More Bullshit

Guys, the 'Smiling Man' is bullshit. I don't buy it and you shouldn't either. Seems to me like there's two more likely solutions here.

Either someone had a nasty run in with Writer and decided his likeness would make a fucking fantastic guise to scare people with under the premise of being one of the fucking 'Fears'  OR it's Writer himself getting tired of working for the tall fucker and trying to establish himself as something bigger. Either way, just a guy. Not a real Fear. At worst, a disgruntled Crafter off his fucking rocker.

The guy I had a run in with is dead. Now, if that was the bastard himself, he's dead. I dunno that even Writer could come back from that, and it definitely wasn't Writer. If that was a lackey, well then I guess I made my point because no more flowers have shown up.

More importantly, I'm fucking drowning in Hollows. None of them are good enough to do me any serious harm, but a few have gotten in lucky shots due to sheer overwhelming numbers. I can't simultaneously stop ten hollows from attacking-quickly in sequence, yes, but I'd have to be superhuman to never ever get hit. I've got so many fucking stitches right now I look like fucking Frankenstein. It's a good damn thing I picked up a lot of field medicine crap from the Boss.

I need to start getting shit done before I actually get hit hard enough to make a difference.

Fucking Jinxed It

Well, I asked for a fight, and that's just what I got.  The roof where I was intending to spend last night ended up being a bit more exciting than I'd planned. Somebody (probably fucking Fracture, the son of a bitch) had set a group of hollowed to attack me. Why, I'm not certain. You'd have to be completely fucking retarded to think five empty shells could possibly take me down. They went down easy, and I was already on the fire escape when the skinny fucker showed up to smack me around again. Didn't waste any time, just smacked me right off the fourth floor fire escape.

I was pretty sure I was going to die when I hit the ground. It felt like a long fucking time, too. Way longer than four floors should have lasted. It was like.. fucking Alice in Wonderland bullshit, where the bitch is falling down the rabbit hole. Except that instead of falling into a room with a teeny fucking door, I fell into some guy's arms.

I punched him out, squirmed out of his arms, and pulled a knife. He had a bouquet in his hands, he must be the motherfucker who's been leaving them for me. This time instead of roses, it was... some weird looking white flowers. Lilies, I think they're called. The scent of them was too strong, it filled the alley and made me want to throw up.

For one heartstopping moment I thought it was Writer. Certainly looked like him. The same crazy too-red hair, the same pale skin, the same too-wide smile, and with the scent of the lilies filling the alleyway it even smelled like his stupid fucking perfume.

But his eyes... Writer's were cartoonishly bright and inquisitive, whereas this motherfucker's were just... black. And not even just black. Like falling into a pit just by looking at him. I might've stared at them for hours in shock if he hadn't started laughing at me, that same laugh I'd heard too many times from our old handler when he was about to fuck us in the ass.

His voice was just like Writer's, too. "It's good to finally meet you."

I glared at him and got ready to attack. "What the fuck do you want?"

The motherfucker just laughed again at my attempts to look threatening. "I just wanted to give you a new bouquet. Did you not like the roses?"

"FUCK YOUR ROSES. I want you gone. Permanently."

"That's just not happening, mon chere." Fuck, he even uses French like Writer. What the hell is this guy's deal? "Take your bouquet, and I'll be on my way."

He handed it to me rather too forcefully and walked away. I threw a throwing knife and took him down... too easily. I checked him out, he's definitely dead, but I don't expect that to be the end of it. Who the hell IS this guy?

What the Fuck?

Don't trust Azrael. I know who he is now. He's not to be trusted, all he does is hurt people. And he likes it. Disgusting son of a bitch. The things I could tell you about him... but I won't. I still have respect for the dead, and they wouldn't want me to tell. So, Az, you're secret's safe with me. But I still hate you. And if I see you, you're dead.

As dead as Fracture will be if he ever shows his face here again. Shortly after my last post, the motherfucker showed up at the warehouse I'd chosen to spend the night, uninvited. He claimed he wanted to fucking help, but the arrogant son of a bitch doesn't seem to understand that it's only help if it's wanted. He's lucky I didn't kill him when I had the chance. The next time anyone approaches me looking to 'help' that doesn't ask first gets a knife in their eye.

And that goes double for whoever's leaving me fucking roses. I wasn't joking, last post, they keep fucking turning up wherever I am. I'm wondering if it's more of Fracture's brilliant recruiting strategy. If so, he's fucked up again. Leaving flowers is a disgustingly chauvinistic thing to do. I don't like flowers and I don't like men giving me feminine gifts. Or any gifts at all. Or men in general.

Fucking tall bastard at least treats me like a human being instead of like a WOMAN. Give me a good fight any day. This shit is disgusting.

Disgusting Bullshit

I worked for the Boss for a couple years without seeing the tall motherfucker. And now... well, I guess I see what the runners were all bitching about. The past couple weeks have fucking sucked. I never really got it before, it was just a job and I didn't really believe all this crap the runners spewed about the tall shit being super powerful and whatever, because it didn't make sense.

I knew what the Boss could do, and it was pretty fucking incredible. I knew what HIS boss could do, and it was downright fucking terrifying. But people like me live by our knives and don't pay attention to the bumps in the night because we ARE them.

This thing can't be cut, can't be killed... I always said I never met a man I couldn't kill, but this isn't exactly a man... The bruises are accumulating and I'm pretty sure I've got a couple broken ribs by now. What I don't understand is why, if the motherfucker is this vicious, it needed us in the first place.

Some of you fuckwits would say this is payback, that this is what I get for working for the tall fuck and for not caring about who I killed.  I expect I'll die alone just like all of the shitheads I did for myself. I can't say I'm surprised.

But this fuckwad's got another thing coming if he thinks I'm coming back or giving up, so he can stop fucking leaving me flowers. This shit is disgusting.

Shit Has Hit the Fan

Well, looks like my life just got a LOT more interesting. And not in the good way. Things are starting to make a lot more sense now, and I really don't fucking like the sense they're trying to make.

I've been hauling ass for about a week now, way more than I have in a long time. It appears that whatever immunity or protection or whatever I had while working for the skinny fuck has now finally been broken. If I had to guess, I'd say turning down Fracture's offer is probably the cause. Must've been my last chance to play nice and join his side again.

I was set up in a park eating lunch and figuring out what the fuck to do next, pretty standard stuff for me, when the fucker showed up. Tall, dark, and faceless, watching me eat my lunch. Now, I've only seen the bastard once, from several blocks away. This time I could've reached out and touched him.

What I did next may not have been the smartest fucking move, but it was ridiculously fucking satisfying. I spat out the mouthful of sandwich I'd been chewing and hit him right in the face. He hadn't helped me, he didn't help the Boss, he didn't save Ronan, and we all worked for the bastard. I was perversely proud of finally getting a chance to 'tell' him how I felt. Fucking cocksucking son of a bitch.

And that was when he stopped just fucking staring. The first tentacle slapped me across the face, when I was reeling from that, the second picked me up into the air like something out of a bad fucking porno. That illusion ended when he threw me across the fucking park and started batting me around like a cat

I was pretty sure I was going to die, and for a minute I was pretty fucking happy with that. As I said before, I've been expecting to die for a while, and expecting it to be a relief. And then... something fucking changed. I was facing my own death, and I didn't want to die. So, of course, the best fucking thing to do was to do something even MORE suicidal. I pulled a knife and sliced at the tentacles throwing me about.

He threw me one more time, my head smacked against the pavement, and I passed out. When I woke up, my sandwich was soaked in black goo, I was covered in slenderburns, and had a horrible headache and a lot of bruises, but I was alive.

I want to live. I have to keep fighting the motherfucker that let down Ronan and the Boss.

What the Fuck?

I got approached a couple days ago. And by approached, I mean this dumbass followed me around until I led him into an alley and ambushed the fucker. He practically shit himself when he realized what had happened. Tried to greet me like a fucking friend, except he couldn't stop stammering. He definitely pissed himself when my knife went to his throat, I could smell it. Once I knew he knew my name, I knew he was dangerous, and not some idiot pickpocket or mugger.

Apparently some asshole named Fracture wants to offer me a new position as a proxy working for HIS organization.  This fucktard-Sloth, he said his name was- was sent to pitch it to me. And he offered me money, benefits, safety, anything he thought I wanted, just to get me to join. I didn't realize I was that desirable. Looking at Fracture's blog, looks like he's running crap like a business, no wonder he sent a headhunter to approach me.

Here's the thing, though. I'm not a business woman. I'm a street bitch, a cold fucking killer, and a woman wronged by the organization you fucks work for. You're lucky I didn't kill your little recruiter. I won't work for the organization that let the Boss be hurt and killed.

Not a Damn Thing

No response, no retaliation. I guess they're hanging back to see what I do next. At least I don't have a tail anymore.

Still don't know what to do next.

Still don't know what I'm writing this for.

Still no sign of anything that means anything.


Still nobody even paying the fuck attention to me or this.