Monday, 11 June 2012

In Which I Hold A Job Interview

You might have read that last report. Something 1A said stuck out.

"We've been cured"
And she kept up with it after I started cutting, oddly enough.
Now, this piqued the boss's interest as much as it did mine. Someone has been spreading lies to these poor, naive little fucks. So I elected to do some footwork and sniff out the disseminator of this awful rumour. Pro bono publico, you understand.

Someone has to be putting these ideas in your silly little heads, and I had a good idea who. After all, the rest of that little exchange included the name of the boss's absolute favourite person. So without further ado, I'll be getting on to the point.

Presented for your approval, Case #44531 [M101]

I tracked the rumour down by means of an initially uncooperative colleague. (I'm sure his hand will be fine in a month or two and besides you only need one hand to fill out reports. Maybe it'll free up someone useful to cover for him.)
He'd run into another case of this particular delusion and once I'd broken a few of his fingers was quite precise as to where the individual had been found. I'll cut out the next three hours of bumming around and one brief interlude of violence. Suffice it to say, I finally got a decent lead.

The particular prevaricating prick that my lead produced was holed up in a dingy bar. He seemed to fancy himself a bit of a mafioso. Now, procedure dictates that in an M101 case, one not engage without sufficient backup, in case there are bastards with guns and swat gear hiding somewhere nearby.

That being said, what's the fun in waiting? So I strolled in and I was very disappointed. There were five guys. Total. The guy behind the bar had a shotgun underneath the counter, two very heavyset gentlemen with guns at the door, our... recruiter, and his bodyguard in the back of the room. So I put on an act.

My performance of "Tired and frightened runner" wasn't one for the books but none of them were the sharpest tools in the shed. Hell, there are blunt instruments sharper than some of this lot.

The recruiter, one Mr. "White" (incidentally the colour of his suit) talked a big game, about how his "organization" would be able to cure me but that he didn't have the supply on hand (for obvious reasons). To his credit, he had enough brains not to let me anywhere near him without one of the big guys behind me. So not a complete idiot.

I'm surprised that the bodyguard didn't draw on me, he looked to be the only one who really knew what he was doing. Probably one of the swat goons. It was odd.
In fact, the whole thing smelt... funny. I mean, the two heavies looked like they'd have tried to tear me apart with their bare hands before drawing their guns, and the bodyguard had this funny way of staring at things. Kind of like he was seeing something wasn't there. And not in the usual sort of way.
Whatever it was, it slowed him down enough that he didn't quite reach his gun in time. He caught a knife in the throat. The barman on the other hand seemed to know what he should be doing and managed to get both of his shots off. Thankfully it wasn't a very good shotgun. Pulls to the right quite a bit and the barman must have thought he was Rambo, firing from the hip like that. It royally fucked up his aim much to the chagrin of the goon behind me.

Bit of really bad luck for him, great for me. He'd just grabbed me in a fucking bear hug when the shotgun blast meant for me hit him. (Like I said, it pulls to the right) Dead centre, too. If he'd weighed about 200 pounds less it would have knocked him right off of his feet. As it was he made a pretty good shield from the second blast, when he fell on top of me. Managed to get his gun though, so it sort of worked out.

The second heavy just came out swinging. Didn't even bother going for his gun. I managed to push his buddy out from on top of me. Barely. I tried to get a shot off and he swung at my head. Had to slide under a table to get away from him. Gave me a second to shoot him though, thank god. Lucky break, it could have ended badly, whatever the fuck he was on the man was strong as an ox. And about twice as big. A good swing and I'd be nursing quite a few broken ribs I think. At best.

That just left the barman, now frantically trying to reload his gun crouched behind the counter, and of course our rumourmonger. I unloaded the rest of my gun into the bar. It was made of plywood. Work out what happened for yourself.

Getting down to business. Our now frantic rumourmonger is trying vainly to get the gun out from the safety holster that his goon escort was wearing. The point of a safety holster is that other people aren't supposed to be able to get the gun out of it.
We had a short discussion, and I decided to bring him in for questioning. He also had a rather nice suit, which I borrowed after I knocked him out. About this time there was a knock at the back door. I borrowed the suit in question and went to see what the fuss was.

Well worth the trouble. Two more runners. The back room was used for poker games, and apparently walk-in cases hoping to get this "cure".
"Come on in boys. Have a seat."
We chat for a bit before it becomes quickly obvious that these two don't know a thing. They'd heard the information third-hand. At best. Might as well make the most of the opportunity.

"Well, our organization is small, but there's a lot of room for enterprising individuals such as yourselves. Well, I say a lot..." People become remarkably cooperative when you point a gun at them. "We've got one opening available right now, so here's a thought." Toss one of my knives between the two of them. "Call it a practical assessment. Winner gets the spot." Very cooperative.

I think young Mr. Robinson will do just fine incidentally. A little sloppy but I personally think he's got a lot of potential. So that should help a little with the lack of people to do work around here.

Let me make one thing abundantly clear little darlings. There's not a cure for our particular brand of fucked up. You want to go drink the kool-aid? Fine. Be my guest. It means that we're going to kill you. Or you can be smart little runners and stay the hell away from the likes Mr. "White" and maybe live a little longer.

Saturday, 9 June 2012

you can see everything

You fail, however, to reason from what you see. You are too timid in drawing your inferences.

I have felt, lately, that some of you are missing the whole point of this little charade in the name of friendship or magic or whatever is floating through your bloody minds. It makes no difference to me, but the point still stands; perhaps some of you are even harbouring what amounts to concern. It's kind of sickening, when you think about it, if not a little misguided. So let me make something perfectly clear for all of you, because what is evident is that you lot only observe what you want to observe.

This is not for you.

And I mean that in the plainest sense, with absolutely no animosity or spite; there's no need for that, especially in the face of this kind of incredible stupidity. Somewhere along the way, between my hilarious quips and subsequent complaints, an important fact became lost; I was, originally, commanded to create this blog and document my thoughts and actions. Since then, the order has changed, but in its most basic form, it still stands, undisturbed.

Every single dialogue we've shared, every piece of information I've presented, every single observation I've given? All part of the job. Nothing more, nothing less.

I suppose that part of the illusion is the comfort it provides. Perhaps it allows for you to think better of what you are yet to become when you see someone like me, someone who, maybe, is deep down a rather normal and likeable bloke, someone who you could see yourself being - if everything went well and truly sour. Trivialization is a fascinating phenomena; because it's something people will do right up to when they're about to die.

I've never fancied myself to be a liar. That's the messy sort of business, the business of my predecessors, and probably my successors. In our world (and yours, not matter how much you'd like to deny it), moral superiority means absolutely nothing aside from assigning you some kind of label of self-righteousness that one might like to believe helps them sleep better at night, but most probably doesn't, and yet it bothers me when it might be speculated that I am outright deceiving someone. And so we come to this; this is me, telling you,

Wake. Up.

Because if we ever cross paths while I'm on shift, I'm not showing you one ounce of bloody mercy.

Maybe this, all of this, is what some of you need to stay sane. To survive. Maybe you have nothing else left. And that?

That's a damn shame.


Report: Case 4705F - On 062951413's performance in the face of mild adversity

In keeping with the longtime and honourable tradition of useless and rather concerning paper trails, below I, 753381046, also known as "Sherlock", also known as "Joseph", have documented my mutual hunt of two (2) targets, as this mission acted as a diagnostic assessment for the new Squad Leader of the Baker Squad.

Formal request for previous district record and file was granted approximately [REDACTED] days ago.

062951413, also known as "Orion", also known as "Lister", requested the transfer of Division himself, leaving a seemingly comfortable job in one of the least active areas in the region. Though I cannot fathom what would cause him to do such a thing, 062951413 seems to follow orders well and without question, and preformed well in the situation. His only fault is that he has an obvious flare for the dramatic, which I cannot overlook with a clear conscience; if it gets in the way of results, I can assure you that he will be severely reprimanded, which will be put onto his record as a formal complaint, and I will scale punishment accordingly.

062951413 was officially dispatched at 23:00, unaware of my presence. I observed him exiting his place of residence, carrying various sharp objects (though I can safely say that he prefers a long razor in combat situations, [REDACTED] to incapacitate. It's high-risk but also high-return method, and will most likely prove useful against the killsquads. Of course, there's always the possibility of horrible, horrible failure, and if that is the case then 062951413 will most likely end up a smear on grimy concrete, a thought that, though morbidly entertaining, is also sobering).

4705F: 1A  - B

(I would like to note that the case title is inaccurate; though I originally tried to classify it as 4705F [M101], I was rebuked and told that [M101] was an official designation only to be used in cases confirmed to have Moriarty involvement, not in cases where involvement is suspected but can not be proved. Because the culminative amount of cases with confirmed Moriarty involvement can be counted on one hand, I have not only requested that the criteria of the [M101] designation be changed, but also have formally requested for the absolute numbskull that made the previous designation requirements to be dragged into the street and shot.)

Ah, 4705F 1A and B! We've had our collective on those two for a while now, the main reason being because they were not yet dead via evisceration or another method that our suited friend seems to enjoy so much. When 062951413 was ordered to eliminate them by any means necessary, I took it upon myself to accompany him. After all, who would leave such a delicate operation in the hands of the district amateur? I must note, however, that it is not that I didn't trust 062951413 to do the job, but rather took it upon myself to report on his actions, as per the orders handed down to me from the top; I know that my observational reports are quite highly regarded in terms of accuracy, and I can say with certainty that this document should be fully inducted into official records.


4705F 1A and B, female and male, seemingly related. 1A was known to be wily, evading passive capture and interrogation attempts, and was approximated to have been on the run for about four months. 1B, however, had only been accompanying 1A for about two weeks.

Fact: both subjects were seemingly unnoticed by the Tall Gentleman during the length of our observation, and Fact: they were in contact with some kind of outside... interference.

It is suspected that agents of Moriarty paid 1B a bit of a visit. What they did, however, is currently unknown.

They were apprehended by 062951413 with myself assisting after a few hours of direct surveillance. It may be noted at this time that while his skill demonstrated was rather impressive, 062951413 seemed to want to spill blood more than he wanted to finish the job, as ordered. His "interrogation", however, proved fruitful. 1A, while her skin was slowly being peeled off her body, screamed something about being "cured".

Cured. Rather troubling, wouldn't you say so, Sir(s) and Madame(s)...?

Formal request for official inquiry has been filed.

I disposed of 1B myself after an incident that involved a fair bit of... disrespect. It may be noted that 062951413 is free to comment on the incident if he so wishes, but I did not abuse my privileges as Handler. It may also be noted that removing teeth while the target is still alive, while messy, is also shockingly practical once said target is set on fire. I was informed the body was downright impossible to identify by the cleaning crews.

Formal request to have the technique taught to trainees in the future has been filed.

In conclusion, the investigation and subsequent elimination of 4705F 1A and B proved not only fruitful by way of information gathering, but also as a test of 062951413's abilities. I can say with a clear conscience that he will not disappoint, and has a bright future in regards to the Organization as a whole.

Expecting back the results of my filing within the month,



Tuesday, 5 June 2012

In Which I Blather About the State of Affairs

So, for those of you who think perhaps we're being bone idle, let me take a minute from the fucking paperwork to inform you otherwise. (I swear we didn't have this much paperwork in my division)

We (in this case we being the boss and myself) have been stuck with the problem that the squad is now operating well below where it ought to right now.

Normally, we'd find some replacements but apparently I'm the only one mad enough to come out here voluntarily. (Correction, the only competent person mad enough to come out here voluntarily.)

And that part about voluntarily is important because between the shake ups some of you might be aware of and other people not returning our calls, we can't get anyone out here. I mean literally we can't get any transfers. (Looks like Morningstar had the last orders to go through. The bastard)

So either we start a recruiting drive (like that'll fucking work), or we're going to have to go and have a few talks with some people (and the clean up will not be fun).

How's that for hospitality?