You know my friends. I don't have many joys in life these days. Work, work, work. Avert Catastrophe. With my Great Power comes Great Responsibility. Etc. It is kind of a rare thing to get to play with Runners anymore. They usually have to be involved in this mess, and really... You know you guys ALWAYS wander into these kinds of messes one way or the other. But today was a free day, and the Team is getting a little bit on edge. No blood in days. So, we got a call from MARCUS and he told us that a group of runners communicating via Skype were meeting up in Illinois. The Team just happened to be in state and MARCUS was kind enough to throw the job to us. Guess he knew we were getting a bit tense. Hehehe. So, we had a plan in place. Proxy BOB and I were going to find a Grand Piano. The Skype Logs suggest that one of the runners, going by the Screen name Morpheus, was a Pianist and that seemed to be his escape from the horror that is reality.
Gleeman and Recluse would kidnap another of the Runners and bring them to this old Factory we have access to. The Other Runners, including Morpheus, would come to try and save their kidnapped friend. See. This little Team had bonded with their tales of narrow escape and survival. A woman named Jessie was the brains of the group and she had even managed to pull the old Electricity trick to make Father react to it. Morpheus was the gentle heart of the group. The token pacifist, you know the one. "Let's Save the Proxies" kinda guy. Then we had Hammer. Morpheus's opposite in the group. Killer of Proxies. Even manged to kill off the Group's main tormentor, a Proxy by the name of L(x)renzo. We also had Ames, the token Psychotic of the group. You know the one. Runner that goes FUCKING CRAZY from time to time. Starts babbling about the Owls not being what they seem and the hills having eyes. His Eyes are Shut, His Arms are Open or whatever the fuck it was. Nice little runner clique all in all. Seemed to be here to meet up now that L(x)renzo got... Hammered. HAHAHA. Oh don't blame me, they used it too. I know because I have the Skype log right here in front of me.
[7/26/2013 12:31:51 AM] Jessie: Guess he got hammered, didn't he guys? ;D
See? Not my Pun. Anyway. So they decided to meet up for what amounts to a Picnic. Hammer thought it was a good screw you to Father. Killing his servant while eating in his back yard. Hehehe. I admire the spunk. So. Samedi drove Gleeman and Recluse by and grabbed the first one they could. Ames it turned out to be. Poor Miss Amy struggled something fierce I hear. Which is why we have an Ex-Luchador doing all of our restraining, just in case. Oh and they were RIGHT behind them too. So. Proxy Bob and I had the Piano just over the entrance and were waiting for the signal. People NEVER look up. NEVER. Especially when they are in a hurry. So the plan was to get Morpheus into where Gleeman and Recluse were and KILL Ames in front of him. The others... They would need to be lured away. In preparation for this, we had a ticking timer projected on the ceiling from where we were holding the girl. We weren't very generous with the time. 2:01 seconds from the moment they enter the factory parking lot.
So. Crouching Tiger was up first. He grabbed Hammer in his legendary Drunken-Bull-Seeing-Red Tackle and knocked him through a thin wall. But you gotta admire the balls of this guy. Despite being rammed through a wall by a six and a half foot, built like a killdozer Asian man, he STILL told the other two to go on and rescue Ames. Now I didn't see the fight between Tiger and Hammer, but Tiger told me that Hammer put up a noble effort, but was no match for the blinding fury of the Rabid-Stork Kicks he unleashed. I hear what finished Hammer was the Furious-Panther Death Grip. Bad way to die if you ask me.
Good old Jack and Darkhorse were up next. Jack popped out from behind a corner with his dagger and proceeded to do, and I quote, "Jack Things" according to Darkhorse. Darkhorse himself used his Katana to separate Morpheus from Jessie. Being slightly clever, I think Jessie figured out what we were doing, because she called for Morpheus to help her instead of going to for Ames. So Darkhorse forced Jessie into running a different way, while Jack chased Morpheus towards the Finish Line. Jessie survived a little while because she actually managed to get her gun out. Piss poor shot, but then again it was dark, and Darkhorse was wearing black. He fired back with his revolver and scored a hit, straight into her guts. I suppose all the training Darkhorse did with shooting in the dark worked. Still doesn't make up for that embarrassment a while back with that OTHER Jessie. No we are never going to live that down, my friend. You wore sunglasses at Night in a Hedge Maze and refused to take them off. Samedi had to escort your ass out. HAHAHA. This does not make up for it. Sorry.
Morpheus was finally chased into the center point. Recluse held Ames, while Gleeman and Jack kept Morpheus watching. Samedi did his Voodoo thing and jammed his dagger down the stupid bitch's throat. I am told Morpheus was begging us to stop the whole time and yelling for Hammer and Jessie. I regret not being able to hear that. So all that was left was the inevitable. Gleeman let Morpheus go and told him to get the fuck out. Morpheus just kind of sat there for a while until Jack started kicking him and he ran and ran. And when he made it out to where we were he just kinda slowed down and turned and stared. And that is when I yelled. "I BET YOU ARE FEELING ABSOLUTELY CRUSHED RIGHT NOW!" before dropping the Piano on him. I really had nothing better. I actually forgot I needed a one liner before I push the Piano until it was already time. Oops. Silly Me.
And Silly Morpheus because he did the absolute WORST thing he could have done in this situation. He tried to dive out of the way. Now let me ask you. Why is that a bad idea kiddies? I'll let that sink in for a while and get back on here later. Hope you put some thought into it. There will be a test later for many of you, I am sure. Toodaloo for now my friends.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Stomach on a Pike
Negotiations with the Maenads went... Better than I could have hoped. HAHAHAHA. Imagine it. A Group of Madmen dancing in the light of a Camp Fire, praising their pale, black eyed God. They are dressed all Primal and shit, trying to be close to their Primal God. Then I come in with my buddy Proxy Bob and we start dancing in the fire light with them, dressed like functional members of society. Well. Functional members of society with a MASK in Bob's Case. Hehehe. Took them a few minutes to figure out we were there. But when they did... Oh MAN the overreaction was priceless. Pulled out their knives, guns and Machetes. I especially liked the Machetes. Fairly dull as machetes go. Would probably take a few swings to properly kill someone. I actually kind of prefer those, because... You know when you swing your blade at a person's neck and it doesn't cut clean through? They get this REAL funny expression on their face, usually no screaming, but that EXPRESSION is just so funny looking. It's like a... Silent scream. Screaming with your eyes, you know? Much more subtle than an actual scream. I may not act like it, but I DO appreciate Subtle things like that.
Anyway. So the reason I went to go talk to the Maenads was because I have it on good authority that one of Redlight's current minions is an Ex-Maenad. I want to know about him. I want to know where he came from, how he got to where he is today and maybe even what his actual name is. Old Doc Marsh met him a while back at an Oathbreaker compound. Fucking idiots had no idea what they were getting into. He called himself the "Purple Piper."
So here we were, surrounded by violent drunken wannabe savages, without backup aside from each other, and almost without weapons. So I smiled at them and waved real big and introduced myself as Morningstar the Proxy. Then I introduced Proxy Bob. He didn't say anything. I told him that was rude, but he didn't make any apologies. He never does. Hehehehe. So the leader of this "Tribe" came out. A large Scotsman, with a thick bushy red beard. He called himself Dionysus. I told him sure he did, just like every other Maenad Chief out there without an ounce of creativity in their bodies. He jammed a spear in my stomach, and I played along. You know. Gasp, followed by shrugging my shoulders and hanging my head down. I could FEEL his smug smirk so hard that I grabbed the spear and started pulling myself closer to him through it, grabbing his head while he was too surprised to do anything. I looked up at him, smiled and licked his face. I think the others noticed the Azoth trail I left behind, so they backed the fuck off like Good Little Pawns.
I told Dionysus it was time for a little Q&A. I asked him if he knew about a Purple Piper and he didn't answer. Silly Me. I forgot what raw, active, hungry, Azoth does to a person when it gets on their skin. I wiped it off quickly. Don't think it will leave too much scarring, though he might want to wash it thoroughly before it gets infected. Then I had to wait for the shock to wear off. Took about five minutes, and during this time Proxy Bob helped me get the spear out of my gut. Bob's a Good Doctor like that.
Dionysus finally got chatty after that. Told me all about a kid, born in the tribe some 30 years ago named Francesco Porreca. The God of Gardening Tools over there took a special interest in the boy, and he grew up to be an excellent tool in The Rake's arsenal. Well. They say tool, I say Knight. Maybe Bishop. Certainly not a Rook, no matter what he himself thinks. Anyway. That much exposure to one of the Gods changes you after a while. LOOK AT ME! But Porreca the Piper seemed to be changed in less... Physiologically offensive ways. Though we do share an abnormal hunger. His is far less severe and requires a more specialized diet. Air from the lungs of living people. Don't ask me how, or why. I would need to be a scientist AND have him on a table to dissect in order to give anything resembling a reason.
Not entirely sure where his Purple Piper identity came from. Dionysus said it was a title given by "God," but by that point Porreca's God was no longer The Rake. Still. Information is information, no matter how useless it seems now. No living family and all his friends have passed on. The Bad news is, my discussion ends there. Proxy Bob tapped me on the shoulder and I noticed a hole was opening up into thicker, darker woods than the ones we were standing in. I saw something crawling on the ground closer. A Pale thing with wormy skin and little tufts of dirty hair on it's head. But what really stood out were it's eyes. Big and black. Bulbous things. Felt drowsy just looking at them. And I heard it's song. Something you never forget once you hear it. Just this sweet little sounds that it makes, before it cradles you head in those hands with scythes for nails. You hear stories. It sings it's little lullaby as it drains you dry. You think I can make a mess with my meals? You ain't seen NOTHING compared to what The Rake does to it's victims. Don't even want to imagine what it would do to me if it caught me, and I sure as SHIT noticed that those long, lean arms pulling it forward had those giant ass claws on them. I couldn't tell how bloodstained, but I did NOT stick around to find out.
Hopped in the Path with Proxy Bob and let it carry us home. Well. Carry me home. Ever used the Path? It has different effects on different people, but 9 times out of 10 it hurts. Sometimes all that comes out the other side are bones and scraps of meat torn to shreds by things I don't even want to imagine. Proxy Bob came out with a dislocated shoulder, leg and minor bleeding from his mouth, nose, ears and eyes. Lucky Devil. Hehehehe. For me? It was like... Floating down a river of this Warm, Comforting water. Familiar even. Only it's not a river, it's a Path and Forest. And... Just don't open your eyes on the ride. If you bump into something assume it's a rock or dead body. I opened my eyes for a peek once and trust me. Not a Good idea. That water was Black and very, very alive.
SO here we are all safe and sound back at base. Gleeman and Tiger are taking care of Proxy Bob and I am posting to you all. Because I love you all. I really do. You bring me SO much joy. And I want you to know that... So Tasty.
But this means we have info on one of the unknowns in Redlight's Organization. They are all using Weird Titles like "Purple Piper" and "Pattern Juggler." They all seem to be Ex-Cultists. Purple Piper is an Ex-Maenad, Pattern Juggler is an Ex-Proxy, The Wiseman is an Ex-Scribe and The Gardener is an Ex-Timberwolf. Heh. Timberwolf. Not even an actual Apostle. Their Crimson King must have been scraping at the bottom of the barrel. AIN'T THAT RIGHT MORGY-POO <3 COMMENT SOMETIMES BUDDY, I MISS YOU.
Hehehehe Ah... More on the other Known Minions later kiddos. I have things to do. Cheers everyone. Heh.
Anyway. So the reason I went to go talk to the Maenads was because I have it on good authority that one of Redlight's current minions is an Ex-Maenad. I want to know about him. I want to know where he came from, how he got to where he is today and maybe even what his actual name is. Old Doc Marsh met him a while back at an Oathbreaker compound. Fucking idiots had no idea what they were getting into. He called himself the "Purple Piper."
So here we were, surrounded by violent drunken wannabe savages, without backup aside from each other, and almost without weapons. So I smiled at them and waved real big and introduced myself as Morningstar the Proxy. Then I introduced Proxy Bob. He didn't say anything. I told him that was rude, but he didn't make any apologies. He never does. Hehehehe. So the leader of this "Tribe" came out. A large Scotsman, with a thick bushy red beard. He called himself Dionysus. I told him sure he did, just like every other Maenad Chief out there without an ounce of creativity in their bodies. He jammed a spear in my stomach, and I played along. You know. Gasp, followed by shrugging my shoulders and hanging my head down. I could FEEL his smug smirk so hard that I grabbed the spear and started pulling myself closer to him through it, grabbing his head while he was too surprised to do anything. I looked up at him, smiled and licked his face. I think the others noticed the Azoth trail I left behind, so they backed the fuck off like Good Little Pawns.
I told Dionysus it was time for a little Q&A. I asked him if he knew about a Purple Piper and he didn't answer. Silly Me. I forgot what raw, active, hungry, Azoth does to a person when it gets on their skin. I wiped it off quickly. Don't think it will leave too much scarring, though he might want to wash it thoroughly before it gets infected. Then I had to wait for the shock to wear off. Took about five minutes, and during this time Proxy Bob helped me get the spear out of my gut. Bob's a Good Doctor like that.
Dionysus finally got chatty after that. Told me all about a kid, born in the tribe some 30 years ago named Francesco Porreca. The God of Gardening Tools over there took a special interest in the boy, and he grew up to be an excellent tool in The Rake's arsenal. Well. They say tool, I say Knight. Maybe Bishop. Certainly not a Rook, no matter what he himself thinks. Anyway. That much exposure to one of the Gods changes you after a while. LOOK AT ME! But Porreca the Piper seemed to be changed in less... Physiologically offensive ways. Though we do share an abnormal hunger. His is far less severe and requires a more specialized diet. Air from the lungs of living people. Don't ask me how, or why. I would need to be a scientist AND have him on a table to dissect in order to give anything resembling a reason.
Not entirely sure where his Purple Piper identity came from. Dionysus said it was a title given by "God," but by that point Porreca's God was no longer The Rake. Still. Information is information, no matter how useless it seems now. No living family and all his friends have passed on. The Bad news is, my discussion ends there. Proxy Bob tapped me on the shoulder and I noticed a hole was opening up into thicker, darker woods than the ones we were standing in. I saw something crawling on the ground closer. A Pale thing with wormy skin and little tufts of dirty hair on it's head. But what really stood out were it's eyes. Big and black. Bulbous things. Felt drowsy just looking at them. And I heard it's song. Something you never forget once you hear it. Just this sweet little sounds that it makes, before it cradles you head in those hands with scythes for nails. You hear stories. It sings it's little lullaby as it drains you dry. You think I can make a mess with my meals? You ain't seen NOTHING compared to what The Rake does to it's victims. Don't even want to imagine what it would do to me if it caught me, and I sure as SHIT noticed that those long, lean arms pulling it forward had those giant ass claws on them. I couldn't tell how bloodstained, but I did NOT stick around to find out.
Hopped in the Path with Proxy Bob and let it carry us home. Well. Carry me home. Ever used the Path? It has different effects on different people, but 9 times out of 10 it hurts. Sometimes all that comes out the other side are bones and scraps of meat torn to shreds by things I don't even want to imagine. Proxy Bob came out with a dislocated shoulder, leg and minor bleeding from his mouth, nose, ears and eyes. Lucky Devil. Hehehehe. For me? It was like... Floating down a river of this Warm, Comforting water. Familiar even. Only it's not a river, it's a Path and Forest. And... Just don't open your eyes on the ride. If you bump into something assume it's a rock or dead body. I opened my eyes for a peek once and trust me. Not a Good idea. That water was Black and very, very alive.
SO here we are all safe and sound back at base. Gleeman and Tiger are taking care of Proxy Bob and I am posting to you all. Because I love you all. I really do. You bring me SO much joy. And I want you to know that... So Tasty.
But this means we have info on one of the unknowns in Redlight's Organization. They are all using Weird Titles like "Purple Piper" and "Pattern Juggler." They all seem to be Ex-Cultists. Purple Piper is an Ex-Maenad, Pattern Juggler is an Ex-Proxy, The Wiseman is an Ex-Scribe and The Gardener is an Ex-Timberwolf. Heh. Timberwolf. Not even an actual Apostle. Their Crimson King must have been scraping at the bottom of the barrel. AIN'T THAT RIGHT MORGY-POO <3 COMMENT SOMETIMES BUDDY, I MISS YOU.
Hehehehe Ah... More on the other Known Minions later kiddos. I have things to do. Cheers everyone. Heh.
Monday, July 29, 2013
Now
So, now that the recap is done and over with. You all know who I am and what I have done. Can't stand confusion about me. Absolutely pisses me off. I am after all an open book. What you see is what you get... Although what you see tends to be covered in blood and stray organs most of the time, and what you get, tends to be either something heavy and comedic crushing your skull, a knife to the throat and or a LONG session in my Room of Sunshine, Rainbows and Kittens.
Speaking of Kittens, Lets have a chat about the old Proxy Organization. Now, I used to be wedged straight into that hell of Paper Work and reports and blah, blah blah. Then Redlight's Morningstar (Morninglight? Redstar?) came and killed off majority of the Higher ups and caused a MASSIVE split in the organization. Now it is... Fractured. Hehehehehe.
The Organization's Fragments are lead by such individuals as Lord Guardian Cuddles the Kitten, Fracture to his friends. Of course he doesn't control ALL of the Organization. Again, it was split up into a a dozen or so smaller Factions who are in something of an alliance with each other. This is Good. We don't need Higher ups issuing COMMANDS like they are our actual bosses. They hand out weapons, keep us out of prison, and apparently hold contests for Fabulous Prizes, if Lord Guardian Cuddles is any indication. Now, I bring this up because I want everyone to know... If any of you, half baked Cult Leaders, would be Tinpot Dictators, or Washed up Army Men DARE to try and give me orders, I will KILL you and your friends and your close allies. It will repeat performance of Morninglight/Redstar's massacre. Just on a smaller scale, and I can't die. Comprende? That includes you Author. You are not above this.
So as the comments in the last post so CLEVERLY figured out from the SUBTLE hints being thrown around everywhere from old Doc Marsh's Blog to Miss Annalee's blog... We have a major problem with ANOTHER less pleasant old friend coming back from the land of the dead. Now I know what you are thinking. "Oh Morningstar, you sort of came back once already and you were put down. We can do the same to Redlight, can't we?" Well my unrealistically optimistic and destined to be brainwashed by a megalomaniac with delusions of Godhood Friend. No. No you can't. See, here is the problem. I keep coming back due to an outside source. Redlight himself, now the Attendants. Redlight however is coming back through his own Power and Backup Plans.
Without going into DETAILS... End of the World if he accomplishes what he is trying to do. So you want to be rooting for MY side this time kiddies. And if you see Proxies wearing a lot of Red, tell me. Tell ANY Non-Red wearing Proxy. Official Proxy dress code for now people. NO RED. If I see ANY of you wearing Red, I will assume the worst. You all should KNOW how he likes to mark people his.
Also. NO ONE BUG ME ABOUT "Oh Morningstar, please help! Arkady/Incognito/Miss Annalee/Whoever is killing all our dudes. Please get your immortal ass over here and SAVE US." It is not my problem. Sort it out yourselves, I am busy with more important things like tormenting people and looking for Redlight and Redlight related Activities. Unless you have a VERY Good Reason for me to come anywhere near you, do NOT ask.
On a related note. Crimson Knights. If you don't know what they, are... Good. If you do... Watch them VERY closely, because something terrible is on the horizon.
Tomorrow I get to play meet and greet with a group of Maenads who SHOULD be able to provide information on one of Redlight's new BFFs. I don't expect there to be... Too much Bloodshed. Hehehehe. But one can hope.
Speaking of Kittens, Lets have a chat about the old Proxy Organization. Now, I used to be wedged straight into that hell of Paper Work and reports and blah, blah blah. Then Redlight's Morningstar (Morninglight? Redstar?) came and killed off majority of the Higher ups and caused a MASSIVE split in the organization. Now it is... Fractured. Hehehehehe.
The Organization's Fragments are lead by such individuals as Lord Guardian Cuddles the Kitten, Fracture to his friends. Of course he doesn't control ALL of the Organization. Again, it was split up into a a dozen or so smaller Factions who are in something of an alliance with each other. This is Good. We don't need Higher ups issuing COMMANDS like they are our actual bosses. They hand out weapons, keep us out of prison, and apparently hold contests for Fabulous Prizes, if Lord Guardian Cuddles is any indication. Now, I bring this up because I want everyone to know... If any of you, half baked Cult Leaders, would be Tinpot Dictators, or Washed up Army Men DARE to try and give me orders, I will KILL you and your friends and your close allies. It will repeat performance of Morninglight/Redstar's massacre. Just on a smaller scale, and I can't die. Comprende? That includes you Author. You are not above this.
So as the comments in the last post so CLEVERLY figured out from the SUBTLE hints being thrown around everywhere from old Doc Marsh's Blog to Miss Annalee's blog... We have a major problem with ANOTHER less pleasant old friend coming back from the land of the dead. Now I know what you are thinking. "Oh Morningstar, you sort of came back once already and you were put down. We can do the same to Redlight, can't we?" Well my unrealistically optimistic and destined to be brainwashed by a megalomaniac with delusions of Godhood Friend. No. No you can't. See, here is the problem. I keep coming back due to an outside source. Redlight himself, now the Attendants. Redlight however is coming back through his own Power and Backup Plans.
Without going into DETAILS... End of the World if he accomplishes what he is trying to do. So you want to be rooting for MY side this time kiddies. And if you see Proxies wearing a lot of Red, tell me. Tell ANY Non-Red wearing Proxy. Official Proxy dress code for now people. NO RED. If I see ANY of you wearing Red, I will assume the worst. You all should KNOW how he likes to mark people his.
Also. NO ONE BUG ME ABOUT "Oh Morningstar, please help! Arkady/Incognito/Miss Annalee/Whoever is killing all our dudes. Please get your immortal ass over here and SAVE US." It is not my problem. Sort it out yourselves, I am busy with more important things like tormenting people and looking for Redlight and Redlight related Activities. Unless you have a VERY Good Reason for me to come anywhere near you, do NOT ask.
On a related note. Crimson Knights. If you don't know what they, are... Good. If you do... Watch them VERY closely, because something terrible is on the horizon.
Tomorrow I get to play meet and greet with a group of Maenads who SHOULD be able to provide information on one of Redlight's new BFFs. I don't expect there to be... Too much Bloodshed. Hehehehe. But one can hope.
Sunday, July 28, 2013
Clearing up Confusion
I know. You are confused. Some of you have know I have been back for a little while now. Ol' Doc Marsh knew the longest. So let me formally introduce myself to this new generation of Prey. I am Morningstar. Proxy since early March, 2011. I am native of the good old United States of America, specifically North Carolina. Mom and Dad moved there before I was born. My parents were very evil people. Extremely cruel, and if I do say so myself, quite insane. The evidence is in my birth name. Luke Cyphre. You get it? I got it. Mommy and Daddy were convinced I was the Goddamn Anti-Christ. From the moment I was born. Ta da. Self-Fulfilling Prophecy, if you ask me. Of course, it wasn't just them. The neighbors turned a blind eye to the numerous ATROCITIES in our household. Quite typical of people if you ask me. Maybe they assumed someone else would call. Probably they just didn't think it was their problem. Hmm. Everyone is like that you know. Deep down. Sure, you have one or two "Heroes" in the world. That do give a crap. Sometimes. Once in a Blue Moon. Deep down though, you are all the same. I have seen it, I have felt it. I have the scars to prove it... Hehehehe.
So imagine this going on for years. Well over a decade. I don't know why they didn't just drown me in a bathtub or something. They fed me enough to get by. Watered me. In hindsight it was weird, very inconsistent. But that's people right? Random, violent with random spurts of kindness, utterly unpredictable. Had a brother too. But he's dead now, and we won't be discussing him ever. Part of me wonders now, if Mom and Dad made Him just to hurt me more. Cause then I saw first hand how Parents should treat a kid. Because, in their insanity, they didn't think he was the anti-christ. So I made my first kill when I was 16. My second kill and third kill was Mommy and Daddy, back in February of 2011. Amateur work though. I had no idea what I was doing. It felt good though, you have NO IDEA. Just with every STAB and CUT AND TEAR, all the years of FEAR and ANGER, SO MUCH ANGER Just came FLOWING OUT IN A TORRENT OF RED. But you know what? They deserved SO MUCH WORSE. So you know what I did? I ate them. I ate every last bloody chunk from both. I was sick for WEEKS, but I read that some people thought that by devouring a person, you devour their soul. They would do it for loved ones, but Me? I would eat them, eat their soul and they would SUFFER for eternity in my gullet. And I would take all their hate and all their MADNESS and turn it against EVERYONE ELSE. Because deeps down, you are all the same.
So shortly before that, I got a letter. Never found out from who. It linked me to a video. It was put on Youtube mere minutes before I watched it, and it was gone just after I finished. Do you want to guess what was in it? Father. My true father. Slender Man. "Dumah." Hehehehe. So I did as he instructed. I made my blog and SURE ENOUGH. The Proxies heard me and I was saved. I became one of them, I became a tool to be wielded by Father to strike down humans everywhere. I was placed in... Let's call it a class, with a bunch of would be Proxies. We were being taught by a proxy known, at that point, as Gauntlet. That was a stupid name. It was so boring. So Generic. It lacked that special something. So I called Gauntlet, Nightscream. And I learned the art of killing like a pro. Experience is of course the best teacher. Met a lot of fun people back in the day. Would have liked to kill them.
One notable case involved me being shipped off to fucking CANADA of all places. Was told to ruin the life of some bitch named Mitch. Killed her whole fucking family and burned her little farm to the ground. This becomes important later. So anyway, I also met a runner whose name is... Probably well known. A dumbass bitch named Elaine... Although who is the bigger dumbass, the dumbass or the person who followed her. I did something stupid. I did something so stupid. And I paid the price. Went completely insane. Howling at the moon, not bathing, eating raw meat and wandering around like a lost, rabid dog. But the final punishment for my stupidity... Well. Guess who found me. Good Old Mishy. Michelle, Mitch, Michelle, Michelle, Shelly, Shell... So she had me put back together so she could get revenge, and I fell off a large factory into a fire. And I burned, and I burned until there was nothing left but charred meat and blackened bones. That was the first time I died.
Weird stuff happened after that. See, I became kind of iconic, it seems, within the Proxy Organization. Redlight even liked me, and so did... The Attendants. To get "Morningstar" back, the Organization handed the title down to some Psycho Cult Town Kid. He botched it up within a month or two. Then the Second Redlight, good old Spencer, gave it a try. See, Original Redlight had this ability to sort of uh... Register people into his Network. Gave him bodies to hop into if need be. Original Flavor Redlight met me in person once, and because he was a tricky, sneaky, son of a bitch, he registered me without me even knowing. So when I died, my memories and personality were still in his Network. So, when Spencer got the reins, it was a simple matter to take a Hallowed, and shove my memories and personality into that empty husk. I hear he did this a couple times, actually. The First couple Beta Morningstars were still going through my dumbass stage, where I followed Elaine. So they were... Unreliable. Eventually Big Red got one that worked.
Let me make this clear. I have no fucking clue what he did. I don't have HIS memories. HE wasn't ME. He was some Hallowed with Fake Memories. Which leads to my... Current state. See. The Attendants or rather, one of them, wanted their own Morningstar. So here I am. As for the other guy, one of the Attendants ensured he didn't survive a little... Lesson in humility given to the Organization as a whole. I hear good old Dr. Fracture has been leading the remnants. Good on him. Good luck to him too. See. I don't work for the Organization. I work for Father and his Attendants. His Angels. The Organization is a bit too self serving for my tastes and... Honestly... Their actions against Screamer pissed me right the fuck off. Hehe.
SO. TL;DR I am BACK to kill EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU AND ENJOY EVERY SECOND OF YOUR PROLONGED, TORTUROUS DEATHS! It's going to be SO Amazingly fun. Ladies and Gentlemen, boy and girls. Lock your doors, bolt your windows, hide under your beds and in your closets. Cling tight to your warm fluffy covers, because I am coming for you all. Nothing and no one is going to stop me, you cannot run and you cannot hide. All you can do is fight in vain, against someone FAR beyond human. My friends...
You are all going to Die.
Friday, July 26, 2013
Living Death
Darkness. Endless Darkness. I saw nothing. I felt nothing. I heard nothing. I screamed, but no noise came out. I was nothing. But then I felt it... I felt it aching inside, gnawing at me. It wouldn't stop. The Hunger. The Unending, the excruciating hunger. That's when I felt it. Scurrying around inside me, above me. Furry little feet scampering around, it's tiny little brain unaware of the part it would play. Of the miracle it would take part in. Tiny little splashes. I was so hungry. I felt myself grip it tight and draw it into myself. I heard it SCREAM in agony as it's flesh, it's bone and it's blood fed me and flowed through me, giving me strength.
But it wasn't enough. I tried moving, but nothing happened. I was still in the darkness, I was still nothing. All that changed when that man came in. I wonder what he looked like... I felt the vibrations of his footsteps. Like earthquakes. I felt myself shifting as he grew near and my hunger began clawing at my mind yet again. I felt a touch, but it wasn't meat. I hated it. It tasted FOUL. It was cold and tough. But I was SO HUNGRY. Instinct took command and I felt myself moving up and over, until I felt warm flesh. I began chewing and swallowing as much and as fast as I could. Warm, bloody chunks. Marrow dripping from cracked bones, flesh so tender and juicy.
With each bite I felt strength flowing into me. Ah... I could see, I could hear the sounds of my own slurping and chewing. I could see the red flowing from the open chest. But everything was still so black, and as I reached my hand into the darkness, I saw it. I saw that I WAS the darkness. My hand was black and flowing. For a moment. For just a moment. The Hunger stopped and I looked on with... Uncharacteristic horror at myself. All black and flowing. I was everywhere. I was even inside the body, pieces of me chewing and sucking dry the body. But as quickly as my terror came, it passed underneath that hunger. I ripped into the body with even greater zeal until nothing but the empty clothes remained. I lapped up every last drop of blood. But it wasn't enough. I wasn't satisfied. I was still hungry. I needed more. I had to have more.
I reached out a hand and dragged myself along the ground like a worm. Slithering towards the door. I saw something attached to the door. A room, filled with crates and empty clothes. But closest to me was a mass of writhing black sludge, with half a blackened human skeleton staring at me. Wet, bony hand outstretched as if dragging itself towards me. And as I stared into those empty sockets of that grinning skull, I realized something. It was Me. I was it. And I laughed, I could hear it. Less a laugh than a terrible gurgling, but I didn't care. I laughed and laughed and laughed. Because it was funny. It was so funny. My laughter brought the attention of another worker and he screamed and I laughed more. And the hunger, the terrible hunger pulled me forward with such speed. And as I chewed and I crunched up bone and organs I felt myself taking shape.
Every vein I drained was a vein in me. Meat took shape on black bone. I felt so strong now. I stood, tall and laughing over the empty clothes and I turned to see the myself once more. Large chunks of raw black flesh, oozing liquids, with small patches of bone visible. Eyes took shape and I saw them peering out from malformed sockets. Yellow. Piercing Yellow. Burning Yellow. Those Yellow eyes became the last thing 64 more workers saw before they died. The only thing left behind were the empty, spotless clothes. Each time one vanished, I returned to myself and gazed into it. Each time my shape returned to me, first the colorless skin, then oily blackened hair. Many times I returned and saw no color on me but the yellow eyes which marked me. And the hunger kept me going back for more to finish it, to finish myself. With the final meal I saw myself. Full Flesh, my skin an ivory hue, bright blue eyes and light blonde hair. I was unmistakable. I had a name. I had history. I had new life.
I was a murderer, I was a servant of my God, I was the butcher of men, the devourer of children... I was Morningstar. And I am still so very hungry.
But it wasn't enough. I tried moving, but nothing happened. I was still in the darkness, I was still nothing. All that changed when that man came in. I wonder what he looked like... I felt the vibrations of his footsteps. Like earthquakes. I felt myself shifting as he grew near and my hunger began clawing at my mind yet again. I felt a touch, but it wasn't meat. I hated it. It tasted FOUL. It was cold and tough. But I was SO HUNGRY. Instinct took command and I felt myself moving up and over, until I felt warm flesh. I began chewing and swallowing as much and as fast as I could. Warm, bloody chunks. Marrow dripping from cracked bones, flesh so tender and juicy.
With each bite I felt strength flowing into me. Ah... I could see, I could hear the sounds of my own slurping and chewing. I could see the red flowing from the open chest. But everything was still so black, and as I reached my hand into the darkness, I saw it. I saw that I WAS the darkness. My hand was black and flowing. For a moment. For just a moment. The Hunger stopped and I looked on with... Uncharacteristic horror at myself. All black and flowing. I was everywhere. I was even inside the body, pieces of me chewing and sucking dry the body. But as quickly as my terror came, it passed underneath that hunger. I ripped into the body with even greater zeal until nothing but the empty clothes remained. I lapped up every last drop of blood. But it wasn't enough. I wasn't satisfied. I was still hungry. I needed more. I had to have more.
I reached out a hand and dragged myself along the ground like a worm. Slithering towards the door. I saw something attached to the door. A room, filled with crates and empty clothes. But closest to me was a mass of writhing black sludge, with half a blackened human skeleton staring at me. Wet, bony hand outstretched as if dragging itself towards me. And as I stared into those empty sockets of that grinning skull, I realized something. It was Me. I was it. And I laughed, I could hear it. Less a laugh than a terrible gurgling, but I didn't care. I laughed and laughed and laughed. Because it was funny. It was so funny. My laughter brought the attention of another worker and he screamed and I laughed more. And the hunger, the terrible hunger pulled me forward with such speed. And as I chewed and I crunched up bone and organs I felt myself taking shape.
Every vein I drained was a vein in me. Meat took shape on black bone. I felt so strong now. I stood, tall and laughing over the empty clothes and I turned to see the myself once more. Large chunks of raw black flesh, oozing liquids, with small patches of bone visible. Eyes took shape and I saw them peering out from malformed sockets. Yellow. Piercing Yellow. Burning Yellow. Those Yellow eyes became the last thing 64 more workers saw before they died. The only thing left behind were the empty, spotless clothes. Each time one vanished, I returned to myself and gazed into it. Each time my shape returned to me, first the colorless skin, then oily blackened hair. Many times I returned and saw no color on me but the yellow eyes which marked me. And the hunger kept me going back for more to finish it, to finish myself. With the final meal I saw myself. Full Flesh, my skin an ivory hue, bright blue eyes and light blonde hair. I was unmistakable. I had a name. I had history. I had new life.
I was a murderer, I was a servant of my God, I was the butcher of men, the devourer of children... I was Morningstar. And I am still so very hungry.
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