What else is there to live for? Stand at the window here. Was ever such a dreary, dismal, unprofitable world? See how the yellow fog swirls down the street and drifts across the dun-coloured houses. What could be more hopelessly prosaic and material? What is the use of having powers when one has no field upon which to exert them? Crime is commonplace, existence is commonplace, and no qualities save those which are commonplace have any function upon earth.
... fuck. It's... Sherlock. My ID number is [REDACTED], my squad name is, officially, the "Baker Street Regulars". I am, as ordered, reporting.
As punishment.
Due to faulty intelligence, our squad was deceived into thinking that 66342-O was some kind of mortal. That he was able to be killed. The lack of results, therefore falls solely onto me. I ask for the disciplinary hearing to take that into account. The fault was none other than my own Hubris. As such, I have been advised to... share absolutely everything that I know about David Banks, for, and I quote "Your own good, and your squad's. Unless, of course, Sherlock, you're as heartless as some of your reports paint you as~!". I have... chosen to take my Handler's, Writer's, advice.
David Banks and I have been in close contact for about three months. We initially met, at his bequest, within Location #45BnC, more commonly known as the Cafe Loop. From there, contact continued. Seemingly... somewhat... occasionally by what seemed to be chance, but what also may have been tracking on further inspection. I...
(I'm so sorry)
I was never told to cease contact with Mr. Banks, and the contact steadily became more regular and direct. More focused. There was an incident in which I was interrupted on... my way to a bridge. As such, we became what could be classified as "closer"?
... Under orders, I am to state exactly what the nature of this relationship is. The intention of this, so I'm told, is humiliation. As such; I have entered a close, intimate, emotional relationship with a direct superior. I am not of the same rank as him. I have "exploited" this position and intentionally kept it concealed from my squad and the public. I am aware of Mr. Banks' engagement. My actions have been described as those of a "concubine", and I am instructed to agree with this assessment. I am aware that my actions have been put on my record, and that I'm to await further instruction and punishment. I consent to whatever further action that can and/ or will take place.
I am also aware that Mr. Banks has the right to comment on this issue, but also am aware that he only has partial control over this situation. I have been advised to inform Mr. Banks that his input, however, will be taken into consideration. I consent to this information being recorded and filed in differing types of media. I consent t-to possible termination for my behaviour, though I h-hhave been informed such a decision is unlikely under the current circumstances. I cconsent to taking full responsibility for the failure of the assignment. I consent to demotion and-dd transfer.
... in other, happpier news, let's welcome an ollld friend of m-minee, The Janitor, t-to the Baker Squad. I do hoope the transfer wasn't too ttroublesome.
Aas such, I will continue my investigationn of the faulty intelligence. A-awaiting further orders.
Tuesday, 31 January 2012
(Cat on a Piano)
As "Joseph" has declined to submit a report, presented are Observations on his Status upon returning to the Cafe Loop. Further Observation has been deemed Unwise. It is unclear at the Present Time as to the Status of 66342-O. Draw what Conclusions you will from the Facts.
Observations begin.
Overall state of subject "Joseph": Bedraggled.
- Subject seemed to be covered in both blood and what may have been crude oil.
- Upon attempted inspection, Subject refused to explain the aforementioned crude oil and blood.
- Blood did not appear to belong to Subject.
- Subject was lacking one pant leg and roughly one-third of the lower portion of his shirt.
- Lower portion of the shirt appeared to have been removed in an incendiary fashion.
- Subject was carrying what appeared to be a length of bent steel rebar and a dead cat.
- On further inspection the cat was not, in fact, deceased.
- Said cat is currently occupying a lavatory on the second floor.
- Suggest avoiding the lavatory on the second floor.
- A sign has been attached to the lavatory on the second floor, indicating the presence of the cat.
- Subject had no observable wounds (lacking Thorough Inspection)
- Subject seemed to display signs of Agitation upon arrival at the Cafe Loop.
- Subject refuses to mention any details of the Incident.
- Subject refuses to leave the third floor of the Cafe Loop.
- Suggest Avoiding the Third Floor of the Cafe Loop altogether.
End observations.
.....-
Addendum: Thus far, the only words uttered by subject have been "Do not ask". When pressed with further inquiry, a rather large mug of coffee was observed to fly through the door, narrowly missing my head. Further inquiry was avoided for Reasons of Personal Safety.
.....-
it is a capital mistake to theorize before you have all the evidence (alternatively, a scandal in bohemia)
Considering all the evidence points towards all of you being incredibly incompetent. Do you know the target's status?
NOT. DEAD.
Do you see a problem with this?
HE'S NOT BLOODY DEAD, THAT'S THE PROBLEM YOU LOT OF IDIOTS.
This is stupid. This is so spectacularly stupid that I've decided that essential "house arrest" be damned. You're all getting the most scathing report I can manage once I get back. I'm not going to have this on MY head because not ONE OF YOU CAN MANAGE ONE. FUCKING. KILL.
This would be tossin' hilarious if it wasn't so god damn pathetic.
Let's have good ol' "Joseph" put on a good show then, hm?
A Picture of Elegance
The Man directed my wrath towards yet another insolent wretch. He was the one known as "Omega", a figure of some reknown, one who gathered tomes of knowledge to archive in digital format. I hesitated, perhaps, to strike down a scholar, but the Man's orders must be obeyed. It will surely prove to have been for the best. Most likely this Omega preached falsehoods that slandered the Man.
It was a cool winter's evening. I gazed to the industrial complex which my target's footsteps, still fresh in the soft snow, ceased at. As I paused to gather myself and ready for the strike, a single blossom of the west fell from a tree above. Such a rarity within this season of frost was sure to be a sign of success. With that, I strode forward and opened the door.
Above, on a catwalk, he stood, gazing at the various abandoned machinery. There were conveyor belts, processors, and empty cans everywhere. He was furiously eating something out of one. I gave out a fierce shout to draw his attention.
He turned to me, shoveling what appeared to be some kind of noodles into his mouth with a fork. "You okay? Step on a pin or something?"
"Silence! Scholar Omega, by mandate of your Lord and Master, I demand you stand fast for execution!" With that I was scaling the stairwell, until I was just feet away from him. The wretch finished his meal, before reaching into his coat's pocket and hurling a veritable typhoon of cans at me, with a cry of "THANK GOODNESS FOR CHEF BOYARDEE!"
I stumbled over a can, and the target turned to flee. Pursuing him, he continued to babble about this strange cook. Ahead of us, the catwalk turned sharply to the left. I put on a burst of speed, but another can fell from this lunatic's hand and my foot stepped on it. Good fortune was not with me that day. Tripping forward, I shoved out with my hands and caught his back, sending him hurtling over the catwalk and directly into one of the food processors.
I...do not believe that the machine was originally intended for such large portions, but it did an admirable joke regardless. A fitting fate- turned into the very product of the chef he loved. I suppose that it does not take much to snap the mind of a man, but...I cannot help but wonder about this "Chef Boyardee."
I recall seeing some of those cans at the local grocery store. I will obtain "Joseph's" leave to investigate further.
It was a cool winter's evening. I gazed to the industrial complex which my target's footsteps, still fresh in the soft snow, ceased at. As I paused to gather myself and ready for the strike, a single blossom of the west fell from a tree above. Such a rarity within this season of frost was sure to be a sign of success. With that, I strode forward and opened the door.
Above, on a catwalk, he stood, gazing at the various abandoned machinery. There were conveyor belts, processors, and empty cans everywhere. He was furiously eating something out of one. I gave out a fierce shout to draw his attention.
He turned to me, shoveling what appeared to be some kind of noodles into his mouth with a fork. "You okay? Step on a pin or something?"
"Silence! Scholar Omega, by mandate of your Lord and Master, I demand you stand fast for execution!" With that I was scaling the stairwell, until I was just feet away from him. The wretch finished his meal, before reaching into his coat's pocket and hurling a veritable typhoon of cans at me, with a cry of "THANK GOODNESS FOR CHEF BOYARDEE!"
I stumbled over a can, and the target turned to flee. Pursuing him, he continued to babble about this strange cook. Ahead of us, the catwalk turned sharply to the left. I put on a burst of speed, but another can fell from this lunatic's hand and my foot stepped on it. Good fortune was not with me that day. Tripping forward, I shoved out with my hands and caught his back, sending him hurtling over the catwalk and directly into one of the food processors.
I...do not believe that the machine was originally intended for such large portions, but it did an admirable joke regardless. A fitting fate- turned into the very product of the chef he loved. I suppose that it does not take much to snap the mind of a man, but...I cannot help but wonder about this "Chef Boyardee."
I recall seeing some of those cans at the local grocery store. I will obtain "Joseph's" leave to investigate further.
(Amusing Sound Effect)
Report begins: Case 66342-O
.
66342-O leaves a discernible Pattern in events, which makes him simple to track. Several incidences of spontaneous combustion and a particularly unusual car accident provided a rough location of the target.
.
From this point the necessary exercise of tracking proved remarkably easy. Where there is smoke, there is fire. 66342-O was sighted in a condominium complex, where it was reported that one of the residents had survived a fall of approximately 30 metres unscathed.
.
Initial sighting of 66342-O occurred from the ground, at approximately 01:20 on the sixth floor of the building on one of the balconies. Attached photographs should confirm the identity of 66342-O, however the following report is a more thorough proof. Entrance to the building was remarkably simple to achieve. A group of Ordinaries employed as maintenance staff consume controlled substances by the south-west entrance to the building on a fairly regular basis. A maintenance door here is left unsecured and the alarms and security measures have been compromised as a means to cover these activities.
.
The maintenance elevator allows access to the sixth floor. From there, it is not difficult to find the balcony. 66342-O is no longer present. There is, however, a convenient and conspicuously placed grand piano. I suspect some form of Synchronicity may be involved. Following this assumption, I search the grounds below. 66342-O is standing at ground level, apparently unaware of his surroundings. The piano would do. The ledge was sufficiently low that leveraging of the piano over it and onto the ground was not difficult to achieve.
.
What was unexpected was the the piano detonated violently upon impact. It is Unclear what the Cause of the explosion was, most likely there was some form of explosive located within the frame of the piano or on the person of 66342-O.
Kill Confirmed. The Incident will most likely be explained as a form of malicious vandalism gone wrong.
-
End Report
"Burn it to the ground"
I went after the one that was assigned to us. A man who has supposedly been killed many times. All of us, for one man. Idiocy.
I did as I often do, and met up with him as I do with marks at times. We talked, I flirted... He called me a "slut" or something of the kind before shooting at me and running. He did not deserve any kindness, any easing into the darkness.
It is interesting at times to see just how many times you can cut a person before they truly start to die. Pouring the liquid into his wounds. He was barely alive when I started the fire, in shock. Tied to a chair. Bleeding and so very lovely. The look in his eyes was delicious. He deserved it for his words.
Unfortunately, I did not realize that the building I had cornered him in contained many... fuochi d'artificio. It was glorious, though I barely escaped with my own life. So pretty, the sparks, the fire... The sounds. That crackling, the explosions. The colors. I managed to find my way to a nearby rooftop for the show.
Pretty. I like warehouses rather a lot. I am wounded now... It hurts.
A Damn Good Time
It's always great when the boss finally has a new target for us, and this one was great. Some runner fuck who's apparently very good at escaping death or something called him... Orion? O'reiley? Omega? Doesn't hardly matter, he died just the fucking same.
Which is to say, painfully and well.
I set this O'Malley fuck up in a strip mall of all fucking things. I don't know what posessed him, but he went for it. Probably thought he'd be safe in a big crowd or something, I don't fucking know the way the stupid runner fucks think. But it was closing time, and it didn't take much effort to... dispose of the closing clerk at the kitchen store Omega found himself in and lock the stupid fuck inside.
Those little metal lattice things stores use to keep from being robbed are pretty good for keeping someone inside, as well. Just took a little bit of fussing with shelving to block off the view of what I was doing to the poor fuck.
And I admit, I took my time. Used several tablecloths stolen from the store to keep from making a mess on their floor, used a couple clotheslines similarly stolen to bind him so I could have my fun.
It's been a while since I really sat down and tortured someone, after all.
Or it was.
Kitchen supply stores are perfect for torture supplies. Lots of high quality knives, plenty of heat sources designed to cook meat. Plenty of strange, sharp odds and ends.
Apparently it's not acceptable to go into too much detail about one's techniques, but I'll give you a list of the tools I used, to give you a picture.
One Sandwich grill
One flat cheesegrater
One circular battery powered cheesegrater
One heavy marble rolling pin
Two knives, one short and wickedly pointed, the other longer with a better edge
One heavy duty meat tenderizer
One popcorn maker, sans popcorn (used for heating oil)
One restauraunt quality industrial slicer
One smaller slicer that the box called a Mandoline
One pair of kitchen shears
One heavy stone pestle
One peeler
One handheld juicer
One nut cracker
One canister salt
One bottle of lemon juice
One egg timer (used as a gag, along with a torn bit of tablecloth)
I waited until the place was properly cleared out, due to the potential for noise, and then got to work. I spent most of the night on him, and he only died an hour before sunset, which I was fairly impressed by.
I then rolled him up in the tablecloths for transport, used the store's cleaning products to clean my implements, and toted everything out in a pair of trashbags, looking like just another employee cleaning up. The kitchen supplies, after being soaked in bleach for an hour, were dumped in the man-made lake the mall is built around. The body has already been quietly handed over to a particularly useful crematoriam worker to be incinerated.
Which is to say, painfully and well.
I set this O'Malley fuck up in a strip mall of all fucking things. I don't know what posessed him, but he went for it. Probably thought he'd be safe in a big crowd or something, I don't fucking know the way the stupid runner fucks think. But it was closing time, and it didn't take much effort to... dispose of the closing clerk at the kitchen store Omega found himself in and lock the stupid fuck inside.
Those little metal lattice things stores use to keep from being robbed are pretty good for keeping someone inside, as well. Just took a little bit of fussing with shelving to block off the view of what I was doing to the poor fuck.
And I admit, I took my time. Used several tablecloths stolen from the store to keep from making a mess on their floor, used a couple clotheslines similarly stolen to bind him so I could have my fun.
It's been a while since I really sat down and tortured someone, after all.
Or it was.
Kitchen supply stores are perfect for torture supplies. Lots of high quality knives, plenty of heat sources designed to cook meat. Plenty of strange, sharp odds and ends.
Apparently it's not acceptable to go into too much detail about one's techniques, but I'll give you a list of the tools I used, to give you a picture.
One Sandwich grill
One flat cheesegrater
One circular battery powered cheesegrater
One heavy marble rolling pin
Two knives, one short and wickedly pointed, the other longer with a better edge
One heavy duty meat tenderizer
One popcorn maker, sans popcorn (used for heating oil)
One restauraunt quality industrial slicer
One smaller slicer that the box called a Mandoline
One pair of kitchen shears
One heavy stone pestle
One peeler
One handheld juicer
One nut cracker
One canister salt
One bottle of lemon juice
One egg timer (used as a gag, along with a torn bit of tablecloth)
I waited until the place was properly cleared out, due to the potential for noise, and then got to work. I spent most of the night on him, and he only died an hour before sunset, which I was fairly impressed by.
I then rolled him up in the tablecloths for transport, used the store's cleaning products to clean my implements, and toted everything out in a pair of trashbags, looking like just another employee cleaning up. The kitchen supplies, after being soaked in bleach for an hour, were dumped in the man-made lake the mall is built around. The body has already been quietly handed over to a particularly useful crematoriam worker to be incinerated.
Saturday, 14 January 2012
we'll take the case
Apparently we're all being sent after one guy. Omega, I think it is...? Whatever. This one'll be an easy one; hopefully it's added to the Baker team kill count...
Regardless, even if I'm technically not allowed out of the cafe, I can't see there being any issues. It's only one person. How difficult can it be?
Reports to go up soon.
Regardless, even if I'm technically not allowed out of the cafe, I can't see there being any issues. It's only one person. How difficult can it be?
Reports to go up soon.
Tuesday, 3 January 2012
My dears, it's been a while.
And I really, truly must apologize for my absence. Lord knows all you people do is sit about your computers all day and declare to the internet the vast depths of your sorrow and solitude. And as much as I take nothing but simple delight in your suffering (it's like a fine wine, you see - though perhaps whine is a better word for it - the more you allow it to fester in the darkness, the better it becomes. And the more of it you take in, the better the world around you seems to become~) I'm afraid I'm far too busy a man to really take time to savour more than the aroma.
Really, you're all much more interesting in person.
I suppose, though, before I continue on any further with my delighted little ramblings I should proceed with the evening's report. With my dearest "Joseph" currently... shall we say, out of commission after the events of the New Years party (which was simply fabulous, by the way. I observed perhaps fifteen minutes of the entire fiasco as little more than a wallflower, watching pure, blissful chaos unfold before my eyes. You really should have been there.) it's up to myself, the Handler, the babysitter, to provide you with a report.
"Joseph" (last name withheld), AKA Sherlock, squad leader, highly skilled hunter and exceptionally sharp tracker, sustained considerable injuries after the events of 31/12/2011. Four of his twenty-four ribs are cracked and countless more are bruised, leading to much difficult in both working and everyday tasks. His hands are heavily burnt, though only on the palm and the bottoms of the fingers, where he appears to have gripped something - or perhaps someone, given the maelstorm of a New Years party that he had put on. Many cuts and bruises also mar his flesh, though none are life-threatening. His nose possesses a slight kink and can be considered, if nothing else, the only blemish on an otherwise perfect face.
Estimated recovery time: 3-4 weeks.
A request for an official leave of absence has been submitted. Please consider the above and this man and his squad's immense talents while approving this request. Please also consider that I have reason to believe that he (and his team) will have no issues operating in his absence, and the backlog of work he is sure to receive is of no consequence. They have proved time and time again to be one of our best and brightest, and month long leave of absence will not hinder them in any way.
Now, onto more important issues.
I'm sure you've all been dying to know what I've been up to. Believe it or not, mes petits cheris, I do have other duties than stalking my beloved ex-partner and harassing Ms. Logan - though I do concede that they're the two jobs I take the most pleasure in.
Speaking of Ms. Logan~!
Gargoyle, darling, I really must thank you for being the shining beacon of hope and common sense in this dank, dark world. Your little analysis of Elaine was, as to be expected, completely dead-on and perhaps more well thought-out than I could ever hope to accomplish - if only because I'd have to break off mid-rant to allow myself a breath of air and perhaps a few remarks as to her ongoing relationship with my dearest Teller.
Do you really think he loves you, darling? Do you really think this is a man that is capable of love? That's capable of caring? Even if Spencer Fitzgerald shows some level of protectiveness for his disaster of a family, (and what a wonderful disaster they are, judging by their dear housewive's recount of their third collapse on record. Who knows how many times they've suffered through this unofficially~!) but what has he shown you? Oh sure, he's given you a home in exchange for a hole to fill and perhaps even whispered 'I love you's once - or maybe even twice - but think, Ms. Logan, really, truly think. I know it's a difficult concept for you, considering you seem to be unable to grasp the simple truth at your fingertips (And in no way is this clearer if you do not believe me in regards to Teller than it is in Mr. Broodmoor. You think his intentions are pure. That would almost be endearing if it weren't so idiotic.) but really, consider the facts. You've noted his paradoxical behaviour. You've seen how quickly he slips back into his biting, spiteful, cold, hateful self so easily. You've seen insincerity in his eyes.
You've chosen to block it all out though, haven't you~? Too scared, too terrified, too utterly petrified of the thought that Spencer Fitzgerald - that a frigid, self-centred, violent and clearly sociopathic if not psychopathic man - could really begin to love anybody? Especially you? You, who have time and time again failed them? The ones you held dear~? The ones you swore to protect? How long are you going to continue to lock away the truth, Ms. Logan? How long before you realize everything you've blinded yourself from and realize just
what
a
failure
you are? The sooner you do, the sooner the rest of us can get on with our lives. You're a burden, Lainey, and you're too blind with emotion to see it. Too desperate to cling onto what little you have left in this world to realize that you're only being kept around out of convenience, out of the fact that they feel that they owe it to themselves to oblige you, out of the fact that you're useful - though don't go thinking you've got half a brain worth keeping in that skull of yours, Ms. Logan. The only uses people seem to have found in you are your money and your, shall we say, promiscuous nature.
Dwell on that. I know it's not the first time you've heard it, and you and I both know it won't be the last~!
As for myself, you'll all be pleased to know Rhodes and I have spent quite some time together. He's been in Montreal for the last few weeks with myself, discussing matters classified in nature. While what exactly we've discovered is, of course, neither my responsibility nor my right to explain, I can tell you that is it simply fascinating, and has the potential to usher in a new age. Forgive my melodrama, but I really am quite excited~! Such power is sure to make for a wonderful turn of events.
Oh. Oh yes. It's simply splendid. My dear companion has already spoken a bit of it, but with some time and patience we've managed to unlock a few more secrets. What follows will be... interesting.
For us, anyway~ For the rest of you? The Runners, the Stalked? Perhaps not so much.
Only time will tell~!
... Yes, in fact, this is a wonderful place to leave you off. I'm a busy man, after all. Things to do, lives to ruin and all that. My superiors have been generous with their assignments as of late.
No matter. Nothing but a little more blood to be spilled~!
Perhaps I'll wear the black suit tonight. I haven't the patience nor the time to be careful with these ones. Just some faceless, nameless squatters in a little city north of here. Runners, of course. No blog to speak of. Just two more souls adrift in the great white aether, little more than sacks of muscle and bone matter for this world to remember them by.
It'll be fun.
Really, you're all much more interesting in person.
I suppose, though, before I continue on any further with my delighted little ramblings I should proceed with the evening's report. With my dearest "Joseph" currently... shall we say, out of commission after the events of the New Years party (which was simply fabulous, by the way. I observed perhaps fifteen minutes of the entire fiasco as little more than a wallflower, watching pure, blissful chaos unfold before my eyes. You really should have been there.) it's up to myself, the Handler, the babysitter, to provide you with a report.
"Joseph" (last name withheld), AKA Sherlock, squad leader, highly skilled hunter and exceptionally sharp tracker, sustained considerable injuries after the events of 31/12/2011. Four of his twenty-four ribs are cracked and countless more are bruised, leading to much difficult in both working and everyday tasks. His hands are heavily burnt, though only on the palm and the bottoms of the fingers, where he appears to have gripped something - or perhaps someone, given the maelstorm of a New Years party that he had put on. Many cuts and bruises also mar his flesh, though none are life-threatening. His nose possesses a slight kink and can be considered, if nothing else, the only blemish on an otherwise perfect face.
Estimated recovery time: 3-4 weeks.
A request for an official leave of absence has been submitted. Please consider the above and this man and his squad's immense talents while approving this request. Please also consider that I have reason to believe that he (and his team) will have no issues operating in his absence, and the backlog of work he is sure to receive is of no consequence. They have proved time and time again to be one of our best and brightest, and month long leave of absence will not hinder them in any way.
Now, onto more important issues.
I'm sure you've all been dying to know what I've been up to. Believe it or not, mes petits cheris, I do have other duties than stalking my beloved ex-partner and harassing Ms. Logan - though I do concede that they're the two jobs I take the most pleasure in.
Speaking of Ms. Logan~!
Gargoyle, darling, I really must thank you for being the shining beacon of hope and common sense in this dank, dark world. Your little analysis of Elaine was, as to be expected, completely dead-on and perhaps more well thought-out than I could ever hope to accomplish - if only because I'd have to break off mid-rant to allow myself a breath of air and perhaps a few remarks as to her ongoing relationship with my dearest Teller.
Do you really think he loves you, darling? Do you really think this is a man that is capable of love? That's capable of caring? Even if Spencer Fitzgerald shows some level of protectiveness for his disaster of a family, (and what a wonderful disaster they are, judging by their dear housewive's recount of their third collapse on record. Who knows how many times they've suffered through this unofficially~!) but what has he shown you? Oh sure, he's given you a home in exchange for a hole to fill and perhaps even whispered 'I love you's once - or maybe even twice - but think, Ms. Logan, really, truly think. I know it's a difficult concept for you, considering you seem to be unable to grasp the simple truth at your fingertips (And in no way is this clearer if you do not believe me in regards to Teller than it is in Mr. Broodmoor. You think his intentions are pure. That would almost be endearing if it weren't so idiotic.) but really, consider the facts. You've noted his paradoxical behaviour. You've seen how quickly he slips back into his biting, spiteful, cold, hateful self so easily. You've seen insincerity in his eyes.
You've chosen to block it all out though, haven't you~? Too scared, too terrified, too utterly petrified of the thought that Spencer Fitzgerald - that a frigid, self-centred, violent and clearly sociopathic if not psychopathic man - could really begin to love anybody? Especially you? You, who have time and time again failed them? The ones you held dear~? The ones you swore to protect? How long are you going to continue to lock away the truth, Ms. Logan? How long before you realize everything you've blinded yourself from and realize just
what
a
failure
you are? The sooner you do, the sooner the rest of us can get on with our lives. You're a burden, Lainey, and you're too blind with emotion to see it. Too desperate to cling onto what little you have left in this world to realize that you're only being kept around out of convenience, out of the fact that they feel that they owe it to themselves to oblige you, out of the fact that you're useful - though don't go thinking you've got half a brain worth keeping in that skull of yours, Ms. Logan. The only uses people seem to have found in you are your money and your, shall we say, promiscuous nature.
Dwell on that. I know it's not the first time you've heard it, and you and I both know it won't be the last~!
As for myself, you'll all be pleased to know Rhodes and I have spent quite some time together. He's been in Montreal for the last few weeks with myself, discussing matters classified in nature. While what exactly we've discovered is, of course, neither my responsibility nor my right to explain, I can tell you that is it simply fascinating, and has the potential to usher in a new age. Forgive my melodrama, but I really am quite excited~! Such power is sure to make for a wonderful turn of events.
Oh. Oh yes. It's simply splendid. My dear companion has already spoken a bit of it, but with some time and patience we've managed to unlock a few more secrets. What follows will be... interesting.
For us, anyway~ For the rest of you? The Runners, the Stalked? Perhaps not so much.
Only time will tell~!
... Yes, in fact, this is a wonderful place to leave you off. I'm a busy man, after all. Things to do, lives to ruin and all that. My superiors have been generous with their assignments as of late.
No matter. Nothing but a little more blood to be spilled~!
Perhaps I'll wear the black suit tonight. I haven't the patience nor the time to be careful with these ones. Just some faceless, nameless squatters in a little city north of here. Runners, of course. No blog to speak of. Just two more souls adrift in the great white aether, little more than sacks of muscle and bone matter for this world to remember them by.
It'll be fun.
Monday, 2 January 2012
(Auld Lang Syne)
Pursuant to the festivities of the other evening, I am providing the following recounting of the Events, as none of the other members of Baker Squad are inclined, willing or capable of doing so.
Guests begin arriving at the Cafe Loop at approximately 20:00. It is at this point that events began to Fail to go awry. It is this fact which I suspect is the source of the Incident which occurred later that evening.
It should not be surprising to Irregulars that a gathering of this size is not Common. There are many Reasons for this. Some of them were demonstrated during the festivities.
Though several of the invited parties fail to arrive, the Cafe Loop is quickly filled. Providing a guest list would be both Counter-productive and time-consuming, and the following summary will suffice. The list, upon inspection, appeared to be tailored to produce a Situation which others might describe as "caustic" or "dangerous". Both would be Reasonably Accurate. "Highly Flammable" would be another means of describing the resulting atmosphere within the Cafe Loop.
Though minor disruptions appear throughout the evening, the expected conflagration did not occur. Various parties of Differing Opinions would interact during which the collective reaction of Baker Squad would best be likened to that of the population of a Certain European Country upon hearing an air raid siren sound.
As a result of the continued neutral atmosphere, tension continued to rise, which "Joseph" briefly Failed to Adapt to. As the evening wore on and the Expected Hour passed without notice, the expected conflagration did occur. The Incident, occurring at approximately 00:32:02, began following a discussion between "Joseph" and the Direct Superior of Knight Squad, over attendance of certain individuals.
Noted: The list of Individuals Invited was delivered to "Joseph" by the Direct Superior of Baker Squad, approximately three days prior. Upon examination of the list "Joseph" was observed to [REDACTED]. The list could best be described as Inclusive, to the point at which this becomes Problematic.
This discussion quickly heated to the point at which an altercation began. It is unclear who is responsible for the altercation. Injuries sustained by both "Joseph" and one of the guests. It is at this point that "Joseph" began to alter the Loop superficially. This is normally Not Advised. Following this several of the guests, including Knight Squad, became involved in what is most efficiently described as a "fracas".
At some point during the Incident Knight Squad's Superior appears to have forcibly removed "Joseph" from the Cafe Loop for a period which is estimated to have lasted four minutes, during which hostilities escalated significantly before intervention by "Joseph". The result of altering a Loop significantly and rapidly seem to have produced backlash.
It is not believed that injuries were sustained by any parties of Importance other than "Joseph".
It is not believed that injuries were sustained by any parties of Importance other than "Joseph".
Resultant repairs to both "Joseph" and the Cafe Loop have necessitated delay in this post. Both are now approaching Proper Working Order.
. . . . . -
whichis it todasy?
since I am rather good with matrters involving the humann bodsy, it would saeem that myr rsathewr greviosu injuriess are not sdo grevious. Likewuse it woulsd seem tgat the painkiller of choicew turned oiut to be,incidentally the righnt choiucem, as it alwsys tends to bbe.
Iin conclusion, the ppoarty coulds be jusgedsd as anjobjexctive success, as nobody is cureentlygt deasd. Howevera, if ones mightds be incliened to argue, it woukld seem that i cameratherds clossae to a bloodsy and burn st soret of ending. Evewsn Writer seemed s concerendfd (whenws he finallytre shokowed up). However, buisinessa shall procceed as usual,m once i figurew outhoww to mak e thhe room stop spinning.
Iin conclusion, the ppoarty coulds be jusgedsd as anjobjexctive success, as nobody is cureentlygt deasd. Howevera, if ones mightds be incliened to argue, it woukld seem that i cameratherds clossae to a bloodsy and burn st soret of ending. Evewsn Writer seemed s concerendfd (whenws he finallytre shokowed up). However, buisinessa shall procceed as usual,m once i figurew outhoww to mak e thhe room stop spinning.
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