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.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Apologies
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.
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.
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Contradistinction
I've just learned something very interesting. Something very interesting indeed.
Time to pay a visit to a good personal friend of mine.
Time to pay a visit to a good personal friend of mine.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Return
You may be wondering where I've been the past two weeks. To be perfectly honest, I wish I could tell you. Precious time has been wasted, slipping out of my hands into oblivion. Simply put, I seem to be suffering a mild but of amnesia.
The last thing I remember is stalking the Target in a large city. Her parents were talking animatedly about visiting the paternal grandparents, and she was walking between them, holding tightly onto both of their hands. I couldn't help but think at that moment how safe she must feel, surrounded by her parents, unaware that the Hunter was stalking her.
...or so I thought. As I began to quicken my approach, she suddenly stopped, whirled around, and glared at me. I was overcome with grief in that moment; I felt as though I'd been punched in the heart (symbollically speaking, of course), and was forced to my knees even as I began to weep openly. At this point, I was still roughly fifty feet from her, further than I'd been in our first encounter.
Everything else had stopped. Completely. Birds were suspended in mid-flight. People had stopped in mid-step. A ball was in the process of bouncing out in front of a car, a little boy chasing it into the street. The car coming would never see the child around the large van that was parked along the side of the road. In the opposite direction, a kid wearing a hooded sweatshirts had been paused mid-drag on a cigarette.
In the middle of all this, the Target approached me slowly. My body was still convulsing with sobs, so great was the grief pounding down on every fiber of my being. She crouched down to look me in the face, her head cocked. She, too, looked as though she were going to cry.
"This is how She feels for all those people you killed."
She shook her head. "You're only fueling the Knight's fire."
I'll be burned away like my victims, I finished in my head; I'd heard this speech before.
But she simply patted me on the head, murmured something unintelligible, and skipped back to her parents. As soon as she grabbed their hands, time resumed: the birds flew on, the kid in the hoodie continued smoking, and the driver clipped the poor child as he ran out to grab his ball.
I should have called it a day, but I didn't. I was angry. How dare she make me weep? So I rushed her and grabbed ahold of her arm.
Then I blacked out.
I woke up several hours ago. My head has been throbbing off and on, and I can't flex the fingers of my right hand without feeling pins and needles of pain all the way up my arm.
I believe I may be way over my head.
The last thing I remember is stalking the Target in a large city. Her parents were talking animatedly about visiting the paternal grandparents, and she was walking between them, holding tightly onto both of their hands. I couldn't help but think at that moment how safe she must feel, surrounded by her parents, unaware that the Hunter was stalking her.
...or so I thought. As I began to quicken my approach, she suddenly stopped, whirled around, and glared at me. I was overcome with grief in that moment; I felt as though I'd been punched in the heart (symbollically speaking, of course), and was forced to my knees even as I began to weep openly. At this point, I was still roughly fifty feet from her, further than I'd been in our first encounter.
Everything else had stopped. Completely. Birds were suspended in mid-flight. People had stopped in mid-step. A ball was in the process of bouncing out in front of a car, a little boy chasing it into the street. The car coming would never see the child around the large van that was parked along the side of the road. In the opposite direction, a kid wearing a hooded sweatshirts had been paused mid-drag on a cigarette.
In the middle of all this, the Target approached me slowly. My body was still convulsing with sobs, so great was the grief pounding down on every fiber of my being. She crouched down to look me in the face, her head cocked. She, too, looked as though she were going to cry.
"This is how She feels for all those people you killed."
She shook her head. "You're only fueling the Knight's fire."
I'll be burned away like my victims, I finished in my head; I'd heard this speech before.
But she simply patted me on the head, murmured something unintelligible, and skipped back to her parents. As soon as she grabbed their hands, time resumed: the birds flew on, the kid in the hoodie continued smoking, and the driver clipped the poor child as he ran out to grab his ball.
I should have called it a day, but I didn't. I was angry. How dare she make me weep? So I rushed her and grabbed ahold of her arm.
Then I blacked out.
I woke up several hours ago. My head has been throbbing off and on, and I can't flex the fingers of my right hand without feeling pins and needles of pain all the way up my arm.
I believe I may be way over my head.
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