Saturday, February 4, 2012

A Stab To The Heart.

That would be how I started the day.

A needle, to be precise. Driven right through the chest cavity and into the heart of one of the Proxies working on the same mess I am.

She then had what could be described as a seizure. Her body itself becoming a battlefield between a deadly virus... and something of an antidote our side created to fight it. Fever rising and dropping. Shaking. Skin pale and pasty. Obviously in complete agony.

She is now resting. Hopefully, she'll be fit to return to work tomorrow. Though, at this point, whether she lives or dies is completely up to her.

After all, life in itself is sink or swim.

Either you fight the current with all you have. All your strength and knowledge. Struggling even past the point when your body and mind are broken and weary from the brutal onslaught its constantly dealt...

Or you drown in the consequences.

Your choice.

That would be part of what I told darling David during our little get-together two nights ago. I'm so pleased he was able to make it. I, for one, think it was high time we actually had a chance to introduce ourselves to one another face to face. And what better opportunity to do so than placing myself in between himself and his fiance?

I did have a little fun with him at first. Nothing big. Harmless, really. David found himself standing alone at the designated meet-spot. A little four-way in downtown a few towns over from where I've been assigned. On time, just as I told him to be. The wind carried a chilling nip to its touch as it breezed through the otherwise empty street. The dark of the night only held at bay by the pools of yellow light provided by the streetlamps above. A perfect backdrop for two of His Children to meet... only... I was not there to greet him. Instead, he stood against the night and wind alone. From my own spot, I watched him as he glanced each way down the desolate roads... until his eyes fell upon a figure. Collapsed back against one of those very lampposts. Lying on the ground. Body limp.

The coat he was wearing... was one that David would recognize all too well.

It was Ronan's.

The panic that weaved itself into David's mind as he quickly closed distance to that corpse was etched right across his face. Not strikingly obvious, but there. That little mask of his only falling back into place once he was crouched down by the body. Realizing it was not who he had feared it was. It was no one. A stranger.

But a stranger who holds membership to a group that I've been having a lot of fun with recently.

Then David stood and turned around... and that would be when I stepped out of the shadows to greet him.

I must say, everything went very diplomatically. There wasn't even a fight, though I'm certain I can expect that to come later in the game. David did make a point of showing his dislike of being manipulated, but that was hardly anything worth paying a mind to. I was expecting fury. Rage. Passion. David's mood, however, I'd categorize as... annoyed. I wouldn't even say 'irritated'. Just annoyed. Not that I'm complaining, of course. The less time and energy I'm forced to waste on pointless scuffles, the better. I'm a busy Proxy, after all. As is he.

Actually, he's found himself even busier over the last forty-eight hours.

You see... I am not one to do things simply because I can. I've not a care to pull meaningless stunts to impress anyone or prove my worth in any way (That's directed at you, Elaine). You can all rest assured... that this was all done for a very specific reason. A reason that falls on the shoulders of the simple fact... that I required help. I needed David's skills. His talents. Oh, he did try to mock me for it. Making a comment that suggested all I had to do was ask him instead of involving Venny...

It honestly made me laugh.

So I began explaining the job. The risks. For each mission has its own level. Dictated by its finer details of who, what, where, why, when, and how. For example... backing a trained assassin into a corner as opposed to an accountant. Obviously the former would carry more risk... unless, of course, the accountant had trained in one of the martial arts which would make hand-to-hand more risky. It all changes. One job to another. Sometimes the risks are high. Sometimes, low. And, like David's view on the job at hand, one's approach to handling the matter needs to shift accordingly.

David's targets would be families, you see.

He thought it a cut-and-dry case, and I suppose I could have allowed him to go in believing that...

However, I needed him to take care of a NUMBER of families in a this specific town. And having him die in convulsions while attempting to make an example of those at the very first residence was not a thought I wished to make reality. So, I told him exactly what he would be walking into.

I think then he understood why I'd known he wouldn't do the job willingly. 

I wouldn't even do the job willingly.

But neither of us have much choice now, do we?

It is true what they say: Misery does love company. I'm quite pleased at the moment, I must say.

And since I know some of you are thinking it: No, David is not doing all the work himself. Far from it. I could handle what he doing rather simply... have I not my own side of the conflict to take care of. Everyone must pull their weight for this to play out correctly. I've much to do before my own Final Act in this fiasco needs to play out. However, for obvious reasons, I won't be telling exact what it is we're doing. I must say though... that I'm seeing the situation quite a bit brighter now that I know my last piece is at the front lines. As long as I hold one of the pieces from his own board in my palm, then the risks become acceptable. David will do as I say.

Correction: David is doing as I say.

And he seems to be enjoying himself. He sent me a few photos of his work thus far. Not bad, I must admit. His skills have always been unquestionable...

That would be two families down. Rest of the list to go.

I just hope the sweetheart is smart enough to cover up and wear a gas mask. These people are not your ordinary citizens. Far from it, in fact. They're Cultists. But not ours, you see. These are cults... that follow a different being than the Slender Man.

A God who's humor is quite a bit... sicker.


  1. Hm. All servants label themselves in different ways. The only being I can think of that had its servants actually label themselves as cults is The Archangel.

    Am I correct?

    1. Nevermind. Thinking on it. Why else would you get him to wear a gas mask for this task. It is fairly obvious now that I dwell on it.

    2. It sounds more like PRE12 to me.


    3. Thinking on that. You're most likely right. I really should pay closer attention instead of glancing at this while filing paperwork.

  2. Ouch. I was unaware we were having problems with Him. Make sure you wash your hands regularly and remember, An Apple a Day. Best of Luck Sister/Brother.

  3. Oh, Angel has a few followers in this town, eh? Please kill them. They're rather.. zealous in their faith, and disturbed on top of that. I'll be happy to see David doing his work for once.

  4. God, I'm late to all of your parties.... at least I have a GOOD excuse this time.

    Ugh, you have to make me sit here and think again too... I mean, given the apparent progression of things, I "guess" that Ronan's not in much real danger at the moment, so the question back there is probably moot now. But it's still irritating to think about. You know how to perform the "Digital Bitchslap" far too well. Granted, I still can't say I completely regret my suggestions the first time. The guy clearly deserved some pain, so I've no problems with that part. The killing him bit I might have fought harder against, but I was under the impression that you were going to kill him anyways, either because you wanted to or you had to, and I don't like wasting my breath, so I didn't bother with it so much. And then you present the situation again, only this time with someone I guess I kind of know... and that's where things get complicated, huh? Now it's someone I actually know and consider to be more or less a decent person... that sort of changes things a bit, doesn't it? Part of me wants to approach the issue from the same angle, but some other half won't let me. Conflict of interest. He owes me a beer...

    So... yeah... kind of being of the preference that you not kill Ronan. But also don't really have a good excuse to feed you for not doing so. They all sound selfish or cheesy. So how about just "Please don't kill him?" Will that work?

    Good show otherwise though... anything that makes David squirm so much is a stellar performance in my book. Good luck with the rest of it.

    1. One moment. Let me see if I understand this. Your reasoning for not attempting to save a man's life... is that you didn't want to be bothered with it in case you were just wasting your breath...

      Ha. Remind me never to place my life in your hands, Brooklyn. It is, apparently, a VERY dangerous gamble.

      As for Venny's situation... he is in as much danger of losing his life as David so chooses. So long as the latter does what he needs to, then Venny is safe. If not... well, you'd need to find someone else to buy you that beer.

      Good to see you back, my friend.