Friday, August 31, 2012

Apologies II

As you may have guessed, that last post was the result of a lapse in 'security' on my end; I forgot to shut down my laptop, and...well, you can easily fill in the details, I'm sure.

On a more important note, my Target seems to have finally arrived from her grandparent's home, and is settling back into her house with her parents as I type.  I can feel her brushing against my mind.  She knows I'm here, and knows that I know it (I apologize if that was a confusing sentence).  She also knows how much damage she did in Pittsburgh.  I can't help but feel that she's smirking through the child, reaching out to poke at me so faintly to mock my weakness.

Now, I must address one particular issue.  It was pointed out before in a comment that I could simply use a gun to complete the assignment, and I responded that her 'area of effect' was spreading.  I'm currently standing down the block from her house, which is a corner building, and as stated above, can feel her from time to time, brushing against me.  I would require a rifle, and I do not own one.  Nor do I know how to fire one accurately.  Guns have never been my forte, though I have used them on occasion.  Always in close-quarters, however.

I have much planning to do.

Tuesday, August 28, 2012


Bodies.  Not sleeping.  Dead.  So very, very dead.  All arranged in perfect little rows.  Starting with the first, ending with the most recent.  Victims.  Hidden under shrouds.  Masks on their chests.  A display of my handiwork.

Two stand out.  White shrouds, not black.  First and last in line.  1 and 36.  1's mask is gone.  Burned in a fire.  Early job.  Nearly botched.  Nearly deadly.  Nearly.  36's mask is on my face.  Light.  Papery.  But there.  Always there.

Father isn't there.  Can't See Him.  Can't feel Him.  Solitude.  Isolation.  Loneliness.  I can't stand it.  I want to cut something.  I don't have my knife.  I can't move.

37 is there.  Walking the rows.  Head down.  Hands clasped at her chest.  Eyes closed.  Looks like she's praying.  Starts at 1, ends at 36.  Stops.  Looks up.  Opens her eyes.  Stares at me.  Cuts into me with her eyes.  Dissects me.  Just a child.  I'm pitiful.  Weak.

"You kill for something that sees you as little more than an insect."

She doesn't understand.  Never will.  Never.  She's the insect.

"When he is finished with you, you will die, too."

I know this.  I do not care.  Father's Will is my Will.  If I must die, so be it.  Life is just another disease.  Another terminal illness.  Father is the cure.

"You'll have nothing to show for your life but the red on your hands."

I relish the blood, child.  No, not a child.  Changing.  Shifting.  Becoming...something else.  Larger.  Darker.  Snarling.

"Not a fucking soul would miss you the way people miss Moral!"

Back in Antithesis.  World falling away.  Just me and that...thing.  Glorified hallucination.  But powerful.  Stronger than I.  Far stronger.

"Are we hypocritical, or are you just that vile?"

Shifting again.  In my home.  36 beneath me.  Reliving the kill.  Drawing my knife across his chest.  Bare.  Reeking of blood and sweat.  Redfaced.  Thrust in quick.  Doesn't scream.  Stab him again.  Doesn't scream.  Again.  Again.  Again.  AgainagainagainWHY WON'T YOU SCREAMagainagainagainagainagain...  No screaming.  Just smiles.  Bloody grin.  Final gasp.

"What a pitiful little bitch..."

Vision fades to red.  Stabbing.  Slashing.  Hacking.  Drop the knife.  Tearing with bare hands.  Organs come out.  Hair.  Skin beneath my nails.  He's already dead.  Don't care.  Keep tearing.

Finally stop to catch breath.  Body beneath me unrecognizeable.  Still talking.


Back with the bodies.  All of them repeating the same thing.  Over and over.  Pitiful.  Pitiful.  They stand.  Cast away their shrouds.  Circle around me.  Chanting.  Pitiful.  Can't wake up.  Need to wake up.  Can't take it.  Need to escape.  Why can't I wake up?  WHY CAN'T I WAKE UP?  WHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHY

"Memorias defunctorum, child, for they will certainly remember you."

Saturday, August 25, 2012


Well, according to Lucia and company, I left Antithesis on Tuesday of this week.  That would be irrelevant, were it not for the fact that it gives me roughly four days of lost time.  I do not know where I have been, I do not know what I have done, and I do not have the slightest clue where my Target is.

I'm beginning to consider feeling empathetic towards Runners, who have to deal with this sort of thing on Father's behalf all the time.  I believe that would make my job a little difficult, however, so I will try my best to refrain from doing so.

At any rate, I've returned to Minnesota for the time being.  Chances are my Target will return to her home at some point, so I'll simply wait for her to return.  Considering what happened in Pittsburgh, I am not overeager to face her again.  'Her' here can mean either Lucia or my Target, or both.  It would seem they decided to gang up on me during my little vacation, and now I'm...out of sorts, more or less.

As before, I will be shutting down my laptop shortly after this post and limiting my exposure to it throughout the week to reduce the possibility of another incoherent, cryptic post.

Sunday, August 19, 2012


I want to apologize for my previous post.  I did not feel well at all, and still do not.  As a target once said, regarding a wine-induced hangover, "If I move, bad things will happen."  So it is with me, though I am relatively certain I am not waiting outside the door, ready to make my move and eliminate my prone...self.

Regardless, my previous post was inexcusable.  Father should, by all rights, terminate me for that show of weakness.  He would not have waited this long, however.  I was always taught to live by one rule:  if He has not killed you within the first half-hour, your mistake was not grievous enough to warrant your execution.  Or He was in a good mood.

I must say goodbye for now.  This screen is giving me a headache, and I feel another wave of...whatever the hell is happening, coming on.  My laptop will be shut down to avoid another incident.

Friday, August 17, 2012

she weeps over them just dead bodies i killed them i killed them all no rest now no sleep nevernevernevernever for the wicked too wicked Father help me HELP MEHELPMEsaveme but he can't no he won't because i'm too weak just too weakWEAKWEAKWEAK and He won't save me He only saves the strong i'm going to die here

i see them all ALL OF THEM dead eyes staring victims glaring spirits turning corpses burning ashes flying embers dying crows shrieking bodies reeking lions roaring fires scorching Children screaming NO MORE DREAMING

and the fires burning will be my judgment the fires are my salvation burn it all burn it all away take them out of my head the bodies Bodies red stains on my pages the book burn it burn it fast just stop it all thepainthepain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain

he's coming for me

i am just fueling the Knight's fire

i will be burned away like all my victims

no one will mourn me

Sunday, August 12, 2012

Checking Out

I apologize for my lack of contact for the better part of the week, but I have been preparing to end my current assignment.  Now, I'm not one of the fools who posts how he will do something; I only post how I have done something.  That is to say, I will not bore you now with the details of my plans, but I will bore you later with the details of how I assassinated a young girl who was protected by something that forced me to play with a fucking doll.

Anyways, I managed to find a cafe with Wi-Fi, and remembered to bring my laptop with me when I left 'home base' for once, so I decided now would be as good a time as any to throw up a post.  I have time to kill, after all; 37 is currently on the move towards my general location and will be in position within half an hour to an hour.  Then I can to end this and get out of Lucia's hair.

Monday, August 6, 2012

Lesson Learned

When I last posted to you, I was on my desktop in one of my various 'homes.'  'Dens' might be a more appropriate word, given their size and the tendency of some in the blogosphere to compare me to a hunter, but what you call them is irrelevant.  What is relevant is where I am now:  I am posting from my laptop from the guest room of Antithesis.

I am not impressed.

Garish green bedcovers, a wall of glass to let the damnable sunlight in during the day, and a single painting.  Not a real painting, either; some generic forestscape, with tree upon tree upon tree.  I must give the decorators some credit, though:  the desk I'm seated at is made of mahogany, as is the bed frame and the dresser I will not likely use.  Reminds me of my most frequented den.  Nice mahogany table for carving.  The hospitality leaves much to be desired.

I have spent the past two days attempting to familiarize myself with the layout of the city.  I did not fail, but rather took an alternative route to succeeding.  While I cannot tell you where I went, nor could I find a particular spot in a short amount of time, I did succeed in finding where my Target is living for the time being.

I have also decided to indulge myself for once.  Why not?  After all, I'm vacationing in beautiful Pittsburgh after Father has sent me on what I can only assume to be a suicide mission, given the amount of opposition I've met in 37, so I might as well have my fun.  I will take care of the Target before she leaves the city.  Then I will return home, accept Father's forgiveness, and continue on serving Him.

...and while I'm dreaming, I'd also like a shiny new knife and for the pool of people who can somehow escape my Sight to stop expanding rapidly.  If that trait becomes obsolete, I'll have a serious problem.