A laptop, asleep and on his blog, on the latest entry, a bloody makeshift sack containing a few food items, and a knife. The assortment was hidden under a tarp with the symbol of my associates tagged on it. He left it here for me to find, and I hate him for it.
I don't know how much he knew, but it's evident that he knew a lot more than I wanted him to. So now that he's dead, I guess I can take a little relief in the knowledge that whatever he knew is safe from prying eyes.
I'm still pissed at him, though. And I think a side trip is perhaps in order. I have two weeks before my next job begins, so maybe I should get warmed up.
This is your only warning.
- Have a Nice Day
Friday, August 17, 2012
Epiphany
I've been thinking a lot as I've been running. Mostly about the things chasing me, but also about some other stuff that's been bothering me.
First off, there's the Choir. They've been with me since before this mess started, and they have only gotten louder since appearing. I started thinking about what they want, and I think I know what that is. I think they want me to kill myself. I thought earlier that they just wanted me to die, but they can just do that on their own, blow out my eardrums, scramble my brain, and leave me dying in a random alleyway. But no, for some reason they want me to do the job myself. As if they get something out of it. I know what happens to the voices of those they take, but if that's what they want, they could have taken it months ago by force. There has to be something else, something I'm not seeing, or something I'm not supposed to see, but it's not something I want to part with, especially not at the cost of taking my life for their amusement.
Then there's CRITIC. It simply wants me to burn for my sins, like the god of old. It wants me to face my crimes and pay for them with body, blood, soul, and being. But I wonder how much I can even do that. The Choir has such a grip on my mind that I don't think my sanity is mine to control anymore. I remember what I did to that child, I remember every detail, and I know what I did was wrong, but I cannot make myself regret what I did. CRITIC may make me burn, but it can't make me regret these crimes, and I think it knows that. I think it knows that nobody can truly regret their actions, and so all it can ever offer is eternal hellfire. And unlike the Choir, it has no qualms with taking what it wants by force. It is the Devil incarnate, and I will never let myself give into the Devil.
FERMATA chases me for what I've become. I haven't known a friendly touch in many months, my last contact with humanity hung herself at the behest of my demons, and so I am left all alone. Too scared to ask for help lest I drive more people into the clutches of Hell, and too far gone to even want help. The man who seeks my help will either fall by his own hand or will force mine own against him. And since I refuse to aid the devils that way, this devil completes the Catch 22 sealing my doom. He'll catch me before too long, I know that. He's faster than me and can travel farther than me, and as soon as he bores of this chase he will strike like any other predator.
This is the situation I believe myself to be in. And if that was it, then I would be completely and utterly defeated. Luckily for me, that isn't entirely the case. I still have one more option, one more chance for a safe haven, one that I've only recently discovered the merits of.
So I believe this shall be my last post here. I'm going to deny all my aggressors what they desire and end this stupid hunt once and for all. And I'd advise you all to do the same.
Embrace the Archangel.
First off, there's the Choir. They've been with me since before this mess started, and they have only gotten louder since appearing. I started thinking about what they want, and I think I know what that is. I think they want me to kill myself. I thought earlier that they just wanted me to die, but they can just do that on their own, blow out my eardrums, scramble my brain, and leave me dying in a random alleyway. But no, for some reason they want me to do the job myself. As if they get something out of it. I know what happens to the voices of those they take, but if that's what they want, they could have taken it months ago by force. There has to be something else, something I'm not seeing, or something I'm not supposed to see, but it's not something I want to part with, especially not at the cost of taking my life for their amusement.
Then there's CRITIC. It simply wants me to burn for my sins, like the god of old. It wants me to face my crimes and pay for them with body, blood, soul, and being. But I wonder how much I can even do that. The Choir has such a grip on my mind that I don't think my sanity is mine to control anymore. I remember what I did to that child, I remember every detail, and I know what I did was wrong, but I cannot make myself regret what I did. CRITIC may make me burn, but it can't make me regret these crimes, and I think it knows that. I think it knows that nobody can truly regret their actions, and so all it can ever offer is eternal hellfire. And unlike the Choir, it has no qualms with taking what it wants by force. It is the Devil incarnate, and I will never let myself give into the Devil.
FERMATA chases me for what I've become. I haven't known a friendly touch in many months, my last contact with humanity hung herself at the behest of my demons, and so I am left all alone. Too scared to ask for help lest I drive more people into the clutches of Hell, and too far gone to even want help. The man who seeks my help will either fall by his own hand or will force mine own against him. And since I refuse to aid the devils that way, this devil completes the Catch 22 sealing my doom. He'll catch me before too long, I know that. He's faster than me and can travel farther than me, and as soon as he bores of this chase he will strike like any other predator.
This is the situation I believe myself to be in. And if that was it, then I would be completely and utterly defeated. Luckily for me, that isn't entirely the case. I still have one more option, one more chance for a safe haven, one that I've only recently discovered the merits of.
So I believe this shall be my last post here. I'm going to deny all my aggressors what they desire and end this stupid hunt once and for all. And I'd advise you all to do the same.
Embrace the Archangel.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Judgement
I hid, as stupid and useless as the idea might seem. I hid and waited. I could only see what was in front of me, whether it was real or not was something I had to decide for myself. I tried to use the sense of paranoia to tell how close Judgement was, until eventually he appeared in my little box of vision.
He knew where I was, of course, but I also knew where HE was. I'd like to say I was prepared for him, but that would be a bit of a lie. I remember reading about what happens to the people CRITIC possesses, and for the most part, that's what I got. The little neighbor kid had hair and skin singed and falling off in places, but what made me cringe was the state his face was in. His eyes had fallen out, or maybe he plucked them out, but either way when he appeared I found myself looking into two holes, empty yet full of hellfire. I could see the depths of my sins, past and future, and I could see how much I would pay as Judgement is passed on my arrested soul, after CRITIC frees it from my body.
Of course, that didn't happen. The visions made me hesitate, I admit, but I've heard many times before about the torture to come, no matter what I do, no matter who I fall to. The Alighierian torment of FERMATA, the fires of Judgement, the eternal servitude of the Lord of the Dead. The Choir lovingly explained how there was no hope for safety, not for me, and not for anybody. Seeing it from Judgement was only so much worse than hearing it in detail and imagining the rest.
So I'd like to think that Judgement was surprised when I attacked him with a large shard of glass. He may be an unknowable eldritch being, but he was inhabiting a human body. And human bodies break rather easily. I managed to stick the glass in one of his shoulders before making an attempt at his knife. However, despite being human, Judgement still isn't quite normal, as evident from the lack of blood that should have been pouring from his shoulder, and he had one hell of a grip. I wasn't able to get the knife then, and nor was I able to prevent being stabbed and thrown at a wall. As he was walking towards me, the wound in his arm glowing with the internal fire eating him away, the light making the shard of glass glow a reddish yellow, I kicked out wildly, catching the glass with the sole of my foot and pushing it all the way into his arm.
Apparently that was all his shoulder could take, as his arm fell off, knife and all. Judgement stumbled backwards, and paused just long enough for me to wrench the knife from the dead grip of his severed arm. I took no chances this time, and slashed the neck of the boy-demon. It was a deep, but bloodless wound, so I thrust forward again and again, until the thing fell on its back. One last plunge, and I severed the head from the beast, its eyes closed and the stump covered in charred flesh and blood.
I briefly wondered if Judgement was dead, but decided that it was better to be sure. I severed both legs and the remaining arm from the corpse, so that there was no possible way the body could be used again. And just to ensure inactivity beyond a shadow of a doubt, I cut into its chest and removed the heart from the body. I looked down on the bloody remains of Judgement, and finally felt that I had scored a point against these things.
The arms I left there, in the dim alleyway where a man stood against Judgement and survived. The legs I carried to the center of the city, where I buried them in an inconspicuous dumpster behind some sort of shop or restaurant. I pondered over the chest cavity for a while, wondering how something so small could cause me so much trouble, so in the end it went in the trash of a toy store somewhere on the north end of town. I walked the head down to the creek near the park, where I used to play as a child, and threw the head in the waters, to lay the boy to rest with my brother. Even though I know that child will know nothing close to rest now. The Choir had an interesting idea for the heart I still had, and as disgusted by it as I was, I couldn't think of a place to put it, so I just went with their plan.
I hold no fantasies about being free from CRITIC's glare. In fact I'm sure that it's only a matter of time before Judgement returns, this time in a body less prone to breaking, and with one more sin on his tongue to attack me for. And I can feel the untimely chills that herald FERMATA's appearance. He will not be pleased, either. The Choir screams these facts even louder now, assuring me that their Hell is the one I should assign myself to. And then there's the distant, wordless pull of the REQUIEM. I feel him now more than I see him, and more strongly than I've ever felt him before. His presence is the fear of death itself, and as I finally have exhausted every sane plan and route of action, he is making himself known.
All I can do now is run, and hope that in running, I extend what life I have left. Whatever game they're playing with me is over now. The Fears are finally out to kill me.
He knew where I was, of course, but I also knew where HE was. I'd like to say I was prepared for him, but that would be a bit of a lie. I remember reading about what happens to the people CRITIC possesses, and for the most part, that's what I got. The little neighbor kid had hair and skin singed and falling off in places, but what made me cringe was the state his face was in. His eyes had fallen out, or maybe he plucked them out, but either way when he appeared I found myself looking into two holes, empty yet full of hellfire. I could see the depths of my sins, past and future, and I could see how much I would pay as Judgement is passed on my arrested soul, after CRITIC frees it from my body.
Of course, that didn't happen. The visions made me hesitate, I admit, but I've heard many times before about the torture to come, no matter what I do, no matter who I fall to. The Alighierian torment of FERMATA, the fires of Judgement, the eternal servitude of the Lord of the Dead. The Choir lovingly explained how there was no hope for safety, not for me, and not for anybody. Seeing it from Judgement was only so much worse than hearing it in detail and imagining the rest.
So I'd like to think that Judgement was surprised when I attacked him with a large shard of glass. He may be an unknowable eldritch being, but he was inhabiting a human body. And human bodies break rather easily. I managed to stick the glass in one of his shoulders before making an attempt at his knife. However, despite being human, Judgement still isn't quite normal, as evident from the lack of blood that should have been pouring from his shoulder, and he had one hell of a grip. I wasn't able to get the knife then, and nor was I able to prevent being stabbed and thrown at a wall. As he was walking towards me, the wound in his arm glowing with the internal fire eating him away, the light making the shard of glass glow a reddish yellow, I kicked out wildly, catching the glass with the sole of my foot and pushing it all the way into his arm.
Apparently that was all his shoulder could take, as his arm fell off, knife and all. Judgement stumbled backwards, and paused just long enough for me to wrench the knife from the dead grip of his severed arm. I took no chances this time, and slashed the neck of the boy-demon. It was a deep, but bloodless wound, so I thrust forward again and again, until the thing fell on its back. One last plunge, and I severed the head from the beast, its eyes closed and the stump covered in charred flesh and blood.
I briefly wondered if Judgement was dead, but decided that it was better to be sure. I severed both legs and the remaining arm from the corpse, so that there was no possible way the body could be used again. And just to ensure inactivity beyond a shadow of a doubt, I cut into its chest and removed the heart from the body. I looked down on the bloody remains of Judgement, and finally felt that I had scored a point against these things.
The arms I left there, in the dim alleyway where a man stood against Judgement and survived. The legs I carried to the center of the city, where I buried them in an inconspicuous dumpster behind some sort of shop or restaurant. I pondered over the chest cavity for a while, wondering how something so small could cause me so much trouble, so in the end it went in the trash of a toy store somewhere on the north end of town. I walked the head down to the creek near the park, where I used to play as a child, and threw the head in the waters, to lay the boy to rest with my brother. Even though I know that child will know nothing close to rest now. The Choir had an interesting idea for the heart I still had, and as disgusted by it as I was, I couldn't think of a place to put it, so I just went with their plan.
I hold no fantasies about being free from CRITIC's glare. In fact I'm sure that it's only a matter of time before Judgement returns, this time in a body less prone to breaking, and with one more sin on his tongue to attack me for. And I can feel the untimely chills that herald FERMATA's appearance. He will not be pleased, either. The Choir screams these facts even louder now, assuring me that their Hell is the one I should assign myself to. And then there's the distant, wordless pull of the REQUIEM. I feel him now more than I see him, and more strongly than I've ever felt him before. His presence is the fear of death itself, and as I finally have exhausted every sane plan and route of action, he is making himself known.
All I can do now is run, and hope that in running, I extend what life I have left. Whatever game they're playing with me is over now. The Fears are finally out to kill me.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
It was only a matter of time
I can feel CRITICs of Judgement on me again. Apparently I'm not fast enough to outrun an unknowable demon. Who would have thought...
The trouble is that I can only feel his presence, I still haven't seen him. And with the Choir being the obnoxious assholes that they always are, I'm probably going to have a hell of a time hearing him, too.
I've been trying to keep REQUIEM in my field of vision whenever I can, but I guess I'll have to look around sometime. Guess it all boils down to whether I feel safer with my back to the Lord of the Dead or to the Harbinger of Judgement.
At least I don't have FERMATA making this any harder than it already is.
The trouble is that I can only feel his presence, I still haven't seen him. And with the Choir being the obnoxious assholes that they always are, I'm probably going to have a hell of a time hearing him, too.
I've been trying to keep REQUIEM in my field of vision whenever I can, but I guess I'll have to look around sometime. Guess it all boils down to whether I feel safer with my back to the Lord of the Dead or to the Harbinger of Judgement.
At least I don't have FERMATA making this any harder than it already is.
Friday, August 3, 2012
Details
I see The Advisor finally made good on his promise to visit.
Too little, too late, I’m not telling you where I am.
However, I can tell you that I’m free of that house. I
thought it would be easier to run from CRITIC if it had entered a host, and let
me tell you, I was right. Thankfully the gas in my car hadn’t frozen, so all I
had to do was break through the garage door and I would be free. Well,
relatively free. The Choir is still hanging over me, and has much more sound to
play off of and turn into jeers and threats. I’m not sure why they don’t just
blow my eardrums out or kill me with an enormous soundwave, but I guess I
should be thankful I’m still alive.
The REQUIEM is still around, too, somewhere. It seems to
like following me around, but so far hasn’t done much of anything. I guess
since Chelsea’s voice didn’t show up on the video it wasn’t REQUIEM bringing
her back to life, so I’m not sure what he’s trying to accomplish by just
standing there doing nothing. Didn’t stop me from flipping him off as I drove
away, though. Best two seconds of my life there.
Good Morning
I’m not exactly sure why you’d leave this up on your
computer, and logged in as well, but opportunities are opportunities, I guess. Forgive me for this, but you'll never know when this information might come in handy.
Now that that formality’s out of the way, where the fuck are
you? Your house is an abandoned warzone and there’s a decaying body in your
bedroom. I can literally FEEL the shit that’s gone on in this place, that’s how
bad it is.
You lived here, under the presence of at least four of the
Undying, and then somehow escaped? If you’re still alive and telling the truth,
then I must say, I’m impressed. Of course, if you’re someone posing as Thomas
Blake, then may some god have mercy on your soul and grant you asylum before I
find you.
Anyway, I’m late to the party, as usual. Care to let me know
where you are so I can find you and save/kill you before the Undying do?
- Have a Nice Day
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