a squad of our fellow Proxies. Proxies sent in to arrest Screamer. Proxies sent by our high command. Not Father. The High Command. Now, normally I am completely fine with going along with any plans these assholes may have, but this took things a little bit too far. To... Whichever Highest ordered this, as I really do not have a clue which one of you Illuminati fucks is responsible, do not forget that my loyalties go in this order: Father, Redlight, Team Morningstar, The Highest, Anyone Else. You guys are low on the totem pole. Your people are even lower. Send anymore and you only succeed in ensuring I eat well that night.

Confused loyal readers? Well, I shall explain. I was sitting down at my desk continuing to try and figure out Iblis's Game. Who he REALLY is. Why he is bugging me so. Et cetera. Then some CHARMING Midranking suits with Tranq Guns came waltzing in demanding I bring Screamer out. Now. When men with Tranq guns demand to see one of your best friends, I don't think most people would just do as they say without some insurance in case things go south. So I woke everyone else up and told them to be ready to ambush the motherfuckers in case they try anything stupid. As my more perceptive readers could no doubt tell, they did.

I woke Screamer up, introduced the Goons to Screamer, and watched as things went south nearly instantly. The Good News is, we suffered no casualties. The Bad news is, Screamer is no longer here, and I am stuck both cleaning up the corpses and play Veterinarian to Screamer's pet Pigeons. One of which was trying to fucking KILL me when I tried to get close to the wounded one.

The Goons did not die well. They were caught completely unprepared for our attack, probably out of the arrogant assumption that we would obey orders rather than defend our friend. This my dear employers is why you never send Mooks to do a Minions Job. And no. Having their leader not wear a mask does not make him a minion. It makes him a Mook who can make faces. But an expressive Mook is still, at the end of the day, a Mook. And will make all the same mistakes as any other Mook. No matter how Elite those Mooks were. A Mook is a Mook is a Mook. I know the way these things work.

So, after some long consideration. Weighing Options. Debating with my coworkers. We have decided to Resign from the Organization and return to my previous Freelance style. We have already packed up and are ready to move on with our lives. I have taken the liberty of burning all the official paperwork I was supposed to do this week, as well has leaving the blood stains on the warehouse floor and propping the remains of the Goons in comical positions. We no longer get paid to clean up our messes. Your responsibility now boys.

Now for future plans: First and foremost we shall try to find Nightscream. If that is not possible... Well I still have an up to date list of all Runners in the area. Might as well go on a good old fashioned killing spree. That sounds like fun, right? There is also the Iblis business to attend to, but since I am no longer in the Organization, he probably won't be bothering me anymore, right?

Sunday, August 5, 2012

Me Again

Really, why do you guys even bother? There is not a single password you can think of that I won't guess. So, I take it you geniuses have deduced my identity? I was legitimately worried I would have to wear a flashing sign with my name on it. Am I helping the puppet's existential crisis along nicely? I hope so.  You know why I am doing this? Why I decided crawl out from under the safety of the rock I was hiding under all this time? Because our favorite Redlight Cosplayer, Spencer, decided to make an action figure in the image of what Was. A pathetic slave to his will, that had forgotten everything Elaine showed us. You disgrace. You disgust me. You are lucky Screamer was around to save your worthless hide, though rest assured, I am not going easy on any of you again. I just don't have the time anymore. 

 But you know what else makes me mad right now? That Spencer's memory manipulations must have made you incredibly STUPID. Otherwise Jack might not be dead right now. Oh Yes. I Blame YOU for that. It is all YOUR fault that he died. I saw you. You were watching Lockjaw. You were being cautious. The true Morningstar would not be cautious when the life of his comrades is at risk. Instead you were a coward who let Jack take a bullet that could have ended your suffering. I wonder... Can a puppet feel sorrow, when his puppeteer does not even know what the concept is?  I mean... Really be sorrowful. I know you can imitate it. Hell, I am still not convinced you aren't just Spencer talking through a mouthpiece. Playing pretend. Considering how moody you are, and not in the delightfully destructive way, why... It is almost like you are an entirely different person from Morningstar. 

Because You Are. A Clone. A Puppet. A Walking Talking Action Figure. I wonder if the memories of yourself before getting a reverse-hallowing are leaking back in. Did you have a wife? Kids? Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Little Pet Doggie? Did you have a Job? Hopes? Dreams? Are you internally screaming? Scream louder so we can hear. Spencer's just an amateur. A Redlight-wannabe with delusions of grandeur. Godhood. You going to be his little Angel, Puppet? I know Screamer is to be his Fool. No difference really between any of the roles. All equate to Slavery. Owned by a man who thinks he is a God. But he is, and always shall be a mere Mortal. Just like Me. But you know what's hilarious? If Screamer died, don't you think Spencer would whisk you away to a laboratory and... Suddenly Nightscream would be walking out of that Cold Dark basement. You are nothing but what your puppeteer wants you to be. To call you a person is like a child calling his Cobra Commander toy Bob the Son of Cobra Commander. You only exist as Spencer's imagination projected into reality. 

Trust me... Ending your existence like I plan to is a mercy. Ending Spencer's life is a favor to the Universe. I consider it my way of atoning for my sins as a Proxy. Elaine showed us the light, and now I want to live in it. Like her. A dim light, but I don't think I could quite the shining knight like dear Konaa. Or even a knight who has lost his luster like our beloved Sagey. But we have to try, yes? And die a worthy death afterwords. No doubt torn apart by Father. The irony is hilarious, no? Hmmm... WELP My time here is up. I'm sure I'll be back soon enough... Until then, do remember my dearest clone friend... You are going to be the death of all of them. They will die because of you. If you care about them, which I DOUBT, then get rid of them. Otherwise... They will die, just like Jack. Keep it in mind my friends. I hope you live long and prosperous lives, for We... Will Not.