How I Wish I Could Tell You The Name...

...Of the church I am currently residing in. For what it is to the public eye and what it is to us... well, the irony is simply beautiful. Of course, I would expect no less from Requiem. The man is nothing short of obsessive of his own role in the "Divine Plan." So, it is only natural his church would reflect his true loyalty in the most elegant, yet blatant, way possible. It is simply how he is.

Honestly, I wouldn't even doubt that the man considers himself something of a Messiah. Many would probably consider his ego irritating if one was to actually take him seriously. However, like I mentioned to my newest friend, I don't tend to take anyone seriously. Myself included. So I happen to find Requiem as excellent a company as any of my kin. As for how he views me... well, I believe I am "tolerated." Which actually says a great deal. Considering I'd be quite hesitant to say that there is another level that exists above that to ascend to. At least, in being tolerated, I not only received the invite to visit with my friend Jerome... but Requiem also went so far as to do me a "favor."

You see, I had a party to go to. Hosted by our dearest friends from Baker Street. You have probably already heard of it from other Proxies. Most accurately detailed by our dearest Ridley, I would say. However, I had a touch of a problem in getting there.

You see, I happen to have a rather strong dislike of using The Path for even the most dire of circumstances. Leave alone for such casual means as this. While the invitation was certainly designed so as to make it clear it was not to be ignored... I had been planning to do just that. After all, the other option had been to put off my plans yet again and travel across several states in order to reach the Looped area. Not a way I planned to spend my New Years. Thank you very much.

However... that would be where Requiem would come into the matter. After realizing I wasn't going to go, he gave me a rather long speech about how it isn't wise to always be testing the tolerance of the Highers, such as Valtiel and Writer. I begged to differ, but my lecture was far from through. I was reminded through the overuse of many religious-esq terms that I do not spend enough time with my kin. Requiem chose to warn me in his particularly drawn-out fashion that, since I continue to drift on my own with only my "soul partners" as company, I need to take all opportunities I can to "bond with our brethren." That I must speak to the "New Bloods" to offer advice and encouragement as they walk the "Enlightened Path." Then he went on about something regarding not being "recognized within the flock"...

Sometimes it is easier to quit listening.

In any case, Requiem decided to open The Path for me himself. Not giving me a choice in the matter.

He is nothing if not persistent, that is for certain. Sort of like a flea in that way. I couldn't even use the fact I didn't have anything that would do as "black tie" since Requiem had insisted I took a "purer appearance" during some of the rituals I had attended at his church in the past. So I actually did have clothes available to me that weren't in tatters. A true pity. Otherwise that would have been an excellent excuse.

I must admit, it was a rather amusing little gathering. The tension was high from the start, so I spent a good while at the beginning simply circulating the crowd. Seeing who had shown themselves. I particularly enjoyed getting under the skin of a few particular members of my family (rest assured, Nat. I'll give you the chance to show me your "skillz" one day) before getting around to discuss some business matters with Morgan. Who, from hence forth, I will not refer to as "Morningstar" until he has earned it and finishes what we spoke of months ago. He has claimed he will focus himself after his current mission, but my hopes on that are rather low. We shall see. Worst comes to worst, I will carry out what we discussed myself. And he will forever be Morgan. Just. Morgan.

I felt so very unwelcome by "Joseph." He didn't seem to appreciate my contribution to the night's activities at all. Hurriedly excusing himself when I complimented the party and commented on the promise of calamities worthy of the records book. Quite rude, really.

In spite of my own efforts... the main conflict of the night wasn't even initiated by myself.. Valtiel took care of that. A Higher in their truest form, to be sure.

"Do as I say, not as I do."

Then, just as things were beginning to become a bit more interesting... a familiar figure caught my attention outside of the cafe. A strong sense of foreboding hit me. And so, in a few scarce seconds, I had easily slipped away from the growing conflict without the notice of a single soul. Requiem greeted me with an apology before falling in step at my side. Walking down the stretch of pavement looking for a sliver of privacy should the brawl in the cafe erupt onto the road.

Requiem informed me that he was out for blood.

Apparently, one of his subordinates had been attacked by a Runner on the outside of town. Sister Fuchsia was jumped from behind and given a rather nasty beating. Requiem is assuming at this point that the fractured skull she suffered was the first blow. Hence explaining the attacker's ability to get away without leaving a blood trail while Fuchsia was turned black and blue. Nothing short of impossible had it been anything other  than the work of a coward. Fuchsia had been badly bleeding and barely conscious. And yet her attacker still demanded a task of her. She was told to deliver a message. The man could have killed her, but instead he simply put an envelope in her hand and left her there.

She was found by a citizen of the town. A norm. She was then taken to the hospital and Requiem was later contacted. He went to see her there with promise of getting her home soon. And that would be when she told him about the envelope.

However, it was not addressed to Requiem.

It was addressed to me.

Inside was a single scrap of paper.

It read as:

"How long can you stand the pain?
How long will you hide your face?
How long will you be afraid?
Are you afraid?
How long will you play this game?
Will you fight or will you walk away?
How long will you let it burn?

How long will you stay buried inside your new name,

NightScreAM?" 

The coding is just too cute, don't you think? 

Requiem's first comment was that Sister Orchid would be likely to "squee" if she were to read this. Apparently she listens to this particular band enough in her private room for the Priest to recognize the lyrics of the song. Thank God for that, otherwise I would have just assumed it to be a mere scattering of pointless questions. Now that I am aware they are a scattering of pointless questions in SONG FORM, I am truly, truly devastated by such a searing quip. I may never recover.

I apologized to my brother for not having much of a clue of who it could be from. I would say it was someone to do with my history, but since I announced my real name on here... well, it could be any Runner at all. Hn, perhaps Dia has become my personal stalker? Anything to say for yourself, sweetheart? It's not nice to mock people in other fields of work, you know.

In any case, I felt more need to see my beaten sister than I did to return to a party that - from the sounds of things - had already begun to settle down for one reason or another. So, Requiem used The Path and brought us back again. To find an unholy mess waiting.

Someone... had attempted to set fire to the church.

Firefighters. Police. Nosy-neighbors. The mess was near impossible to contain without someone wandering off where they were not welcome. Requiem's team worked hand and hand with passer-by Proxies to get matters under control again. Anyone who tried to make all that much of a fuss at being restricted had the pleasure of answering to Mother Vex. The woman is nothing short of brutal. Not to mention she is rather brilliant minded. She gives medical care onto Proxies who require it and, whether he is aware of it or not, holds the figurative leash on Requiem. For how he can ramble on and on until he loses touch of what his original topic was... Vex is sharp and to the point. Quick as a switchblade to put any fool in their place. She is a woman... of very few words and even fewer strands of tolerance. 

I actually had the pleasure of hearing one of her tirades that day. Without having to be the one to receive it. I nearly felt pity for those officers. I truly did.

During the activity, I wasn't able to offer much in the way of assistance as my attire made it impossible for me to help in any way, shape, or form. For some reason that is truly beyond my understanding... the norms tend to come to the rather bizarre conclusion that I appear a tad suspicious. Could never figure it out, myself. That being said, I didn't dare leave either. The police were already making their own patrols of the streets for suspicious activity, and I also wished to keep myself available in the case that I was needed. I wasn't, but at least the opinion was there.

After things had begun to die down, Requiem was looking much like a volcano ready to erupt. Though he approached me with assurances that the damage hadn't been too bad and the crowds had been decently contained, he was in an absolute rage at the desecration of his church and the abuse of his subordinates. He also expressed concerns that one of the officers had been acting rather hostile. Someone who had already been asking some more... unusual questions as of late. 

Just something else to keep an eye on, I suppose.

After all, this is not a Cult Town. Instead, it is merely a Host. We don't control it. Not yet.

You see, I wasn't exaggerating when I called my kin a growing inflection festering beneath the skin. That is exactly how we are at the moment. Your cultures host ours. Community Centers. Places of Worship, mostly, such as churches, mosques, temples, and so on... they exist right across the country. Serving a double-purpose. Serving us. Providing shelter. Medical care. Supplies. And, of course, a wealth of contacts and information. The local residence kept completely unaware that anything is even remotely amiss.

We even have a name for them. Unfortunately, like the name of this particular church and, in connection, its location... it is what could be described as "classified." I cannot simply GIVE information away. Not only would it ruin a good portion of the fun, but also many of my kin are going to be annoyed enough that I've even said this much. After all, there are those who would love an opportunity to strike us in such a location. A fall of one would be a shame. Not detrimental, of course. But a shame.

They are also, for the most part, the only sectors in which Proxies will either bite their tongues or suggest to take a disagreement outside. Brawls are rather... looked down upon.

After all... these are Houses of our God. Shrines. One must show respect.

Proxies who have failed to realize this simple fact have been known to earn a few weeks stay in the infirmaries within those very Houses.

I do know that Requiem himself has gone so far as to remove skin from an offender in his church. If you were to ask his nuns or any others that respect him, the story would go that the individual hadn't been much for honoring He as our God, so attempted to set Requiem on fire for being overly "preachy." Some mockery about "becoming the Holy Light" or of that likeness. In retaliation, Requiem is said to have beaten and bound the Proxy before systematically removing every shred of skin over the Proxy's entire body. Stopping the process if the offender passed out and continuing once he woke up. Taking it all... excluding a small scrap of skin in the shape of an operator symbol on the offender's forehead.

I have, however, been informed by a rather amused Requiem that it was just an arm and the operator symbol was on the palm of the hand. And it wasn't for attacking him. It was for cropping a feel of one of his subordinates. Sister Dahlia.

Apparently, the Proxy usually drops in every other month or so. Still at work. Requiem would never tell me his name. He only tells me to "look for [his] mark."

But I digress.

Leads for the arsonist dried up quickly with thanks to the "investigations" of the local authorities.

Requiem, however, has only been expanding his search. He wants the Runner. And, from the look in his eye when he speaks of it, I'd say he wants him alive.

As for myself, I have been assisting in the search as well as clean-up. I have also made it my place to stay on top of the investigation in case it swings its blade in the direction of the church, as well as assigning myself to find out what, if anything, that one specific police officer knows of us. In addition, I've been sparing with Requiem to make certain he doesn't blow a fuse in one of his sermons to the norms. As that would be the very last thing we need at the moment.

In short... I haven't been sleeping much. I believe my last bit of shut eye was over forty-eight hours ago.

At least Jerome has served a double-purpose. It was... absolutely glorious. Requiem had been particularly hostile that day. Put his gun to my forehead in response to a comment of mine which was, I'll admit, more than a little mocking. Which lead me to the shining conclusion that he required a bit of stress-relief which wouldn't have ME as the intended target. I quite literally took Requiem's hand while he was in mid-rant and lead him to where we had stashed Jerome for safe-keeping.

The parasite was cowered into the farthest corner of the room. Muttering to himself. Twitching. And it only got worse when he laid eyes on us in the doorway. He must have recognized the difference in my smile, because his pleas for mercy immediately started bubbling up his throat instead of the squeaks he would normally give. He begged for a quick death. Begged to be taken back into service.

He was to receive neither.

You see, I'd already had such fun with him by that point. Our time together was tattooed on his flesh with wounds of several shapes and sizes. Cuts and burns and bites from some rats who had happened to find him while he'd been restrained in that little torture device of mine. Kali and Loki had also had their chance to make their opinion of him known. Leaving such a wonderful mess of his back. Quite beautiful artwork, in my opinion. Nearly want to frame it.

There was also this one Runner who I was asssigned to as a Spook. I had...

...

...

...

Well. The fun times just never end.

I'm afraid I must leave this as a "To Be Continued," my friends. So sorry.

Keep smiling!