The Rabbit Hole {Book 2, What Should Have Been and Never Was}

Saturday, February 10, 2018

The Culling/251 Acknowledgement

A day later, I called him back to iron out what I wanted in exchange for becoming the proper proxy that the higher ups had wanted since day one.

Just one sentence this time.

"We need to meet, Tag."

-Transcription Start-

Tag: "So, you're back on the payroll. Enjoying your time as a lacky of the hire ups again. But you know they're keeping tabs on you, right?"

Me:"I figured. I know how this goes. Constantly stalking me."

Tag: "Left and right, so like I said. Keep your nose clean.But fuck all, find out what's going on. Even I don't know why they're watching you."

Me: "So basically always act as though I'm being recorded. If it wound up on the news, would she have to move Sanctuary or want to?"

Tag: "Well, no. The Board has already staked too much into it to move it. They'll make that part disappear."

Me: "What do you mean?"

Tag: "Oh they'd make it look like Sanctuary is a burned out patch of land with no strategic value.Mental trickery, bunch of bribes. Like it never existed."

Me: "Kind of like Hogwarts."

Tag:"Yeah, kind of like Hogwarts. Except there's no anti muggle spells. Just armed personnel with an axe to grind."

Me: ".....who will be guarding Rabbit Hole?"

And I need to hire mercenaries. To kill those narcs for you. May I use the slush fund?"

Tag: "Your choice of our finest mercenaries, all expenses paid. And yes, you may use the slush fund."

Me: "Is this a permanent bonus or a temporary one?"

Tag: "Kill those three middle management pukes, and then I'll tell you."

Me: "Fuck. Can I at least get a promotion? Because K8s make shit pay."

Tag:"How about K6 pay with benefits?"

"And you'll owe me one."

Me:"And I will need permanent access to the slush fund. Especially to pay off Sanctuary's mortgage."

Tag:"You're killing me Red. But fine. Deal."

Me:"Fine. One favor that follows the Code."

Tag:"You're no fun, you know that?"

Me:"I will file a formal request each time. I won't ditch the paperwork if I get the promotion.?"

Tag:"And you'll say you're sorry to the Tax Adjuntant for flipping her off. Lady holds a grudge like nothing I've ever seen."

Me: "As long as she frees to help me file my axes."

Me: "I'll finally be getting paid fairly. Thus, I can actually travel to do my job."

"I will ask each time, report each assignment. You can even publish the tame incident reports if you think it will help PR."

Tag:"Make them as gory as you like, you know the higher ups love a good orgy of violence and suffering. Just keep up with your paperwork, and next bonus is sure to be properly handled."

Me: "May I ask if I may make special requests from R & D?"

Tag: "Within reason."

Me: "Or bribing the necromancer to help him fix the broken magic on my healing ability?"

Tag: "You can use the slush fund for that."

Me:"I also need a hush favor, valid for up to one year, in each timeline."

I switch timelines middiscussion. Freya starts actively speaking. "So.. 20 hush favors for 18 deaths and two active timelines?"

Tag:"Fine. Put that in the contract. I'll make it legal."

Me:"We need to put everything in clear writing. Dobyoi formally requests that Sanctuary be on protected status in every timeline."

Tag:"You actually got Dobyoi in on this? Come on, Red. You know even I can't say no to a big (Redacted).?"

Me: "We need additional training classes, both for me as middle management and for the Rabbits."

Tag:"Slush fund."

Me: "I need R&D to create a better version of my Sanctuary slips. Nonfading magic."

Tag:"That can be arranged."

Dubyoi switches forward, her old reptilian eyes littering at Tag in amusement:"

I need special detailed pocketwatches. I will send the specs to you later."

Tag:"Sounds like you're starting some kind of cult. Or underground society."

Lilith comes forward. Her copper red hair growing to the small of her back:

"We need a communication source that will work in every timeline."

Tag:"R&D has a rotary phone for that."

Me:"This will take contacting the Alexandrian library. No. My Rabbits, my land, my rules."

"We have to keep them safe. It's already a stipulation of the top brass that I do this. To pull it off, I need tech and magic. You know how to make this happen. I know you do."

Tag:"I do, but it's going to cost extra to get everything into place."

"But yeah, you're one of my best. I'll expedite the process."

'You'd better deliver, Red."

Me: "You're the one with his neck in a noose. You want this to be a rush order. Make it happen."

Tag: "Fine. But whatever it is they're trying to get from you. Don't let it happen."

"Good hunting. For both our sakes."

Amanda switches forward, a curtain of bruise colored hair slipping over her shoulder as she does so:

"I won't. I will swear in blood not to directly attack the other Fears. I can keep the Rabbits alive in No Man's Land and Underland. I decided we're going with literary quotes for my land since Dobyoi has agreed to help."

Tag: "Fine. That's going to be in writing. No one can break it."

Me:"They can't attack either. Every time you call me Red, my base personality becomes stronger. But in contrast, so does Dobyoi. It's a trade off."

Tag:"Well, you're lucky I enjoy your original nickname,"

Me:"We can write up my formal Code of Conduct, add a few concessions as a good faith move, and put it in the Charter for Sanctuary. Contract must be signed in freshly spilled, nonbespelled blood. If we have to use temporary fizzle magic to make this happen, we need to."

"Proxies and Runners and neutral parties get access to training classes. And They swear They will not cause the Rabbits permanent death. We must be able to retrieve them after their trial in Underland us over."

Tag: "Right."

Tag : "Just do me a favor. Stay alive this time, will you?"

"Hell of a lot of paperwork to bury you again."

Me: "I will swear not to attempt suicide again. Accidental deaths shall have no repercussions."

"You mean those Proxy bodies after Bleeding Tree got done devouring their soul as a power source?"

Tag:"Good. Can't have the last few times put more people in that pretty little head of yours again."

"Well, yeah. You think we just kept leaving you in the ground to rot?"

"But the BT needs fresh meat."

Red: "I get protection for the Red Road."

"All it took was one time of being buried while I was sleeping, and wake to have my pulse start from nothing to heart attack range staring down the inside of a casket lid, to crawling my way through the grave and pulling a Kill Bill on my knuckles to get out, for me to never want to be buried again."

"The Red Road will be repaved and fairy lights put up to illuminate the road. No more Silent Hill darkness."

Tag: "Not sure that's my department, and armed guards can be acquired."

Red: "Freya wishes herself to have access to her occult books and supplies. She wants to apply for shaman training formally with the Cherokee Nation."

Tag:"Would you like nice hopping streetlamps to follow you through checkpoints there, Chihiro?"

"Access to the Cherokee Shaman Tribe? Doable."

Red:"I actually want fairy lights. And sign posts warning visitors of the risks of breaking the Code and leaving the Red Road."

Tag: "Fine, fair lights and warning signs."

Red:"I want jasmine and Japanese cherry trees planted in the areas next to the Red Road to deter
Codebreakers."

" Liliana misses home."

Tag:"Fine. Call Terry in landscaping. He loves decorative trees and shrubbery"

Red:"Cypress trees and mangroves for Amanda. Pictures of her children and proper Wiccan burial for them with trees planted as headstones. She wants her ashes moved to the New Orleans graveyard. Not Marie's graveyard. Don't you dare."

"Proxy protection in all timelines against the other magic factions. Even in the event of war."

"Freya wants permission to kill Tia Dalma."

Tag: "Yes, yes, yes, yes, Don't worry, we aren't that big of assholes, sure, that one is complicated, and absolutely not. In that order."

Red:"She committed a blood offense. I demand retribution."

"She broke the Treaty. You know the price for that."

Me:"You know I can't authorize that."

"You can maim, not kill. Take a finger off or something."

Red: "Dubyoi says off with her fucking head. We keep the head of hers and the narcs on pikes by Rabbit Hole. I want white roses planted around Sanctuary and Rabbit Hole."

"She tried to hex me out of my body. It almost worked. If I weren't dead already, it would have."

"This is nonnegotionable. Contact Higher Management. I'll wait for their answer."

Tag:"Ladies, we've talked about this, you want Dal Matia dead, you go to the Higher ups directly."

"I can send in the form."

"That's about it."

Red:"She broke Their rules. You know the penalty of killing one of my bodies. Of breaking the Rules. She broke every truce that mattered. I get to cut their heads off myself."

Tag:"I know, it's in the treaty. But trust me, all 18 of you don't want to do this."

Me:"No. Call BT. I want to formally call in my token for the hiding from IA for The rape and torture of a K8 by the K-3 agent, David."

Tag:"You're calling in that favor with the BT?"

Red:"You owe me, Tagalong."

Tag: ."..fucking no strings attached policy."

Fine, I'll get you your violent date with Dal Matia. Don't ever say I didn't do anything nice for you."

Red:"Yes. Nonnegotionable, being called in as of now."

Tag:"Fine, but you're personally feeding her body to the Tree."

Red:"I don't want the payoff money. The 5 years lump sum will go straight into investing into businesses we will control and own as our own. Even split of resources we get as profits, distributed to all Rabbits."

Tag:"You want to take your personally earned salary and dump it into your rabbit cage?"

"Fine by me."

Red:"We formally request David himself to make amends, create a truce, and lend his fizzle magic to my personal resource pool. One week notice prior. Regular maintenance. Terms negotiable. I still need to show him what it's like when Catherine rapes HIM."

Tag:"Doable. Might as well fuck up the day of one of the original 12 for some well deserved payback."

Red:"Of course we'll enjoy it. But the point remains. He owes sexual healing and he knows it. It's very little to ask of him, all things considered."

Tag:"Whatever he does to any of you in his spare time is your business. I'll just get the paperwork done."Spare me the details."

Red:"I don't need revenge. All of us together, we will be five hundred and twenty this July. I'm too old to care about old wounds. I just want to be acknowledged as more than a rape doll for Wooden Girl, or a torture pet for David."

Tag:"I always forget that, Red. Fine. All requests and demands accepted, pending approval by Higher Management. Doth I please the queen, this insipid bumpkin for sooth?"

Red:"Dobyoi requests official recognition of the Red Road, Sanctuary, and No Man's Land. She gets formal goddaughter status with the Fears. So all of us do by technicality as hers."

"We need protection, I need protection from Them. All deals are held to the intent of the letter and upheld til the day after eternity ends."

"So no direct intervention, attacks and or psychological damage to the 18 personalities inhabiting the one living vessel."

Tag:"Eternity is a long time."

"Better make it worth their while."

Red: "You people made me into this eldritch mindfuck. Time to claim ownership and make it formal."

Tag:"Don't say I didn't warn you. But fine, I'll put the paperwork through."

Red:"Paid vacation. Travel expenses, food costs, per diem, mileage. I want the Blood Red credit card in my real name. No limit. Only to be used with written permission from higher ups."

Tag:"... Slush funds at your disposal, Red."

Red:"In my real name. So it's legal in all timelines."

"Protection from Proxy assignments on all of my lovers and informants. No more watching as Berserker kill my lovers. Too many of us lost our timeline's future husbands to the Quiet. They get the choice of which timeline to live in."

Tag:"You know you're asking me to bend time and space on a head for you, right?"

"You want the moon and stars while I'm at it?"

Red: "In return, I will be the field agent they always dreamed of."

Tag:"Hefty boast. But fine."

Red:"No more fuck ups. No more suicides. No more Running. No more setting house fires or averting prophecies that are neutral in nature."

Tag:"As long as you deliver and give us what we want in return, you'll get everything you're asking for, Miss Renalda."

Red: "I will write incident reports. I want the cities of Nola and all of Mobile counties as my district and formal territory in Overland."

Tag:"That's for the zoning board to decide, but the chairman owes me a favor."

"Businesses, populations and subsidiaries as well?"

Red:"Complete with recognition as middle management and your equal in status if not rank or salary. I have access and leadership of the Proxy squads in those areas."

Tag: "You know that's going to basically make you just like me, right?"

Red:"Yes. We are reclaiming Nola and the home of Mardi Gras."

"I will still be operating in collusion with you. Out of respect. You are still my ranked superior by experience if not status."

Tag:“Aww. Well that’s nice.”

“But you know that if you or I screw up, we’re both going down for it. Right?”

Red:"I will finally cooperate and become a Proxy. I will be considered a District Manager."

Tag:“Is that how far you’re willing to go?”

Red:"I will make weekly instead of monthly sacrifices to Bleeding Tree."

Tag:“Where are you going to find the bodies?”

Red:"I want my old mask back. When dealing with Rabbits and on assignments."

"Be the management they truly want. It will be a bloody district."

Tag:“You are about this?”

Red:"I'm not done."

Me:“You’re losing a lot of Autonomy.”

Red:"I will publicly declare myself as Keeper and create an Archive within the Alexandrian library."

Tag:“You’re doing what now?”

Red:"I will donate all but my trophies from my souvenirs and storage. At my discretion what is exempt. No matter what I found."

"Kids will stop being killed in my district. 12 and under are off limits in No Man's Land and my district."

"As well as individuals over the age of 80. They earned a peaceful death. They should get it, even if I can't."

Tag: "Lot of specifics here, Red. You sure about this?"

Red:"Whatever happens outside my district is free game until the unlikely event I get promoted again."

"I will not punish those that break my Code outside of my district."

"I will be culling the rapists, murderers, and pedophiles from my district beginning at 12:01am Saturday morning. Retroactive. The witching hour of February 14th will be the go time. This timeline, 3AM Feb 10th is."

"Bleeding Tree will get fat off the sacrifices I am about to give it. I am about to soak the ground red with blood enough that Rabbit Hole's grass will grow red for eternity."

Tag:"Well, as long as you get them in on time, I don't think the higher ups will be all too disappointed in your incredible work ethic. "

Red:"I get to kill Omega as many times as I want for funsies. Any and all means allowed. No permanent deaths."

Tag:"Omega? Fine. He can't die anyway."

Red: "Give Them some amusement."

Tag:"You're a real people pleaser, you know that?"

Red:"I get acknowledgement for my true kill count."

Tag:"That's going to take a while."

Red:"Updated daily. Publically posted."

"I received my old notebook and can count through my scrapbook."

"I know The number anyway."

"Once a month for 4 years."

"Once a year from 16-22."

"You do the math."

"54 known kills."

"From here on out, kill count updated to once weekly."

"Wooden Girl makes Dobyoi an enchanted Noh mask. Same design as before."

Tag:“Same sort of glass?”

Red:"Must inspire Fear and loyalty somehow."

"Looking Glass. Ability to see through the timelines without jumping."

Tag:“We’ll make it extra scary for you then.”

Red:"Reinstatement of my ability to heal and travel the path. Removal of health consequences for doing so. I need to find Justice. He has a prophecy I need to hear for myself, but he lives in the Path now."

Tag:“You know that one is dependent on the higher ups performance reviews. If they are happy, you’ll get that one on your own.

"Anything else on your to do list?”

Red: "What do the eldritch Old Ones want from me that I haven't already promised?"

"We must follow the Code. Here, now."

Tag:“If that’s what they already told you, I guess nothing.”

Red:"One last thing."

Tag:“What is it?”

Red:"I have a catch of my own this time."

"My legal persona, Shady, and the Board all get 33%"

"Ownership of everything involved."

Tag: “You want to split this land and all of its assets into 1/3rds?

Red: "This District will be formally recognized as a melting pot. No killing in Nola or 251 or the surrounding areas. I have family in both."

"Yes. Legally recognize it as a neutral zone. Until the day every timeline is eaten by the Quiet or humanity wins the Great Game. Not a moment before."

Tag: "That's asking for a whole section of non sacrifices. well, if you want it, you have it."

Red: "I will more than make up for it with Codebreakers."

Tag: "Don't make promises, you can't keep, Red."

Red: "There will be a culling. As of Mobile time, 12:01 AM Saturday."

"It's going to be the Purge, Underland style."

"Better warn your people to run. My Rabbits are already stationed outside every oathbreaker's house. You have 5 minutes to finalize this deal before they begin."

"And of course, rending metal to flesh, feeding the hallowed ground with the blood of the unclean."

Tag:"You're threatening me, Red?"

"That hurts my feelings."

Red:"No. Promising you an District level Apocalypse. Straight out of Their sickest desires."

Tag:"Fine, I accept the terms in full."

Red:"The streets will run red with blood in 4 minutes."

Tag:"3 more than I'll need. Men, let's move out. Get out of their line of fire."

"I'll be in touch, Red. Don't you disappoint me now."

Red: "Add in my Code. Just use negotiable terms."

Tag:"All terms adhere to the code."

Samantha came forward, soft spoken and resigned to what she was signing away:

"We can fix it later. Now which blade am I using to get the blood?"

Tag:"Polished steel, black handle pen knife."

"Make it deep."

"I'll be doing the same."

Sam:"Wait."

Tag: "What is it now?"

Lilith blinks forward:"Protection for Gallows. Should he want it. Priority level."

"3 minutes."

Lilith:"Fine."

"Twisting my arm here, Red. You know that?"

Red:"And Shady."

Tag:"And I 'm already late.. Shady?"

Red:"She's part owner, after all."

Tag:"Fine, suit yourself,"

"They get full protection."

-pen scratches as she signs the contract-

-pen scratches as he signs the contract and dates-

-it vanishes by magical fax-

Tag: "Now that is what you call blood binding and quick sending.:"

"So, I need to go before I get a ceremonial dagger to the face."

"Always a pleasure, Red."

Red:"2 minutes. Any last warnings for the Code Breakers?"

Me: "Try not to get my good side."

Comments

A day later, she called me back to iron out what she wanted in exchange for becoming the proper proxy that the higher ups had wanted since day one.

Just one sentence this time.

"We need to meet, Tag."

Guess I have to pack my bags.

-Transcription Start-

Me: "So, you're back on the payroll. Enjoying your time as a lacky of the hire ups again. But you know they're keeping tabs on you, right?"

Red:"I figured. I know how this goes. Constantly stalking me."

Me: "Left and right, so like I said. Keep your nose clean.But fuck all, find out what's going on. Even I don't know why they're watching you."

Red: "So basically always act as though I'm being recorded. If it wound up on the news, would she have to move Sanctuary or want to?"

Me: "Well, no. The Board has already staked too much into it to move it. They'll make that part disappear."

Red: "What do you mean?"

Me: "Oh they'd make it look like Sanctuary is a burned out patch of land with no strategic value.Mental trickery, bunch of bribes. Like it never existed."

Red: "Kind of like Hogwarts."

Me:"Yeah, kind of like hogwarts. Except there's no anti muggle spells. Just armed personnel with an axe to grind."

Red: ".....who will be guarding Rabbit Hole?"

And I need to hire mercenaries. To kill those narcs for you. May I use the slush fund?"

Me: "Your choice of our finest mercenaries, all expenses paid."

"Yes, you may use the slush fund."

Red: "Is this a permanent bonus or a temporary one?"

Me: "Kill those three middle management pukes, and then I'll tell you."

Red: "Fuck."

"Can I at least get a promotion ?"

"Because K8s make shit pay."

Me:"How about K6 pay with benefits?"

"And you'll owe me one."

Red:"And I will need permanent access to the slush fund. Especially to pay off Sanctuary's mortgage."

Me:"You're killing me Red. But fine. Deal."

Red:"Fine. One favor that follows the Code."

Me:"You're no fun, you know that?"

Red:"I will file a formal request each time. I won't ditch the paperwork if I get the promotion?"

Me:"And you'll say you're sorry to the Tax Adjuntant for flipping her off."

"Lady holds a grudge like nothing I've ever seen."

Red:"I'll finally be getting paid fairly. Thus, I can actually travel to do my job."

"I will ask each time, report each assignment. You can even publish the tame incident reports if you think it will help PR."

Me:"Make them as gory as you like, you know the higher ups love a good orgy of violence and suffering. Just keep up with your paperwork, and next bonus is sure to be properly handled."

Red: "May I ask if I may make special requests from R & D?"

Me:"Within reason."

Red: "Or bribing the necromancer to help him fix the broken magic on my healing ability?"

Me: "You can use the slush fund for that."

Red:"I also need a hush favor, valid for up to one year, in each timeline."

"So.. 20 hush favors for 18 deaths and two active timelines?"

Me:"Fine. Put that in the contract. I'll make it legal."

Red:"We need to put everything in clear writing. Dobyoi formally requests that Sanctuary be on protected status in every timeline."

Me:"You actually got Dobyoi in on this? Come on, Red. You know even I can't say no to a big (Redacted).?"

Red: "We need additional training classes, both for me as middle management and for the Rabbits."

Me:"Slush fund."

Red: "I need R&D to create a better version of my Sanctuary slips. Nonfading magic."

Me:"That can be arranged."

Red:"I need special detailed pocketwatches. I will send the specs to you later."

Me:"Sounds like you're starting some kind of cult. Or underground society."

Red: "We need a communication source that will work in every timeline."

Me:"R&D has a rotary phone for that."

Red:"This will take contacting the Alexandrian library."

"No. My Rabbits, my land, my rules."

"We have to keep them safe. It's already a stipulation of the top brass that I do this. To pull it off, I need tech and magic. You know how to make this happen. I know you do."

Me:"I do, but it's going to cost extra to get everything into place."

"But yeah, you're one of my best. I'll expedite the process."

'You'd better deliver, Red."

Red:"You're the one with his neck in a noose. You want this to be a rush order. Make it happen."

Me:"Fine. But whatever it is they're trying to get from you. Don't let it happen."

"Good hunting. For both our sakes."

Red: "I won't. I will swear in blood not to directly attack the other Fears. I can keep the Rabbits alive in No Man's Land and Underland. I decided we're going with literary quotes for my land since Dobyoi has agreed to help."

Me: "Fine. That's going to be in writing. No one can break it."

Red:"They can't attack either. Every time you call me Red, my base personality becomes stronger. But in contrast, so does Dobyoi. It's a trade off."

Me:"Well, you're lucky I enjoy your original nickname,"

Red:"We can write up my formal Code of Conduct, add a few concessions as a good faith move, and put it in the Charter for Sanctuary. Contract must be signed in freshly spilled, nonbespelled blood. If we have to use temporary fizzle magic to make this happen, we need to."

"Proxies and Runners and neutral parties get access to training classes. And They swear They will not cause the Rabbits permanent death. We must be able to retrieve them after their trial in Underland us over."

Me: "Right."

Me: "Just do me a favor. Stay alive this time, will you?"

"Hell of a lot of paperwork to bury you again."

Red: "I will swear not to attempt suicide again. Accidental deaths shall have no repercussions."

"You mean those Proxy bodies after Bleeding Tree got done devouring their soul as a power source?"

Me:"Good. Can't have the last few times put more people in that pretty little head of yours again."

"Well, yeah. You think we just kept leaving you in the ground to rot?"

"But the BT needs fresh meat."

Red: "I get protection for the Red Road."

"All it takes is one time of being buried while I was sleeping, and wake to have my pulse start from nothing to heart attack range staring down the inside of a casket lid, to crawling my way through the grave and pulling a Kill Bill on my knuckles to get out, for me to never want to be buried again."

"The Red Road will be repaved and fairy lights put up to illuminate the road. No more Silent Hill darkness."

Me:Not sure that's my department, and armed guards can be acquired."

Red: "Freya wishes herself to have access to her occult books and supplies. She wants to apply for shaman training formally with the Cherokee Nation."

Me:"Would you like nice hopping streetlamps to follow you through checkpoints there, Chihiro?"

"Access to the Cherokee Shaman Tribe? Doable"

Red:"I actually want fairy lights. And sign posts warning visitors of the risks of breaking the Code and leaving the Red Road."

Me: "Fine, fair lights and warning signs."

Red:"I want jasmine and Japanese cherry trees planted in the areas next to the Red Road to deter
Codebreakers. Liliana misses home."

Me:"Fine. Call Terry in landscaping. He loves decorative trees and shrubbery"

Red:"Cypress trees and mangroves for Amanda. Pictures of her children and proper Wiccan burial for them with trees planted as headstones. She wants her ashes moved to the New Orleans graveyard. Not Marie's graveyard. Don't you dare."

"Proxy protection in all timelines against the other magic factions. Even in the event of war."

"Freya wants permission to kill Dal Matia."

Me:'Yes, yes, yes, yes, Don't worry, we aren't that big of assholes, sure, that one is complicated, and absolutely not. In that order."

Red:"She committed a blood offense. I demand retribution."

"She broke the Treaty. You know the price for that."

Me:"You know I can't authorize that."

"You can maim, not kill. Take a finger off or something."

Red: "Dubyoi says off with her fucking head. We keep the head of hers and the narcs on pikes by Rabbit Hole. I want white roses planted around Sanctuary and Rabbit Hole."

"She tried to hex me out of my body. It almost worked. If I weren't dead already, it would have."

"This is nonnegotionable. Contact Higher Management. I'll wait for their answer."

Tag:"Ladies, we've talked about this, you want Dal Matia dead, you go to the Higher ups directly."

"I can send in the form."

"That's about it."

Red:"She broke Their rules. You know the penalty of killing one of my bodies. Of breaking the Rules. She broke every truce that mattered. I get to cut their heads off myself."

Tag:"I know, it's in the treaty.

"But trust me, all 18 of you don't want to do this."

Red:"No. Call BT. I want to formally call in my token for the hiding from IA for The rape and torture of a K8 by the K-3 agent, David."

Tag:"You're calling in that favor with the BT?"

Red:"You owe me, Tagalong."

Tag: ."..fucking no strings attached policy."

Fine, I'll get you your violent date with Dal Matia."

"Don't ever say I didn't do anything nice for you."

Red:"Yes. Nonnegotionable, being called in as of now."

Tag:"Fine, but you're personally feeding her body to the Tree."

Red:"I don't want the payoff money. The 5 years lump sum will go straight into investing into businesses we will control and own as our own. Even split of resources we get as profits, distributed to all Rabbits."

Me:"You want to take your personally earned salary and dump it into your rabbit cage?"

"Fine by me."

Red:"We formally request David himself to make amends, create a truce, and lend his fizzle magic to my personal resource pool. One week notice prior. Regular maintenance. Terms negotiable. I still need to show him what it's like when Catherine rapes HIM."

Me:"Doable. Might as well fuck up the day of one of the original 12 for some well deserved payback."

Red:"Of course we'll enjoy it. But the point remains. He owes sexual healing and he knows it. It's very little to ask of him, all things considered."

Me:"Whatever he does to any of you in his spare time is your business. I'll just get the paperwork done."Spare me the details."

Red:"I don't need revenge. I'm five hundred and twenty this July. I'm too old to care about old wounds. I just want to be acknowledged as more than a rape doll for Wooden Girl, or a torture pet for David."

Me:"I always forget that, Red. Fine. All requests and demands accepted, pending approval by Higher Management. Doth I please the queen, this insipid bumpkin for sooth?"

Red:"Dobyoi requests official recognition of the Red Road, Sanctuary, and No Man's Land. She gets formal goddaughter status with the Fears. So all of us do by technicality as hers."

"We need protection, I need protection from Them. All deals are held to the intent of the letter and upheld til the day after eternity ends."

"So no direct intervention, attacks and or psychological damage to the 18 personalities inhabiting the one living vessel."

Me:"Eternity is a long time."

"Better make it worth their while."

Red: "You people made me into this eldritch mindfuck. Time to claim ownership and make it formal."

Me:"Don't say I didn't warn you. But fine, I'll put the paperwork through."

Red:"Paid vacation. Travel expenses, food costs, per diem, mileage. I want the Blood Red credit card in my real name. No limit. Only to be used with written permission from higher ups."

Me:"... Slush funds at your disposal, Red."

Red:"In my real name. So it's legal in all timelines."

"Protection from Proxy assignments on all of my lovers and informants. No more watching a

Berserker kill my lovers. Too many of us lost our timeline's future husbands to the Quiet. They get the choice of which timeline to live in."

Me:"You know you're asking me to bend time and space on a head for you, right?"

"You want the moon and stars while I'm at it?"

Red: "In return, I will be the field agent they always dreamed of."

Me:"Hefty boast. But fine."

Red:"No more fuck ups. No more suicides. No more Running. No more setting house fires or averting prophecies that are neutral in nature."

Me:"As long as your deliver and give us what we want in return, you'll get everything you're asking for, Miss Renalda."

Red: "I will write incident reports. I want the cities of Nola and all of Mobile counties as my district and formal territory in Overland."

Me:"That's for the zoning board to decide, but the chairman owes me a favor.)

"Businesses, populations and subsidiaries as well?"

Red:"Complete with recognition as middle management and your equal in status if not rank or salary. I have access and leadership of the Proxy squads in those areas."

Me:"You know that's going to basically make you just like me, right?"

Red:"Yes. We are reclaiming Nola and the home of Mardi Gras."

"I will still be operating in collusion with you. Out of respect. You are still my ranked superior by experience if not status."

Me:“Aww. Well that’s nice.”

“But you know that if you or I screw up, we’re both going down for it. Right?”

Red:"I will finally cooperate and become a Proxy. I will be considered a District Manager."

Me:“Is that how far you’re willing to go?”

Red:"I will make weekly instead of monthly sacrifices to Bleeding Tree."

Me:“Where are you going to find the bodies?”

Red:"I want my old mask back. When dealing with Rabbits and on assignments."

"Be the management they truly want. It will be a bloody district."

Me:“You are about this?”

Red:"I'm not done."

Me:“You’re losing a lot of Autonomy.”

Red:"I will publicly declare myself as Keeper and create an Archive within the Alexandrian library."

Me:“You’re doing what now?”

Red:"I will donate all but my trophies from my souvenirs and storage. At my discretion what is exempt. No matter what I found."

"Kids will stop being killed in my district. 12 and under are off limits in No Man's Land and my district."

"As well as individuals over the age of 80. They earned a peaceful death. They should get it, even if I
can't."

Me: "Lot of specifics here, Red. You sure about this?"

Red:"Whatever happens outside my district is free game until the unlikely event I get promoted again."

"I will not punish those that break my Code outside of my district."

"I will be culling the rapists, murderers, and pedophiles from my district beginning at 12:01am Saturday morning. Retroactive. The witching hour of February 14th will be the go time."

"Bleeding Tree will get fat off the sacrifices I am about to give it. I am about to soak the ground red with blood enough that Rabbit Hole's grass will grow red for eternity."

Me:"Well, as long as you get them in on time, I don't think the higher ups will be all too disappointed in your incredible work ethic. "

Red:"I get to kill Omega as many times as I want for funsies. Any and all means allowed. No permanent deaths."

Me:"Omega? Fine. He can't die anyway."

Red: "Give Them some amusement."

Me:"You're a real people pleaser, you know that?"

Red""I get acknowledgement for my true kill count."

Me:"That's going to take a while."

Red:"Updated daily. Publically posted."

"I received my old notebook and can count through my scrapbook."

"I know The number anyway."

"Once a month for 4 years. Once a year from 16-22."

"You do the math."

"From here on out, kill count Updated to once weekly."

"Wooden Girl makes Dobyoi an enchanted Noh mask. Same design as before."

Me:“Same sort of glass?”

Red:"Must inspire Fear and loyalty somehow."

"Looking Glass. Ability to see through the timelines without jumping."

Me:“We’ll make it extra scary for you then.”

Red:"Reinstatement of my ability to heal and travel the path. Removal of health consequences for doing so. I need to find Justice. He has a prophecy I need to hear for myself, but he lives in the Path now."

Me:“You know that one is dependent on the higher ups performance reviews. If they are happy, you’ll get that one on your own.

"Anything else on your to do list?”

Red: "What do the eldritch Old Ones want from me that I haven't already promised?"

"We must follow the Code. Here, now."

Me:“If that’s what they already told you, I guess nothing.”

Red:"One last thing."

Me:“What is it?”

Red:"I have a catch of my own this time."

"My legal persona, Shady, and the Board all get 33%"

"Ownership of everything involved."

Me:“You want to split this land and all of its assets into 1/3rds?

Red: "This District will be formally recognized as a melting pot. No killing in Nola or 251 or the surrounding areas. I have family in both."

"Yes. Legally recognize it as a neutral zone. Until the day every timeline is eaten by the Quiet or humanity wins the Great Game. Not a moment before."

Me: "That's asking for a whole section of non sacrifices. well, if you want it, you have it."

Red: "I will more than make up for it with Codebreakers."

Me: "Don't make promises, you can't keep, Red."

Red: "There will be a culling. As of Mobile time, 12:01 AM Saturday."

"It's going to be the Purge, Underland style."

"Better warn your people to run. My Rabbits are already stationed outside every oathbreaker's house. You have 5 minutes to finalize this deal before they begin."

"And of course, rending metal to flesh, feeding the hallowed ground with the blood of the unclean."

Me:"You're threatening me, Red?"

"That hurts my feelings."

Red:"No. Promising you an District level Apocalypse. Straight out of Their sickest desires."

Me:"Fine, I accept the terms in full."

Red:"The streets will run red with blood in 4 minutes."

Me:"3 more than I'll need. Men, let's move out. Get out of their line of fire."

"I'll be in touch, Red. Don't you disappoint me now."

Red: "Add in my Code. Just use negotiable terms."

Me:"All terms adhere to the code."

Red:"We can fix it later. Now which blade am I using to get the blood?"

Me:"Polished steel, black handle pen knife."

"Make it deep."

"I'll be doing the same."

Red:"Wait."

Me: "What is it now?"

Red:"Protection for Gallows. Should he want it. Priority level."

"3 minutes."

Me:"Fine."

"Twisting my arm here, Red. You know that?"

Red:"And Shady."

Me:"And I 'm already late.. Shady?"

Red:"She's part owner, after all."

Me:"Fine, suit yourself,"

"They get full protection."

-pen scratches as she signs the contract-

-pen scratches as he signs the contract and dates-

-it vanishes by magical fax-

Me: "Now that is what you call blood binding and quick sending.:"

"So, I need to go before I get a ceremonial dagger to the face."

"Always a pleasure, Red."

Red:"2 minutes. Any last warnings for the Code Breakers?"

Me: "Try not to get my good side."

-Transcription End-

Friday, February 9, 2018

Tequila makes her..

...clothes fall off.

Sitting cross legged, naked, in an informant's house.

Posting some updates while he showers.

The voodoo bitch arrived at my home, finally. She literally looks like she is cosplaying Tia Dalma. And just as fucked up and weird.

Dreaded out hair, coffee colored skin, gorgeous eyes, and the attitude of a rattle snake. We've already come to blows once. Pretty sure one of her he's a landed its mark, as I'm bleeding.

I don't frankly care. Too pissed drunk and angry right now to care.

My housekeeper began fucking with me every five minutes, as soon as voodoo bitch arrived. 'Why's it taking so long?' 'S by is she still here?' 'M one appreciates me.' 'You're a selfish bitch by bringing her here.'

Nevermind I keep us all alive. Nevermind my money keeps this place afloat. Nevermind I have nearly died protecting her from her drug habit and atrocious spending habits.

I'm worthless. Despite keeping us alive. Despite pouring my whole soul into this place. Despite everything I do

Informant playing with my pussy as I write this. This will be interesting.

Quote from him: "Who wants to be normal? I don't care what you do, as long as I get to touch you."

The years are kinda blending together atn.. Sirry

In the kindest way, fuck anyone not allied with my Rabbits

Din't care who you serce

Nor who you used to vd...

Just 'follow yoit nosue, silly rabbit. .'

Drklpped my phone. Bit too drybk

Hon a go sleep

Fycj toyrMMMM?MMMTE GUY7

Ca)l or email me if you beed to

Yeah. Call me or email when-

Dia can't come to the phone right now, I think she had a bit too much fun with me and passed out. Before she did, she very charmingly asked me if I could post this no matter what condition the editing was in before I passed out myself.

Then she bent over at the waist and puked all over my shoes, the splash damage getting all over my work clothes.

Needless to say, I wasn't pleased.

Her, slurring but sad: "Oh god, I can't believe I just pulled a '10 Things I Hate About You' on you. I'm so sorry."

" I haven't puked while drinking since... Shit. Can't remember. In at least three years."

Me, already laughing my ass off and walking away to grab her a water bottle and a towel: "It's okay. Just means I and everyone else has something to jank you about for the next forever."

She's currently sleeping it off in my guest bedroom. Let's have some fun with this, while I still have her phone.

What are the most embarrassing stories you can remember about dealing with Dia? Most fucked up story gets a reward from me, a sponsored stay for a week at Sanctuary. Bonus points if it involves sex.

Y'all have 12 hours.. starting now.

-Moses

Wednesday, February 7, 2018

Dead Men Need to Learn to Hush

I was planning on waiting a few days for my next post. I already have about four drafts saved, to update you guys on that voodoo female's arrival and other visitors tromping around the grounds of Sanctuary, but I wanted to hold off. Someone I care about very much got nasty with me for posting too often, told me that I was posting "to get attention..." that one stung a bit. But.. certain events have disallowed my waiting.

For those that aren't aware, in the supernatural community, certain people are bestowed Titles to indicate what they do in the world. Proxies are the meat puppets of the Fears, Runners try to avoid death, Survivors are those that remain, Gatherers manipulate and gather information to feed to the Fears, so on and so forth.

I've already mentioned that I started Running as a child, the day I left my childhood home because my family believed the word of my rapist over mine. I started seeing the Wretched Man's shadows that day, though didn't understand what they were. I was too deeply in shock as a kid to mind that the shadows moved.

I became a Gatherer when I was in my late teens, which is basically the Fears' version of a mole. I went through extensive training on psychology, verbal and written communication skills, sociological problems in society, even typing and computer classes to ensure that I would know what I was doing online.

I met some exceedingly fucked up people, made contacts, and began to masquerade as the Runner I once was. It was easy, to be honest with you guys. All I had to do was channel the pain and desperation I felt every time we ran out of food, got kicked out of yet another home, or had to panhandle on the street in order to make enough money to afford a hot shower at one of the myriad rest stops in my home town.

I began writing in order to entice Runners to trust me. Things were going swimmingly when I began my Gatherer blog, Be Wary of These, at least at first. I networked with the best of them, gained their trust, and fed what information I could to my bosses. Said bosses were very pleased.

I got attached. How could I not? Men and women from all over the world, suffering the same trials I went through as a child and a teenager. People trying to find hope in the darkest of nights, trying to create a community of like minded people in order to survive. I made friends, some of them closer than others. I began to care what happened to these people once I fed information to my superiors.

I didn't want these people to die. I didn't want Shady, Lis, Ell, Konaa, and countless others to suffer for what I chose to do in order to ensure my own survival. For the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged, like I had found my tribe. I started to deliberately withhold information from the Fears, or delay my delivery report in order to give the Runners a head start. I started to dispense advice on who to avoid in our world, who to befriend, and how to stay alive. With every post, Dia became more invested in the community.

This displeased my bosses... to the tune of waterboarding, bamboo shoots shoved into my nail beds, hunting knives taken to my skin. I underwent an excessive amount of brainwashing in Their attempt to rehabilitate me. Their efforts failed spectacularly, though they couldn't understand why. I could. I went through enough abuse, torture, neglect, and overall trauma as a child and teen that the things they did registered as physically painful but not really that terrible. Once you've been padlocked into chains forcing you to sit in a rickety old chair in the dark confines of a closet at two and three years old, locked in for hours on end to "prevent your evil from escaping," such things as a spot of torture or mental manipulations stop having the same effects.

After I recovered from the physical effects of what the Bureaucracy attempted, I was given a choice:

Either I was to suffer what was essentially a department change, become a field Proxy expected of running missions with specially selected teams of other murders, or take an extended leave.At the time, I wasn't capable of murderer, still believed in the inherent goodness of humanity, still believed that innocents should be protected. Oddly enough, my bosses seemed to understand and gave me a clunky broken pocket-watch with a memory wiping spell bound to it. The moment I opened it, I was told I would be able to start over.

I was able to live the life of a Runner again... what I didn't anticipate was that They never let you go.

The pocket-watch was designed to have a time limit, triggered at the exact moment I felt the most pain. If I learned my lesson from what the Bureaucracy, I would have been able to continue living as a Runner for the rest of my days. This performed as basically the opposite of Angelus's curse; you all must forgive me for my minor sentimentality. My being a fan of various geekdoms gives me an escape when I need it most, and as such, I'm a veritable walking encyclopedia of useless knowledge from many media series. I quote constantly.

As you saw with 'Storytime,' I came very close to achieving my ends. I moved, settled down, got a job, and did what any semi-normal person would do in their daily lives. You must understand, up until that point in my life, I had never really settled in one place. I was always moving even as a kid, drifting across social groups as I grew old, bitter and introverted from the things I had endured growing up. Up until the Fears' training, I didn't really know how to connect properly with other people. I had never actually been.. "normal."

As for how I feel now, I'll quote the infamous turncoat Harley Quinn: "Normal's just a setting on the dryer."

But I digress... the pocket-watch was given to me as a long running trap, meant to teach me to listen to what my superiors attempted to teach me. Even in their cruelty, they had been attempting to impart survival lessons upon me so that I too could survive, and I was too hardheaded to listen. This 'leave' was their punishment.

Despite everything I endured, I still miss those old days in Sacramento. Life was simpler then.

I lost yet another lover to the savagery of our community, and shattered emotionally. Ladybug's death caused me a moment of pain great enough to trigger the retraction of the memory spell, with dire consequences. I was a Gatherer once more, this time vicious, insane from grief, and capable of great destruction and malice. Thus the burning down of my lover's home with his body still inside. Thus my waiting for the firefighters to arrive on the scene, waiting in the side alley for one to stray from the others, and knocking him out to steal his uniform. Thus my playing a horrible prank on my old friend Shady, disguising my voice and calling her to inform her of Dia's demise. Thus my waiting at the scene of the fire in the firefighter gear, face disguised by the gas mask, only to watch as she looked around for Dia's body and found nothing.

Watched her pain and suffering, and somewhere deep inside took satisfaction in it. I knew I couldn't come back to the fold, knew I was unwelcome in the safehouses of the Runners. I was a woman without a country, without a home, desperately heartbroken and craving some kind of contact with the people that I loved, even if I had to hide my face at the time to achieve that end. I wanted to know that, somewhere in the world, someone cared enough if I died to mourn me. Because, essentially, my old life was over in that moment.

A Fear approached me, gave me the opportunity to make sure such things were prevented.

No one had to die ever again. I won't get into it now, but what I can say is that the deal came with a catch.

I was allowed to create Sanctuary, given the 'Do No Harm' spell attached to an item I wore for sentimental value, and set loose upon the world to do what harm or benefit I saw fit. I was simultaneously a Proxy and a Runner, from that moment on. I became the True Neutral party you all see before you today.

Shortly after that dreadful deal (no take-backsies! bastard Fears), I got word that a key blogger's body had been discovered in a cabin, basically in the middle of fucking nowhere. .

I packed my shit, let my Rabbits know I was taking a vacation and would be back soon, and began driving.

After driving a decent amount of time, and a multitude of pee breaks, I arrived at my destination.
The cabin itself was tiny, tucked behind a series of mangroves and cypress trees at the very end of a truly awful pothole ridden dirt road. When I got out of the truck, I was overcome with a sense of apprehension.

Shit was about to change, for better or worse.

Shrugging off what I chalked up to superstitiousness, I walked inside.

Very little awaited me inside. A rusted twin bed with naught but a bare top mattress, a battered old dresser, a scarred end table, a small desk, and various personal odds and ends. Essentially, a prison cell.

No body, which confused me greatly. The scavengers had already descended on the scene, it seemed.

On the desk, only three items were present: a bloodstained old laptop, a vial, and a map of some kind.

I, of course, began rummaging through the dresser and various bits strewn across the room. Nothing of interest beyond a Runner's notebook, which I tucked into my bug out bag to read in a minute.

Not trusting Runners as far as I could throw them at the time, I ran a neodymium magnet over the surface of the laptop, flipping it over and repeating the process on the underside, just to be sure everything would be erased. Satisfied, I threw the magnet back in my bag and set the bag on the bare mattress, turning back to the desk as I did so. This blogger, Jeff, was renowned for his paranoia and beliefs in the existence of a cure to Proxyism. I wasn't about to let whatever writings he had saved on his laptop see the light of day.

I picked up the vial, a sluggish tar like liquid sloshing against the sides as I did so. I held it up to the light to examine it, but no further clues revealed themselves to me, so I carefully pocketed it, taking care not to upend the damn thing in my jeans. I wasn't sure such a thing would affect my body chemistry, but with what I knew of Jeff the Keeper from his previous writings, I had no intention of finding out what would happen.

Last item on the list: a messily scrawled-upon map of Disney World, with nearly incomprehensible scribbles nearly blacking out the contents of it. All I could translate was 'Find them. Look here.' A giant red circle encompassing what I guessed to be Cinderella's castle, with a comically drawn arrow pointing into it.

I had heard rumors of a neutral zone existing within the confines of Disney World, where Proxies and Runners coexisted in order for both to influence the children that frequented the amusement park, but I had always dismissed them for delusions or flights of fancy made up by bored proxies round the water cooler.

Apparently, I was wrong.

I memorized the contents of the map, rolled it up, and stuck it in my back pocket; absentmindedly plotting travel details as I mused on the absurdity of my situation. A former proxy, looking for a cure? Laughable.

Finally, I returned to the bed, sitting on the mattress heavily. I pulled the notebook from my bag, wiped the dirt and crime from its cover, and began to read. What I found, I managed to obscure for 5 years.

My carelessness with the crime scene have come back to haunt me, in the form of an auto-post from none other than Jeff himself, designed to post upon the event of his death at a random point in the future.

-sigh-

Jeff the Keeper, the smug bastard, managed to fuck with me from beyond the grave.

I bet you wherever his soul resides, he is laughing at me, and waiting to see what comes next.

Jeff had named me his successor to the title of Keeper, only the 3rd in the line.

For newcomers, a Keeper is essentially a Ravenclaw pack rat version of a Gatherer. They obsessively collect the writings, records, personal keepsakes, and magical items that belong to those that have passed; in a fruitless attempt to preserve our History, in the off chance that humanity does survive the Great Game.

According to the instructions Jeff left me, "You gather information, you run, and whatever you do. Don't get involved unless you have to. Rinse, wash, and repeat. To do otherwise will get you killed."

You must understand, at the time I was still unaware of my inability to pass to the Other Side. I was responsible for a brand new group of Rabbits, coming and going as they are want to do, and I had no intention of following the intent of Jeff's instructions. All I ever did was get involved.

So I dismissed the contents of the notebook, content to be myself without the added pressure or responsibilities that a Title in our world tends to entail. I was always aware that what I was doing was already essentially the functions of a Keeper, but I was bound and determined to do it my way.

You see, every Keeper and intended Keeper up until that point had been Runners.

I was not only the first former Proxy to hold the title, but the first neutral party to do so.

I have a thing about rules that are seemingly written in stone. I rebel. I will deliberately do the opposite.

I read through the notebook, took notes, and... committed a crime, as far as the community is concerned..

I burned Jeff's notebook.

Sat and watched as it burned, just to be sure no one else ever saw the contents, all the way down to ash, and spread the ash at the base of the trees surrounding his cabin, in a sort of post-mortem ritual.

Don't ask about my random witchy shit, and I won't tell.

I made a rather terrible mistake after that, I admit. I was green, wet behind the ears, new to my job. I ventured on to Disney World without asking for help, or telling anyone where I was going. What followed has got to be the most embarrassing story of my entire life, no matter what part. Again, I won't get into it.

But Jeff, sweetheart? Thanks for the kind words. But fuck you.

.I should have been able to avoid the spotlight until the day I eventually found my way to the grave.

I hope you're resting in peace, wherever you are. I've been doing my best to live up to your expectations.

Tuesday, February 6, 2018

Storytime

This sixth day, of the month February, of the year 2018..

A friend visiting my home happened to sit down at the desktop in the living room (of course with his obnoxious ass preppy bitch hand-ground coffee) and begin reading through my blog posts. Intrigued by what he read, he began to ask me questions, like:

"At what point did you stop Running?"

"What made you lose yourself enough to start making these Faustian deals to begin with?"

"You keep talking about these people you loved, even the dead ones, but you never tell us about them. Why? You Gather stories on all the rest of us, and tell us what's going on now, but you never bother to tell us what happened to you Before. What brought you from that scared teenager running from the Fears, to Gathering, to who you are now. We're missing so much of the story!"

I go, "Why would you want to hear all that ugly shit? All it will do is make people want to cry."

My friend, Navi, aptly named for his love of video games and his endearing (annoying) habit of constantly asking questions, shook his head. "It doesn't matter. All of this shit is ugly to begin with. We've all had ugly lives. But, you want people to trust you. You want people to know who you really are, not just what you used to do. In order to do that, you're going to have to start opening up."

I scoffed. "What, so I should start telling these people bedtime stories? Because that is what it would sound like. My life is like a really fucked up version of The Brothers Grimm fairy tales. It'd all be true, but no one would believe the things I had to say. Who's to say they wouldn't just distrust me more?"

Navi stared intently at me over the rim of his dark glasses, waves of blonde and gold and copper hair waving downwards in a half-assed curl, obscuring one eye, making it easier to withstand his gaze.

"I told you, it doesn't matter. Even if they don't believe you, you'll know you told the truth. You'll know you did right by them. That's what really matters. The other shit is just details."

He took a deep breath, let it go, and pulled out his phone. I looked at him strangely, my head cocked like that of a curious feline, wondering what the hell his phone had to do with anything.

He placed it square in the middle of the coffee table, opened the really shitty recording app we all have on our burner phones, and glanced back up at me. "You know you gotta get it over with."

I sat down across from him in one of our many armchairs, putting my weight on my arms, my elbows jabbing into my thighs, and bent forward and to lean my chin on my clasped hands, apprehensive.

"What do I get out of it?"

He gave me an incredibly fucked up look, kind of like a cross between a bitch, please and pity. "You get to finally deal with your shit. You've started telling the truth this time around. It's time to keep that ball rolling, get whatever shit off your chest that you need to. No matter how old."

"Besides. You record this, I'll share my weed with you anytime I visit."

My eyes opened up wide. "But you get that really good shit from Colorado! The expensive shit."

He nodded slowly, taking his time. "Yeah, I know. You know I can afford it with the income from my coffee shop. Hell, I could start setting you up with a regular supply.. if it means you'll talk."

Without a word, I reached forward and turned the phone around so the tiny mic was facing me, and pushed record. This is what I chose to say. Reluctantly. Hesitantly. But truthfully.

-begin transcription-

So once upon a time, a proxy needed to stay under the radar for a while, but he had exhausted all of his typical options for forgiveness or safe housing. He knew of one option left to him, but he had burnt his bridges in typical proxy fashion: a lady named Dia would've helped him, before he went and fucked it up being himself, so she had banned him from her home, and blocked his calls.

He transformed himself, with but a few movements. He shed his trademarked proxy gear, removed his face paint, and left his hair down instead of pinning it back. She had never seen him as a regular person before, never seen him smile outside of malice or lust. He looked.. almost normal.

Then, he manufactured bumping into her on the street near her new home.

Introduced himself as Nicholas. Basically, imitated who he would have been if his life would have been different. If he had never met the Wretched Man... knowing he could capitalize on her kindness. She was still a very silly, sympathetic girl that hadn't learned to distrust the world.

Not yet.

She was entranced.
She fell head over heels for him.
And he played along. Of course he did.
It was an easy enough deception.
He had studied enough human interaction (and soap operas) to pull it off.
So for one year of her life.. she lived the way she had always dreamed of.
Like she had finally escaped the Fears.
She was able to move on.

Until one day he disappeared, one year to the date from when they met. No note, no warning. His cell was disconnected. He entirely vanished from her life, like he was never there.

And so she began to wonder, had she imagined him? Was it all one long hallucination? No one knew.

Time passed.
She mourned his absence. Eventually, she met someone new, a sweet young religious boy that we'll call 'Ladybug' for his absurd choice in headwear, began to date, and she fell in love once more.
Until the day she showed up at his door for their weekly date, to find he wasn't answering the door.
Concerned, she used his spare key to check on him...

Only to find his mutilated body, splayed out on his living room floor. Discarded like a broken toy.

Distraught, she fell to the floor, sobbing and raging against the cruelty of the horror that was her life.

She desperately shook him, trying to wake him, in shock and denial over what so clearly had happened. In her efforts, her elbow brushed against an object she had previously missed:

A hand tool. A farmer's sickle, sticky with blood, the metal blade cold to the touch.

As she picked it up, her mind struggled to comprehend what her subconscious had been desperately trying to tell her since the day she first met the man on the street:

There was a reason he smelled familiar. That when he held her, she got a sense of deja vu. That when he sang for her, she would swear she had met him in a past life:
She had. The man she fell in love with, Nicholas, her sweet, funny, and viciously intelligent Nick..
had really been GallowsTree the entire time. Her Nick had never really existed.

She jumped up as quickly as a scalded cat would and twice as angry, dropping the sickle, it falling with a soft thud to land on her dead lover's chest. Mind whirling.

Her thoughts and memories hit her all at once with the impact of a freight train.
Their kissing.
Their holding hands.
The first time they fell asleep next to each other.
The first time they made love.

On and on, every significant moment in the time they spent together, until it all screeched to a halt on one memory:

the first time he told her he loved her, hand cupping her face as he gazed into her eyes.
His promising her the stars, the life he wanted to have with her at his side.
That he never wanted to be without her again.
Coal black strands of hair falling into his eyes as he smiled down at her.

All lies. All fiction. And boy, did she fall for it all.

She flew into a hysterical rage, smashing pictures, throwing vases, hand sweeping across the kitchen island's surface to scatter as many objects to the floor as she could.

Glass crunched underfoot as a wild urge came across her... and she smiled. She ventured out back, seeking the spare gas canister her lover had kept out back in the shed next to his lawnmower.

She whistled as she walked, some senseless tune her father had crooned to her as a child. It became a waltz for her with an invisible partner, dancing across the room, splashing kerosene as she went.
When the can was empty, she dropped it where she stood, careless as to where it landed.

She walked over to her lover's body, knelt down, and held him one last time.

The embrace lasted only but a moment.

As she went to stand, she paused to brush his lips with hers one last time. She wiped her hands on her jeans, absentmindedly leaving blood streaks as she did. She no longer cared.

She knew she would have to burn her clothing as soon as she got home.

Dia casually strolled her way towards the back door, palming her Zippo and flipping it open as she went, setting fire to every piece of cloth and painting as she did.

She stopped just short of the back door, pocketing her Zippo and putting her phone to her ear as she grasped the door handle to walk out, dialing 911.

"Hello, operator?! My boyfriend won't wake up, no matter what I do, and I can see smoke coming from under the door. The crack is all lit up orange!"

"Yes ma'am, our address is 13 Broadview Drive, Sacramento, California. Please hurry, the door handle burned me, I can't get out, please help us, I'm scared.."

-click-

She smiled to herself once more, quietly letting herself out of her lover's home for the last time to wait in the side alley for the firemen to arrive.

-end transcription-

Monday, February 5, 2018

Late Night Musings

Life is funny.

Like.. in the kind of way getting your nails done and getting into a fistfight before they dry, is funny.

You can't help but to look down at the complete mess you've made, and just.. laugh.

We start out in situations with the best of intentions, with tiny goals, just trying to get by. You keep your head down, try to find ways to smile, and try to keep your personal demons to a dull roar.

Then one day you look up.. and the stars sparkle for you again. The moon will be shining brightly. Orion's belt will be positioned just above your head, and the North Star damn near looks like a beacon in the night. The wind will be blowing on your skin, teasing your hair all around your face, and slowly the sounds of crickets become audible. Fireflies dance around you to an unknown muse.

Your tiny little plans at survival have blossomed into full blown preparations. Maybe that job you wanted so badly called you back. Maybe a kid on the street smiled at you and told you they wanted to have hair like yours when they grew up. Maybe your favorite t.v. show updated while your head was down. Maybe, maybe, maybe.. there's a thousand variations. But they bring hope to our world again.

I thought I was alone in this world. I mean, sure, I've made friends in the last five years. I've had to, it's kinda become my job, travelling the world for random mystical shit, encountering new visitors. But.. they all felt hollow. Like I had an ice wall put up between me and them. Like.. I could never really be myself, I was always trying to wear the newest and prettiest mask to make them like me. I couldn't be kind anymore, so I fell out of the habit except for kids and old people. I retreated down to the lowest degree you can with a pulse, and tried with every breath to end it all.

I obviously failed. Repeatedly. I wanted nothing more than to just shut my eyes and sleep. I would call it the forever sleep. The longest nap in history. “To die, to sleep – to sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there’s the rub, for in this sleep of death what dreams may come…”

Hamlet had it right. Sometimes, I would dream of the better days. The ones where a lover would be cuddled up to me tightly, an arm around me, the sunlight slipping through the blinds to illuminate their face to create the most beautiful sight you had ever seen in your life. The moments where I could watch such people sleep, and thank whatever Greater Good exists for that moment in time. I knew, in my dreams and as they happened in my life, that these moments were all too fleeting, that they would be snatched from me. I wouldn't care. They were worth every moment of pain.

Sometimes, I dreamt of my family, of my father watching over me. Echoes of his half-forgotten voice telling me I should be doing better. That I should have kept going with college. That I should never have made the Faustian deals I have, that I have damned myself. In these dreams, I argue and rage against him, my greatest internal conscience, telling him I had no choice, this life was chosen for me, that I did my best to better myself, but life interfered. As I do, his face softens and he begins to smile. "There's my girl. I knew she was still in there somewhere. You're gonna make it through this. You have to. You have too many people looking to you to protect them to quit now."

I would tell him versions of, "I don't think I'm strong enough. It's not like I can be good or evil anymore. I gave up that luxury years ago. All I can do is try to reduce the death toll, give people a place to retreat to when they begin to feel as alone or hunted as I used to. Dad, I don't know what to do anymore. I know when I wake up I'm going to go back to that haunted land, and I won't be able to see your face anymore. Why can't I just stay here with you?"

The laugh lines around his mouth would shift to reveal his hidden dimples, the same ones he passed to me, and the crows feet around his eyes would crinkle as he looked at me kindly. "You've always been strong, baby, you just forgot for a while. It's okay. We all need a break sometimes, you're just taking a bit longer than other people do. It's okay. You had a lot more on your plate than most, and you burned out trying to do too much. Everyone is allowed to mistakes. All that matters is that you come back from this. And one day, you will. I've already seen it."

"You've saved more people than you've ever given yourself credit for. Yes, you had to do some messed up things to save those lives. Sacrifice a few so-called bad guys, a few innocents, get some blood on those hands of yours. That's when you know it's real. When you have to sacrifice to get the results that you want. When you question yourself, when you sit up at night wondering if you'll ever make it to the right Other Side, that's when you know you're doing right. That you haven't lost yourself."

"The selfish don't question themselves. Evil doesn't have trouble sleeping at night, or even during the day. The innocent don't know what it means to choose to do wrong in order to help others, and that's okay. They're not meant to. Let them stay innocent, for as long as you can. They deserve that."

"You're going to wake up from this. It's going to take a while. If you try to come back now, you won't survive, and all the people looking to you for support will be lost. Don't try to force it. Heal. Heal every injury you have, from that attack you just suffered, to your broken heart, to your mind. Don't try to pick up the broken shards of your mind and hand them to the people you love. Wait."

"You have too many things left to do to quit now. I know you want to, and I know how you could, but I can't tell you. I won't. The war is coming, sweetheart, and you have to be ready when it does."

I would step up to him, wrap my arms around his frame, and bury my head in his chest. Even there, in my dreams, he would smell of rolling tobacco, cheap whiskey, and motor oil. Ever the fuck up, my father, but he loved with everything he had. I would feel at peace in those moments. I felt loved.

Then his eyes would go wide like the panicked gaze of a witch on the stake, glancing down at the flames licking at their feet, and he would shove me away as hard as he could. "Baby, you need to wake up now. They're coming. They know I made it through, and they're angry."

Invisible talons would begin to rake at his skin, scratching and clawing and tearing, cleaving his skin from him, ripping his ribs out of his chest, as still more would hit him like the blows from a sledgehammer, breaking every piece of him until he would collapse, sobbing, looking up at me.

"I have to go now, baby, or they'll catch me. Don't forget I love you. Please, don't give up."

And with that, I would be launched into the most horrific nightmares I have ever experienced. My grandmother dying of pneumonia in front of my eyes, silently mouthing 'I love you' as they pulled her plug. My running out the hospital in a haze of tears, unable to even say goodbye. Me transported back to my childhood days, my rapist smiling down at me and asking me if I wanted to play. Having to pretend I was sleeping as his weight eased down on the bed next to me, pulled back the covers, and began to touch me in a way a child should never be touched. My father finding out what happened after I got sent home from school one day with a letter from both the guidance counselor and DHR, telling him what I reported by accident one day at school. Him waiting in his beat-up old car in the driveway as I got off the bus, not even letting me go in the house one more time. You see, he had already packed all of the things he could fit in the car, and made arrangements for us to stay in halfway houses until he could save enough for a first and last deposit on a new home. My getting in the car, putting the seatbelt on, and his turning to me as he started the car, telling me he had to pawn every gun he owned so that he didn't kill his bastard brother. That was the day I first started running.

My aunt looking me in the face, and telling me I was a teenage whore that deserved everything that had ever happened to me, that I would wind up a pregnant single mom dropout, that I would never amount to anything. Learning she was diagnosed with skin cancer, and being unable to care. Sitting in a pew at her funeral, my family all in tears around me, having to bow my head so my hair could hide the fact that I could not summon a single tear for the woman that made me feel like a whore for being a rape victim. I never did cry for that woman, or forgive her. Even when she begged to apologize.

Nearly biting a kid's dick off beneath the train tracks down the road because he tried to force me to blow him.

Trying to go to church, making friends, then getting banished for being too argumentative. No longer having that escape to keep me off the streets. Being told I "dressed like a Satan worshipper anyway." Sneaking into youth group meetings so I'd stop feeling so damn alone.

Having the first true love of my life choose someone else over me. My next lover abusing me for 4 years, beating me and painting himself as my savior. My father dying, turning to him and the abuse in order to feel something.. anything.

Turning to the BDSM world.. and finding it. Only to discover no one you ever met could match your libido. Losing the only man you would have married because.. you couldn't stand the sight of him embracing other women. It tore you up inside.

Watching your great love fuck another girl while you sat, crying. Internally screaming, begging to be enough, just for once.

All of these, and so many more, flashing before my eyes in a nonstop montage, all blurring together, until I would wake screaming. Crying. Reaching for a razor to make it stop, just for a little while.

Those dreams of my loved ones, the good dreams, kept me going even when They punished me for them. I would sleep almost constantly, trying to chase down my dead lovers in the only place they still existed: my mind.

I don't tell you these things to depress you. I tell you so you know I am human, I am vulnerable.. I feel pain. I'm not perfect. But.. If a fuck up like me could come back from the abyss, there is hope for y'all. I swear it. Better days are coming.

So keep watching for Orion's Belt, the North Star. Know that I am here for anyone who needs me, supernaturally influenced or not, no matter the faction, no matter what grudges we might have once held. That's all gone now.

The Great Game is approaching, and it is time to begin preparing. All of you.

I, for one, will greet Them with a smile on my face.

Sunday, February 4, 2018

Priest

I glanced down at the pocket of my jeans, upon feeling the vibrations of an incoming phone call. An upbeat, dubstep-esque ringtone was playing, immediately letting me know who was calling.

I retrieved my phone as quickly as I could and answered the call,

"Hey babe, what's up?"

It was my lovely tech genius, Priest.

A bit of an.. odd person, Priest is, but easily pleased and as intelligent as any three people put together.

Unfortunately, this typically means putting up with his alcoholism, perversion, and overall laziness.

His normally laid back, smooth baritone came out as a nerve-wracking squeak as it broadcast across my phone's tiny speakers. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Pokemon just passed their 1000th episode.... AND IT'S STILL GOING!!!!!!!!! ...Also, I'm hungry."

Me: "Of course they did. What region are they in right now?"

Priest: "Alola! It's like Hawaii, but with Pokemon! Also, do we have any Hot Pockets?"

I scoffed and stared down at my feet.

Me: "Top left corner of the freezer. Hidden behind the stack of ice trays."

"I'm working on getting our food situation fixed soon. I have a mage that's interested in helping us, it's just gonna cost out the ass. We're gonna have to figure out a way to fund bribing her."

Priest: "Did you ask her if she wants us to do anything for her?"

Me: "I sure did, but I doubt you'll be interested. Not unless you feel like replacing her computer rig and teaching her how to mask her presence online. That bouncing signals out of Russia and Australia type shit."

"She says she misses Facebook. And some kind of casino type slot game."

The sounds of liquid sloshing and Priest swallowing what is probably alcohol is heard, followed by his spitting it right back out. "Where the hell did you find this person, the ass end of BFE?"

"Wait, hold on. What kind of help are we needing? And does she do maid things in maid outfits?"

Me: "Um.. If you'd believe it, some backwoods swamp in Florida. Once we hammer out the details, she'll be visiting us on our dime and doing some witchy shit. She'll probably hex you if you ask her about the maid thing."

"If this goes well, she can cast a spell on our food supply. Something called 'the Pantry of Phantoms.' It's supposed to replicate any food item placed within its boundaries, without our having to replace them ourselves."

Priest: "Oooooooooooooooooh!!!!!!! UNLIMITED CHEESE!!!!!!!"

Me: "Yes, yes. We can literally put our favorite foods in there and not have to replace them. The only problem is, the spell has diminishing returns. Eventually, the food will begin to taste stale, then freezerburnt, and begin to decay. We'll eventually have to replace the foodstuffs when that happens, but that's a headache for another time."

Priest: "Hmmm... What about liquids?"

Me: "Liquids work fine, though I think they turn weird colors if they get duplicated. You might get milk that turns blue out of it, but it'll taste good."

Priest: "MUHAHAHAHHAHHAHA, UNLIMITED ALCOHOL!!!!!!!!!"

Me: "Point is, we desperately need this Wiccan bitch to cast this spell. Do you think you can help her out by teaching her how to do that stuff, maybe help her get some free internet out of the deal? The sooner the better."

Priest: "If she does the cleaning, why not let her stay here?"

Me: "She has a family to get back to, hon, or you know I would invite her. We desperately need a mage on staff, but it won't be this chick. She's a bit weird, even for us. Now, can you do it? And when?"

Priest: "Ok OK."

Rummaging sounds are heard, the slide of a drawer opening, as well as the crash of random objects as he knocks things to the ground to get to what he was looking for. "Okay, I got what she needs. She'll need to come over to pick it up herself, though."

Me: "She has to travel here to cast the spell, anyway. You can give it to her then. After, we can make a list of the things we want to eat or drink and the tenants all chip in a bit to cover it, and I'll send one of the proxies to the store to get our groceries. We'll be eating well after that's done."

"Now, to serious business. How far have you gotten on that issue I called you about the other day?"

Priest chugs some more liquor, then belches. "What was it again? Sorry, I got too drunk and forgot."

Me: "Goddamn it, Priest, if you didn't work better drunk I would beat your ass. Ugh."

Priest: "HAHAHA, but that's where the fun is!"

Me: "The Dark Web security thing. Since we have people tracking our movements online now."

Priest: "Oh yeah... that's what this USB was for!" He tells me to hold on while he goes to retrieve something from his bedroom. He wound up telling me later that at this time, he was retrieving the USB drive, making a copy of it, and plugging it into the modem.

Priest: "All done! Time for a victory drink over the forces of evil! Better known as the federal government and corporations."

I facepalm as dramatically as is physically possible. "Are you fucking kidding me? You were already done with it and you just FORGOT about it?"

Priest giggled like a damn drunken school girl before replying. "Look. Between drinking, naps, and smoking, it's hard to remember much else."

Me: "Speaking of, did you see that bag of medical grade I left for you? I split what I got from (my informant) the other day, and left you half."

Priest: "Oh yeah! I put some in the volcano, and the rest in the super secret storage place!"

Me: "....you're stoned to the gills right now, aren't you?"

Priest: "Naaah, just waiting on you! I got some nice rum from a friend in the Carribean! You should try some."

Me: "Alright, look, I have a few more errands to run and I'll come by your place after. Don't you DARE start smoking any more without me, I wanna try that volcano out."

Priest cackled at me through the phone, and agreed: "Lmfao, okay."

Me: "Grab me a bottle from the stash of my usual, you know the one. I wanna get blitzed and kill shit on Borderlands with you. I'm gonna need it after the day I've had."

Priest: "Sure. Everything going alright?"

Me: "Not exactly. Twerk's been hitting on the proxies like an idiot, the Bitch is riding my ass about the food situation, and Thomas wants to have our daily security meeting before I get high."

"Something about the last time I showed up stoned, I started rhapsodizing about how Gallows' hair looks spread out on my pillow, 'with light hitting each individual strand like a darkly lit rainbow.' I'm probably never gonna live that shit down."

Priest: "Yeah, sounds about right. You do tend to get sentimental when you're stoned or drunk. Have you even heard from Gallows lately? Our local homeless population has almost returned to normal in the time since he last visited."

Me: "No, but I did try calling his cell and leaving messages for him on his old blog. No telling when he'll see it, but hopefully he won't show up in the middle of all this and get pissed I didn't try to warn him first."

"I gotta go. I'm getting glared at for 'being rude.' Remember to grab me that bottle, yea?"

With that, I ended the call and made my way back into the house.

My bones and joints have begun to ache in the cold, and this winter has been no exception. Too many back alley fights, backhanded slaps to the jaw, and torture sessions to completely stay untouched by damage. Sorry, dear readers, my formerly pretty smile has a few jagged edges from those fights.

My body is deeply scarred by this point. No skin off my nose, of course, I think they're beautiful. I regard them, and my multitude of tattoos and piercings, as my physical way of saying 'fuck you' to Death.

Not like those eldritch bastards apparently want me dead, anyway. They might act like the reverse of the Final Destination movies for me, moving hazards out of my path, but I get punished every time for being careless. Recovering from being forced to ingest a gallon of bleach, for example, was not the most pleasant way to spend an evening.

They never take the pain, or even the injuries. I'm not that 'blessed.' They just haven't let me pass away peacefully yet. So, I spend my days running Sanctuary and recovering lost objects; such as journals, mementos of those that have passed, or even nostalgic items that remind me of my old friends.

I can't say it's been a bad life these past few years, despite how entirely fucked up it has become.

I get to help people. I get to stay high. I get to get laid when I want, however I want, and no: my lover doesn't care. We both find our distractions in the months in between his visits. I don't take it personally.

Someone tried anonymously emailing me from an obviously new email address, and asking me if I was fucking Slendy. For anyone else that had that horribly mistaken notion, no. That's creepy and nasty as hell. I'm just his occasional torture doll.

I have a complicated relationship with, well.. everyone. Even Them. I'll eventually talk about it, but Priest is waiting for me at his place, and I reeeeally need to smoke after wandering outside to catch a signal for that phone call. Plus, errands.

No riddles today, but hey, I'll be nice: I'll have friendly conversations with my commenters. Tonight only.

I mean, I'll be hammered and stoned for the duration of the night, thus no guarantees to the QUALITY of said conversations, but never let it be said I never try to be as nice to you guys as I used to be.

It's just excruciating to do so when I'm sober.

I'll be near my phone for anyone that cares. Over and out, guys.