Way Too Fucking Long

Holy fucking shit this competition stuff has to go. That was a waste of a week of my fucking life, thank you. At least I killed the assholes. Not that that's a fucking surprise. That Jack fucker can't even speak English properly, much less fucking kill people effectively.
Though the asshole did manage to get me injured. I couldn't walk for almost a week and I still beat him to the fucking kill.

The fucking rewind. We got assigned a pair of runners. I'm not sure what they did to be unlucky enough to get us on their cases, but it doesn't really fucking matter, does it? The boss wants them dead, so they die. I made it out to them quickly, found them on a rooftop and chatted them up. Played nice, pretended to be a fucking runner. There's two of them, I'd have to get them cornered if I didn't want to risk one of the fuckers getting away. It was... sickening. Absolutely sickening. They were fucking lovers or some shit, all sappy and romantic with each other. Enough to make me crave the kill even if I hadn't been assigned to them.

Romance is fucking disgusting. It's stupid, worthless, bullshit that will get you fucking killed! It's not some glorious high concept, it's a deplorable method of suicide! I hate romance and love and sex, it's worthless and if I had my way I would kill Every Last One who indulges in that crap. Makes me want to tear open their ribcages and vomit into them.

I digress. I'd tracked down these runners, we were getting cozy, when Jack the motherfucking wannabe ripper tracks us down and attacks /me/ like the idiot he is. I don't think the fucker even realized who I fucking am! He's completely useless in a real fight, the problems started when the runners decided to get involved to 'help' me. Fucking morons. Jack almost got in a lucky shot on the girl, so I had to step in to defend her-and he ended up slicing my side and knocking me off the roof a couple stories down onto the fire escape.
The lucky fuck managed to make me sprain my ankle rather badly.

I couldn't really get back up to them, I was lucky Jack's incompetant. As far as I can tell they slipped onto the fire escape which had big locking gates for some reason, and rushed down to me leaving him in the dust.

I had to play nice for a fucking week, because I couldn't fucking stand up, much less fight. They played nurse and took care of me, which was FUCKING HUMILIATING AS SHIT. I took GREAT PLEASURE in killing them. Decided to use a method I'd read about once-apparently assasins in Persia used to make a series of slices along major and minor veins, with the intent of keeping them alive and in pain for as long as possible. I hamstrung the man and made him watch me do this to the girl. To her credit, she lasted four hours. The man was horrified and sobbing, so I decided to first take his balls, give him a couple minor wounds, then force him to kill himself. With very little effort from me, I set it up to look like a murder-suicide. All I had to do was clean up the minor traces of my presence, then quietly leave before they were found.

Ugh, Fuck This

Apparently the boss fucking wants me to post on this damn thing. Hi, internet, fuck you all. If I had my way, I wouldn't be here. People who do blogs and shit on the internet need to get out of their fucking houses and do something instead of sitting around all fucking day.

It never fails to amaze me how the stupid little Runners will sit around writing blogs when their lives are fucking in danger. Morons.

Anyway. The name's Nat. My title is not important. I'm a Hunter, the only respectable thing to be, really. All these fucking pansy ass trackers and shit? Useless. Only cowards and weaklings can't make their own fucking kills.

Because, honestly, who wouldn't want to make their own kills? There is nothing in the fucking world better than chasing some asshole down, scaring the everloving shit out of them, and feeling the blade slice into their skin. The warm wetness of a mark's blood flowing in a beautiful crimson spray. It's the finest pleasure life has to offer. Watching the look in the eyes of a man who knows he's about to die... watching the light leave them and his body jerk, then go limp. Oh, it's fucking brilliant.

That's why I signed on, of course. I've been killing for a while, men and those unworthy, weak women who thought they needed them, but I have to say, having a fucking organization like this is pretty damn sweet. I get paid for my efforts, they help cover things up with the cops, and I have to say, it's fucking hilarious that when I turn in the fucking paperwork at the end of the day my boss rewards me with coffee and a muffin.

I have to say, he's not fucking bad. For a man. Men are by nature inferior, ruled by their passions and too fucking sex crazed to think straight. Useless, posturing fools, the lot of them. Their only use is for killing, and they are so very fun to kill.

Fun. Unlike blogging. I think I'm going to go kill a couple guys to make up for this miserable waste of my fucking time. Here's your post, boss, so fuck this, fuck you, and fuck anyone who's reading this.