Ear Plugs

Man is not a hunting creature. We have simply never been. Hunters can sniff out their pray and respond to the faintest of sounds.

Where this is the norm for many other animals, this serves as an expected limitation for mankind. Something we can spire to and hope to one day imitate. Unlike most hunters, humanities greatest sense is sight.
It's funny when you first cut off your sense of sound because you can still hear with the ear plugs in. Just nothing on the outside. It's a ringing in your ear. A constant drumming from the heart. A pleasant little reminder in your panic when you first give up that sense of sound... that it's still there. It quietly reminds you that it will never leave you. That it's simply waiting for you to let it return to you. 

I find listening to this quiet promise is a good way of reorienting yourself once you've put the ear plugs in.

...

I've been running. I have to. I have to keep moving. Facture is probably still hot on my trail.

I stopped for a short bit to rest. You can only go so far in one go after all. I am only human.

I was getting ready to resume my running when the impossible happened. Someone found me. A stranger.

A stranger to me at least. He ran out and headed right for me like he had been looking for me specifically. He was exhausted and completely out of breath. He's lucky I didn't just tackle him to the ground and leave.

"Hey," he gasped out. "Hey, you're...Moth, right?"

The stranger stood at roughly average height with a lean body in a long brown leathery coat. His hair was dark brown and landed at about shoulder's length in a ponytail. He had very... fair features.

I gripped my half-staff and nodded. He was subtle about it but I could see he took a readied stance as he shifted his weight and pretended to still be tired and catching his breath. One hand slid further up his own thigh and pretended to rest there for comfort. He was preparing to grab a weapon of his own, if he needed it.

"Now, I know that your partner is in a bit of trouble and you're trying to get to her as quickly as possible, but I need your help.  See...some of Fracture's men have captured Kenny.  Now, he's got an obsessive little guard dog who's probably hot on his trail already, but I need some muscle, and I need it fast.  Would you be willing to help?  I'd pay you."

I studied him. I was pretty sure this was one of Fractures tricks at first and I watched for tells. No uncomfortable fidgeting, his breathing maintained a visibly steady rate, his eyes stayed on target and focused, and his fingers kept in place.

I let go of the breath I had been holding and let go of my half staff. And then I nodded.

The man let out a grateful sigh and pulled out an envelope.

 "Thank you so much. I'd help, but I've got some really important business I need to take care of first. Here's the location and some information, as well as the money. Will that be enough?"

I didn't even look inside the envelope. It already felt heavy. Besides, Fracture was involved. If I can't simply go deal with Fracture, ruining his one of his little schemes is the next best thing. So once more, I nodded.

"Thank you, Moth. I owe you a favor."

Guess Picasso isn't the only who can make friends, eh? Didn't even have to try.

I gave the stranger a hug and took off in the direction the map in the envelope indicated.
Realizing how far it was, I was a little concerned I wouldn't make it in time.

...

You have to be very mindful when you operate without sound. 

An obvious note on why is because you can't hear. If something tries to sneak up on you, you'll never notice it without facing in that direction. So that's what you have to do. You have to keep changing your facing as you move and that can be very disorienting. To have any hope of pulling it off, you have to always remember exactly where everything was when you last looked because you have to keep moving. There is no point in focusing your sense of sight if you can't more forward with it.

But the less obvious issue you run into when you can't hear, is that you can't hear the noises you are making. You have to be very aware of the sound your steps make in any terrain you are going to be moving though, the noises you'll make when you operate anything you'll have to use,  and that, in general, there is an entire element that others will be responding to that you have completely blinded yourself to.

...

I could see the location in the distance as I began to get close. It was time to start my approach proper. I pulled out ear plugs, a blanket, and the sharper half of my spear from my backpack and then I hid my backpack away.

Sneaking with ear plugs in is... difficult but not impossible. I might have just waited til I was at the building itself to pop them in but I didn't want to risk that this still could be an elaborate ambush. If Whisper was here, I was going to need to have my ear plugs in as soon as I encountered him. His words can bring you to your knees. And even if whisper wasn't there and I ended up just dealing with Fracture, the ear plugs would help keep all his drivel out.

Eventually I made it to the building and proceeded to creep around the perimeter. The place was mostly empty with the exception of one room. Inside that room were several masked figures, a boy in his late teens strapped down to a table with an X scar on his cheek, and Whisper seated beside him with a little girl on his lap.

I could see Whisper was using the little girl as a medium to speak without hurting Kenny. I could see the little girl was crying. She was painfully sobbing and trying as hard as she could to force out the words whisper was feeding to her.

And then Whisper stopped using the little girl and moved right to whispering into Kenny's ear.

Seems I was out of time. I quickly spun the pieces of my spear into one solid piece and threw the blanket over myself.

Then I threw myself through the window.

...

What the hell are you doing?!

Are you even listening to me?

*Smack*

You look at me when I talk you! You got that you little shit?

Now this is the real important part. When you can't hear, there is nothing to distract you from all the things you never notice when you normally see the world. When all you have to rely on is your sight, you can learn to take in so many more details and train your body to respond to specific visual cues in a heated situation. And that is something you're going to need if you are going to survive in this disgusting world we inhabit.

...

I was careful to land ready to strike and I threw the blanket off of myself as soon as I did. I could see Whispers expression turn sour as he turned and started talking at me. Words I could not hear thanks to the ear plugs. Meanwhile Whisper's goons made a desperate rush to try to overpower me.

Between their shit coordination and whispers words causing them to constantly stop and cringe during the fight, they were a quick and easily dealt with challenge. I am proud to say I did not deal a lethal blow to any of Father's Eternal Children that day.

Once it was just down to me, Whisper, Kenny and the little girl, Whispered opened up a Path portal and dragged the little girl in after him by the hair.

I knew it wouldn't take Whisper too long to coordinate a backup team to storm the place so we had to act fast. I went over to Kenny and quickly cut him free of his straps.

He climbed off of the table and tried to coordinate himself. He was a little dizzy from Whisper's words. The whole time that he spent trying to get his bearings,  he kept saying things. I had to stop him so I could pull out the ear plugs and actually hear what the hell he was saying.

"O-oh.  Um...thank you."

I gave a quick bow and moved to find his effects. I quickly found his shit in a little tub tucked under the table and handed it over to him.

"T-thanks," he said again weakly. He struggled a little to get his footing as he went through his tub of stuff. "Um...who are you?"

I pinched my thumb and index fingers together and ran them along where my lips were under the mask. I've known this action to express an inability to talk.

"...Moth?"

I chuckled to myself and nodded before heading over to the window to check on the progress of those reinforcements.

'Must not be any other mutes,' I thought as I waved Kenny over and pointed out the reinforcements for him.

"Who are they? Backup?"

I nodded and opened up the window.

"We should probably get out of here then, huh? You have any ideas?"

I climbed out the window and pointed into the woods in the direction of my backpack.

"Right. Let's go."

And then we ran for our lives into the woods.

We didn't stop until we made it to my backpack.

He seemed confused as to why I was in the area so I brought up my last post from Picasso's blog.

"...So you're on the move, then. Want me to come with you?"

I shook my head no and wrote 'Don't you have an appointment with the Rogue Shadow?' on my little note pad.

"I should probably visit him, shouldn't I?  But...maybe later we can try to meet up again?  Under better circumstances?  It'd be nice to meet Picasso too."

And nodded and then reached into my pack and pulled out a spear head for him and indicated that it was a gift intended to be used with Lily.

"Oh.  I, um...I don't know. I don't know if I want to turn it into something more lethal. I mean...maybe, but...I don't know. I've still never actually killed anyone yet, you know."

I shook my head in disapproval and we had a quick little spar. In which, I showed Kenny how a spear can be used to non-lethally and more effectively take out an opponent by distracting him with the pointy part and then whacking him in the face with the butt of my spear.

"...Okay. That...makes some sense." He said holding his face and biting back words he might regret. "I'll think about it. Does that sound fair?"

I just shrugged. Quiet honestly, I could careless whether or not he actually used the spear head. If he wanted to be an ineffective combatant, that was really his own problem.

"Hey, Moth...how'd you find me?"

I showed him the paper with the instructions.

"Who gave you this?"

'A stranger gave me that paper,' I wrote on my note pad.

"Do you know who it was?" he ask pleadingly. He seemed... desperate.

I gave him the only answer I could. 'A stranger' I wrote. He seemed less than satisfied.

"Huh. Well...thanks. I'll maybe see you later? Let Picasso know I said hi, okay?"

I nodded and pulled Kenny into a hug. He gave a better hug than the stranger did. Kenny could actually be bothered to huge back.

I threw my shit into my backpack and took off once again. I have a lot of lost time to make up for.

...

Do you understand what I'm trying to explain to you Moth?

*Hug*

I won't always be here. On day you're going to have to hunt on your own. You're going to have to learn to serve Him on your own. I'm doing this because I love you. Because I worry. Because your still young...

...and it doesn't take much for your Fire to go out on you at your age okay?

Now lets see what you learned from my words. That way I can figure out which parts I'm going have to beat into you.

~A Dead Man

...

Moth out.

His Children

I saw them. They're already closing in. Fracture's goons found me.

I wish he had just sent normal proxies to kill me. Fire Cultists may be a little difficult to bring down but at least I'm allowed to bring them down. I'd even sooner bring down a Mask. I consider them my brothers but at least I can show them some honor in a worthy death...

But he sent Hallows. Pure, innocent, thoughtless Hallows. Father's truest children. Eternally children.

Must be because Picasso isn't here. That heartless disloyal bitch hates them. She relishes killing them.

"NO FIRE!" she likes to declare. Something Duckie might say. Seems I'm not the only one who has been imitating him, am I bitch?

...I wish I could take off my mask and blend.

Have to keep moving. If they don't know where to look, they can't find me.

Moth out.

Missing

Right... so Picasso is missing.

Since the 23rd actually. She said, "OH MY GOD! That, IS FUCKING BRILLIANT!" and then opened a Path portal and took off before I could stop her. Might have chased after her but I could already hear something growling on the other side...

Decided I'd just wait for her to get back. 

I checked the blog today to see if she left a note or something to find she hadn't stopped commenting despite disappearing on me. Still hasn't told me anything though. If anyone knows where she is, could you let me know so I can go pick her crazy ass up.

Oh, and if you're reading this Picasso, where the fuck did you go you crazy ass bitch?

Moth out.

Observation: 'Nothing but Evil in an Endless Sea'

My proxy lies over the ocean... that asshole lies over the sea... my proxy lies dead in the ocean...

He'll slowly sink into the sea.

YAY MURDER!

Remember the cockroach we snuck out of New York? I returned his stuff to him and explained things. I then arranged a location to meet us if he changed his mind and wanted to travel with us unkidnapped and we were gonna have adventures and kill Duckie and pet puppies and lick rainbows!

None of that happened.

He arrived at the location, a shack we noticed out on the beach on the way into town, armed with a FUCKING SHOTGUN AND WAS FIRING IT ON HIS WAY THROUGH THE DOOR.

"Bounty time!" he yelled. He became so silent once he was all the way in and realized we weren't in the shack.

I pulled the string I had rigged up to shut the door behind him. He started panicking, SHOOTING, and BANGING AGAINST THE WALL to get out.

Couldn't help laughing as the shack collapsed down on him. It was well worth the time I spent pulling nails out of what little the shack had to offer for a foundation to see that stupid cockroach FUCK HIMSELF.

Moth and I Dug him out. Cut up his limps. Forced him to stay awake. Made him bleed slowly. And before he was too far gone, pushed him out into the ocean and FUCKING LAUGHED as his pleas for forgiveness became gurgled drowning noises. We watched in the sunset as his flailing stopped and he slowly sunk into the sea.

FUCKING BEAUTIFUL.

My proxy lies under the ocean... He got off too easily...

Had to keep moving after that. He might have told Fracture where we were.

Entry End.

No Roach Left Behind... Apparently.

Am I the only one bugged by this cockroach thing?

She just doesn't stop with it. I started slugging her every time she refers to a runner as a cockroach but that only seems to encourage her. Last time I did that she started following me around and kept screaming 'COCKROACHES!' in my ear over and over again. I wanted to push her head under water and hold it there until the bubbles stopped. Maybe carve 'Dumb Bitch' down her spine and skin her slowly using those stupid pieces of mask she has glued to her stupid fucking face.

Just... fuck.

I don't think we'd be quite as at each others throats if it hadn't been for that stupid runner we kidnapped.

Get this, he woke up today after days of sleep probably still riding hunger pains and a concussion, and he just immediately busts down the door of the room we left him in in an effort to try to escape. Never mind that we were just going to let him go anyways, the crazy fucker woke up in an empty room carefully tucked into my bed and what is his first reaction? Not test the lock (Because the door was in fact unlocked), not ask if anyone is around, or slip out the window. The fucker just immediately breaks down the door of the room he was in.

We both stared him down. Picasso was unphased by the sudden intrusion but I sprang to my feet in surprise/fright for a fight before I realized it was just him.

What is the runner's choice of action as he realizes he just broke into a room full of proxies? He threw a chair through the window and chased it out. We watched at the window as he disappeared from view. The crazy bitch waved to him as he left.

"Be sure to come back and see us again cockroach!" Picasso yelled to him.

And then I punched her and then I got a hours worth of screaming in my ear over it. I was about ready to take our remaining chair to her skull when I noticed the runner had left his shit in the room when he fucked off. Food, flashlight, camera, five journals (Three of which were completely filled out with details of his life running), a hammer, a knife, and a screw driver.

I was ready to throw his shit out the window. Picasso took his bag full of stuff from me and hugged it close to herself.

"NO!" she screamed.

Apparently she still thinks we can do the whole 'friendly' people thing. Which is odd because I think she's the one who is really pushing people away from us here. Doing stupid shit like called the people we are trying to reach out to 'Cockroaches'.

Whatever. I'm the muscle/assassin between us. She does all the tracking. I pointed out the window and then sat down in my chair to let her take care it. I'm assuming she did. She Pathed away and came back several hours later without the runner's stuff in hand.

She had a new little gash on her hip but since she wasn't bitching about it or screaming profanities about it being someones fault that it happened, I have to assume that she got that from traveling around in the Path.

Those fucking monsters. Honestly, I'd rather just walk. I don't care how much slower it is.

Moth Out.

Discovery: Mourning

So I finally read this today.

FUCK!

I can not believe how fucking bad my timing is. This is probably why David left Moth alone. OF ALL THE TERRIBLE FUCKING LUCK.

Apparently Ronan is dead. For how long I wonder. Just how long did David wait to share that?

Must have thought it was funny that people were still trying to find Ronan to get to him. That whole post is a like a big FUCK YOU, HES DEAD ALREADY! LEAVE ME ALONE.

Fuck you too. And I'm sorry or something... Losing things is hard.

On another note still very related to the linked blog,
OH MY FUCKING GOD THE RECOVERING SHAKY METAL PATIENT MANAGED TO DEFEAT DAVID. ALL HOPE IS LOST! RUNNERS WIN! THE END IS NEIGH!

THE. END. IS. NEIGH.

Those of you wishing a quick death, kill yourselves now. If you find this morally unjustified drop us a location. We'll make your death quick before she finds you.

No hope!

KEEP SCREAMING!

Entry End.

Analysis: David is a Shitty Rapist

Spoiler Alert, we went to go meet David. Not that we arranged that meeting over e-mail or something. Not sure he even has one. All we knew is he was probably with Ronan thanks to files we pilfered from Fracture on the way out of his ranks, we knew Ronan was in New York.

THE CONCRETE APPLE!

Apparently he was working on some broken police women. Old friend who went off the tracks or something. FAR off the tracks. Wheel stops spinning! NO ONE IS HOME.

Anyways, we knew where he WAS keeping her. Some asylum for the criminally trackless or something. Tried there first. Tried to get some clues. Forwarding address or foot prints or something. MAY have made a bigger scene than I intended to.

THE BITCH AT THE DESK HAD IT COMING! I AM NOT A MA'AM!

Not old.

You're old.

...

......

.........

Oh yeah. So that didn't work. Went to go try something else. I can't remember what it was going to be anymore but it involved Ember. Probably best that didn't happen. Last thing I need is an assassination attempt from some DUCK FUCKER and a Bear!

So we were going to go try to track down Ember DUCK FUCKER and Bear when suddenly the walls started talking!

"Explain what it was you were doing there for starters."

I'm sure I was saying something before the walls requested an explanation that would lend some context to what the walls said but for the life of me I can't remember what it was. I was too busy FREAKING OUT FROM THE TALKING WALLS.

So I took a defensive position on the high ground! Climbed right up a dumpster.

"INTERLOPER!" I declared back at the walls only to find it wasn't the walls at all. That was major disappointment one of the day. It was the first of many. SO MANY.

Standing at the other end of the Alleyway was the second most dangerous man I have ever met. David FUCKING Banks. Although I didn't know it yet... or then rather. I find out later? KEEP READING.

I was still recovering from my disappointment when Mothy Mic Asshole Pants felt the need to punch me. Guess he wanted me to try again or something.

SO I DID!


"Umm... hello?" I asked. "Why were we where now?"


The asylum. Obviously. You go to a certain place, say certain things, and you've got to expect a certain reaction. I'm that reaction. So why were you at the asylum?"


"We are looking for someone. DANGEROUS SOMEONE. Stupid fucking plan... Are you a cop? I don't feel like going in for public disturbance today."


"Do I look like a cop?"

"No? MAYBE!"

He kind of did. Or at the very least he was scary like a cop. Hate cops. SUPER TACKY BLUE CLOTHES. Anyways, Moth pulls out a picture at this point with David Banks written on the back. I'm not homophobic or anything... but GAY.

"Oh. You have his picture. ROMANTIC!"

GAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY

So yeah, he showed it to me. BLAM. Suddenly it hits me. I wasn't looking for a David Banks. I had one all along.

"APPARENTLY, you LOOK like someone dangerous," I  said correcting myself now that I knew who it was.

"And you look like idiots. So, talk. What do you want so badly that you thought threatening Ronan was a good idea?"

"Threatening Ronan? I haven't even met him! Asking! People use WORDS and-"
Never go to finish that thought. Forever dead it is. Instead, Moth told me to try try again with another punch because he is a horrible asshole.

"We were looking for you because Mr. Punchalot is a chicken shit and is afraid of losing his proxy hood thing status something. Also help. Help would be lovely."

He gave a s stupid look using his stupid face. 

"Help? Really? I think you need more than I give you."

"A cup can be filled a drop at a time!"

"I won't do it for free."

"See! No help! Murderers are no help!"

Shithead went to hit me again. I used my SUPER KONG FU POWERS to dodge and elbow! It was in impressive. You all should of seen it. I was all like 'Voom' and he was all like 'GAH!' and we were black silhouettes against a white sheet or something.

You would have loved it. SUPER KONG FU!

"How expensive?"

He then pointed at Moth. 

"Him," he said.

I spent a few moment calculating my options and the potential costs of and losses associated with David's request and David's reputation. I came to find there was only one appropriate response to such a question. I had to do the morally right thing.

"FUCKING SOLD!" I yelled and I tried to hand him over but MEGAMOTH used his lasers and overpowered me. With his fist... in my gut... Asshole.

David continued to push his request.

"Your obedience. For three days. And I'll do whatever you need me for."

I bravely marched into the corner and let them talk, totally not crawling away in pain from gut punching.

I assume Moth nodded while I was doing that. Or juggled. Juggling is the universal sign for 'Yes'. Its why so many jugglers get raped.

"Perfect. First things first, take off the mask."

Again, I'm assuming there was more juggling here.

"You related to anyone in the business?"


               G
         *             o
    @      _     
            / * \          0
  o       /_* _\          #
           {('o')}           _
 []{{{{([^*^])}}}}(_)      <-- Juggling Clown!
            [ <>]
            /  Y  \
         _\__|__/_
       (___/ \___)

"Can you not talk, or do you just choose not to?"

Finally having regained some composure, I decided I would interrupt the juggling and answer for him. Big mistake.

"He chooses... its a Crazy fucking cult thing for father."

'Shut your crazy ass up before I send you back to the white room for a little chat with whisper,' said David in an angry glare.

That was all I need to hear. I WILL NEVER GO BACK INTO THAT GOD FORSAKEN ROOM.

So I stopped talking. Why risk it?

"Well?" said David turning his attention from me and back to Moths-for-Brains.

Mothy help up two fingers, which I'm sure meant something in his own head but made shit for sense in real people thought.

David stared, awaiting a true answer.

Mothy let loose a low growl that made my everything crawl and then answered, "I choose."

I realized who David thought Moth looked like when he asked if he had any family in the game. It took everything I had in me not to gut him on the spot!

Disappointment number two, right there. The no gutting. THE GUTTING NEEDED TO HAPPEN.

Also. Moth sounds like shit. His voice brakes and changes pitch like a child choking on a puppy. That is to say often and with puppy noises.

Which was kind of funny thinking about that.

"Good boy," Grinned David.

That made Mothie growl again, though. All of the disgusting skin crawls. FUCKING ALL OF THEM.

NEED to gut him.

 "Now now. You're mine for three days. I can call you what I like. Now come on, staying in the streets is hardly safe."


"Teacher, Do I stay or am I being kicked out of the class room?"

"You can stay."

"Extra credit!"

I was so excited. With David's reputation, I was gonna get to see Moth get REALLY GUTTED.

He didn't seem as amused. Kept molesting his own forehead. Assumably in angst. MOTH ANGST!

"Just control yourself or you'll end up in the white room with whisper."

"Yes Mr. Banks."

Couldn't help but grimace. That stupid fucking room.

So anyways, he brought us to an abandoned warehouse.

I KNOW RIGHT?!

"I think I saw this is a movie...  We're gonna die. You're going to kill us aren't you?"


"Not today. You've still got at least two days. No one will bother us here."

"Proxies always know just what to say."

"White room."

Had to seriously weigh my options here. Death... or getting to watch Moth get tortured physically, mentally, and sexually.

...

Couldn't imagine getting a better chance to gut Moth once David was done with him so whatever... I stayed.

"I'll be good..."

Finally we got in the damn death trap.

"Strip," demanded Mr. Banks to Mothicles. 

Did you know Moth wears two layers of clothes? Two shirts, two pants, two socks, etc

Neither did I. Always thought he was just kind of Chubby.

Guess not.

Once Moth was good and barren, David moved in close and put a hand to his cheek. 

"Are you scared?"

Moth juggled.

"I seem to have that effect on people. I am such a perfect villain, aren't I? I think that's the real reason he chose me. I am the perfect shadow to scare people along the correct path."

Spooky stuff right? I was sooooo certain gutting followed by gutting was near.

Cue disappointment number 3. FUCKING THREE.

"Frankly, I'm sick of it."

And with that he moved a step away from moth again.

"...Sick of it?"

"You've gone this far in order to discover whether or not you've betrayed the slender man. That speaks for itself in my opinion. Wait here three days. Then you can leave. There are supplies in the warehouse. Help yourself to them. I refuse to be your villain."

"... Thank you."

After that I asked him some questions. Nothing important. Here is the long and short if it.

Penetrating loops:
He can break them or something, but he has to be there. I wanted blood but apparently just having a small part of him would take weeks to get the desired result.

Duckie's/Gargoyle's Supply Cache's:
He apparently had no idea. Or something.

I Requested a Mark From Him:
FUCKER SAID NO


...

So the long and short of this whole thing is David is the worst rapist ever, he was no help with the exception of the supplies he let us pilfer from the warehouse, and nothing good came of this.

Although Moth seems happier. Stupid fucking proxy dilemma must be solved. He does not deserve to look ANYTHING like Duckie. He lacks an 8th of Duckie's resolve. Needing other people to validate himself.

WEAK PIECE OF SHIT.

I took him to a few churches after our three days were up. I know Moth isn't exactly alter boy age but I wanted to see his smug glare ruined for good. Why do wishes never turn into fishes?

Oh, and we found a runner at one of those churches. Stole him. He wanted out of town anyways. Whatever. He'll thank us when he wakes up.

KEEP SCREAMING.

Entry End.

Objective Identity Loss

So APPARENTLY we're suffering an identity crisis. I say apparently, because I'm fine. But Mister Mopey Mute the Masky wannabe doesn't seem to be.

He expressed it a few posts ago and aside from that he's stopped ditching me in the afternoons. Now he just sits in place wherever we are staying at and stares at himself in a mirror and occasionally feels his mask. It's incredibly distracting. Makes it hard to concentrate on finger painting BLOOD ON THE WALLS.

It's REALLY fucking depressing too. Like OH MY GOD I just want to light him on fire and put him out of BOTH of our miseries!

And after that didn't work I figured we should take a detour to go figure out his persona proxy problem.

I'm hoping at the same time, the man we are are trying to track down can give us some insight into BREAKING INTO LOOPS. Rumor is, he's good at it. Two birds, ONE BOLDER!

Unfortunately I do believe I may have already said too much. Fracture's stupid smart. But I'll shed millions of more details about where we went, who we met, and what we did when it's done.

Until then, KEEP SCREAMING.

Entry End.

Observation: Breathe

I'm feeling a little better. The monitor on this laptop's blue glow isn't taunting me anymore. Now its just glowing, illuminating my keys so I can find these words.

SMUG GLOWING SON OF A BITCH!

I've been watching Moth. Studying him. I don't understand why he is what he is. He's mute, he has black hair, he has a nasty attitude, he would sooner express a thousand words with a punch on the shoulder, he hates electronics, and anything a modern people tend to consider fun. Things he shares in common with Duckie.

Things I believe he consciously choose in order to immortalize Duckie's memory through himself. Things he does to immortalize the man who supposedly bled his screaming mother dry right in front of him when he was 12. Who gave him a knife and told him to kill. Who threatened to let him join his mother if he wouldn't. Who would beat him if he ever made the mistake of talking or crying. A man who abandoned him to be executed at the simple request of an organization he didn't care for without so much as fucking hesitating.

So I got to wonder, if Moth is so hung up on idolizing a man he should hate with every fiber of his being... THEN WHY THE FUCK IS HE HERE TRYING TO HELP ME KILL THE SON OF A BITCH.

...

I spent a lot of last night studying Moth while he slept. Watching him as he lay over his blanket and sheets, giggling to myself that he was too stupid to figure out how a blanket works. So calm and peaceful. So free of his glare and his rage. Rage I know he carries. Rage I can so often see in his eyes when wants to talk but can't. Rage he can never express, that always burdens him. Gone, at least for the moment.

It's a wonder he can even sleep like he does, always wearing that stupid mask. It never comes off. Another thing he does to honor a madman. Certainly it must be hard to breath with that on, right? But I can see he is breathing. His chest rises and falls. Rises... and then falls.

Quite suddenly he starts thrashing. His own peace shattered without warning, even as he dreams. I can only wonder what he is dreaming about. He twists and he swings. Like he's fighting. Like the fighting never stops. Not for him. Not ever. Not yet. Maybe that's Duckie he fights. Maybe that's why he's here. Because he needs to be stronger. He needs to beat him. Maybe that is the natural course of his sick obsession with Duckie. With his sick obsession with a VIOLENT, ABUSIVE, SELF RIGHTEOUS MADMAN.

His sick obsession with the man who killed my brother.

Trapped in a dream where he must be dying after being turned into a monster leaving no one crying, not for him.

Suddenly he breaks free of the pillow I've been holding over his face. He takes a deep breath and pins me to the wall by my throat. His eyes are so full of rage again. But not Moth's rage. Not his own... it's his rage. Duckies...

Things go black as he grips my head and slams it against the wall he was pinning me too. 

I wake up tied to the bed again. Knife taped to my hand again. WASTING MORE FUCKING ROPE AGAIN!

They Don't Check Where They Already Looked

At least they normally don't. Fracture might know us too well.

Oh, forgive me. How cliche' of me to tie in the title and then go back and recap everything I skipped over with the tie in leaving everyone to wonder if I maybe should have used a different title.

This is Moth... I guess. It's a better name than Trent at least.

Better, because it is mine. Stolen titles are worthless. Titles must be earned or given.

Straying hopelessly back on topic, I hate this. I hate this machine, I hate that I have to use it, and I hate that I have to break my vow of silence to communicate with a bunch of faceless titles in a stupid and likely desperate plea for help and attention.

Attention, because she seems to feed on it. Not right now, through. She, she being Picasso, seems to be borked. She was chatting with Lily on Lily's blog through the comments when suddenly she started screaming bloody fucking murder, not that she doesn't do that at random all on her own sometimes, and then passed out. She doesn't often pass out from that. I tied her to her bed so she wouldn't hurt herself. Taped a knife to her hand. Let her cut herself free in the morning.

She screamed at me that I was wasting precious rope when she finally cut herself loose and pulled the duck tape off her lips. Since she got up she has shown an odd phobia of these little machines. She refused to get on them to update this blog thing. So here I am. Fucking bullshit. Hopefully she gets over her stupid little fear soon. Because I hate doing this. It makes me want to slice my fingers open.

On the note of these machines, we are done stealing them from the university. Picasso wanted us to stick around and collect some more just in case we needed them later. Five is more than enough though, besides campus security was starting to figure out it was us taking them and the last thing we need is an arrest.

Hopefully now we can stop calling these things Frogs. Because they aren't. It was a stupid fucking code name for them and I won't miss it.

Although, Picasso keeps referring to them as an 'Army' so I'm afraid she might not be dropping the whole frog thing anytime soon.

We're on the move trying to find a new safe house. Duckie claimed to have kept 12 of them across the United States but he never shared where they were. Not sure even Fracture knows. Finding one of those is a high priority right now.

We had prepared two safe houses for when we were going to declare freedom from Fracture but both of those seem to be gone for good now. Gone in the sense that we can't get to them though, not physically. This is a greater oddity than you might think.

See, Fracture used the Tracker he put in our old machine to find us while we were at both of our prepared safe houses. Both times he attacked, he did so with fire. We decided we would try to live in one of the burned out buildings as a safe house because 'see title' but when we got there we found that both sites were perfectly intact.

It's as if the fires never happened. And now there seem to be proxies living there. Fracture's goons we're assuming, living it up in the places we spent months prepping. Fucking assholes.

As an interesting note, the building we preemptively set on fire to try to catch some of Fracture's goons in the inferno when they showed up looking for us did in fact burn down. For whatever reason, there are goons living there too. They were being a little more sneaky with it though. We almost walked right into that trap.

So we're wandering I guess, trying to find one of Duckie's or Gargoyle's hideouts. 

Don't even know if it's safe for us to use the path anymore. I hardly feel like a proxy. At this point, I feel like runner wearing a mask.

This is not going well. Should have just killed Picasso when Fracture asked.

Moth Out.

Correction: Ruined Feline

NOT POSSIBLE.

You can't break cats. I tried. They just die.

So we're Fathomless again! Pitty. Probably.

Speaking of cats, Apparently Lucia isn't dead. SHE MUST HAVE BROKEN ARMS! Or hands.

More Likely Scenario: Subject is still struggling with personal trauma they no longer wish to share.

HAHA.  Personal. Impractical adjective. A person can not be personing so it's best not to question what can not be!

LOGIC!

[Edit: You have none.]

Any who... how... ways... words...
We are at a university. I can't mention what we are going to be doing but you should already know! Probably. I'll give you a hint, we aren't here for frogs.

Tried to explain running to a guy the other day which was odd. I've been wrapped into this runner/proxy thing so long I kept skipping over important shit. SUPER IMPORTANT SHIT. Like the need to run as a runner.

IT'S, like, ABSOLUTELY ESSENTIAL.

So many things I take for granted as common knowledge when there are so many who know NOTHING!
Your not just cockroaches, you're retarded cockroaches and I should have really been taking that into consideration.

I'm sorry. <3

Oh the past... the things what had happened...

I can remember the day I became a proxy like it was yesterday. It was a decision my brother made for me. He was EVERYTHING to me back then.

I can remember him kicking me awake and yelling in my ear, "Wake up bitch, we're proxies now!"

[Edit: Yeah... this story is different every time she tells it. Last time she claimed she use to have a younger sister and she and her brother had to kill the sister to save themselves and become proxies... which is a piece of Duckie's life. I'm pretty sure she never had a sister.]

Such a wonderful day. Also, NOT A BITCH!

But otherwise a beautiful day.

Oh look. Those ones aren't paying attention.

Duty calls.

FROG TAKING TIME

Picasso Entry End

Results: Positive

Fuck.

FUCKFUCKFUCK.

Ow. Seriously, explosions are not fun.

HOLLYWOOD IS FULL OF SHIT.

One, they sound NOWHERE near as cool.

Two, when you douse a room with gasoline, cut the gas line, and then light the gasoline, there is NOT enough time to leave the room.

I'm suffering a Mild concussion from the force I was throw into the wall at. It is worth nothing that IM NOT WRITING THIS SHIT AND I HAVE NO IDEA, if mister Moth, is actually typing any of the shit I am saying or if he is cybering with my account or something.

NO IDEA!

Also suffering from first degree burns down the back half of my body. Also, ALOE IS AMAZING.

The delicious cold touch of relief.

[There was a 15 minute rant about her dating the Aloe bottle here that ended in its 'tragic' death once she finished emptying the bottle's contents on her back.]

YOUR SACRIFICE WILL BE REMEMBERED!

By someone.

Someone tall. Someone brave! Someone Cool. Someone orange! Someone slender! Someone Fractured. Someone duckied. And popcorn. Burgers. Some fries. Oh and a milkshake! One of those pumpkin orange ones with the little duck straws. Gobble Gobble. I'm a duck!

[That goes on for a little while. She stopped when I pointed out the recently smashed laptop.]

Oh you! No one will remember you!

I WON'T LET THEM

Experiment Tested Positive: Ducks make Gobble noises... mooses have trackers in them that... dance, and alert Fracture... TO STOP TOUCHING ME! and give him our... Gobbles...

[Picasso does this awkward thing where she slips between he usual excited, or screaming, or rambling self and a rhythmed yet still soulless sounding monotone when she makes plans or observations. But not usually this often over the course of the same thought.]

Need... frogs.

So many frogs, likely source... university. Student tend to bring frogs, for classes. Steal frogs, use their gobbles... to blog! And connect with, cockroaches... and murderers.

Need people... to fight broken cats.

Rename blog... broken cats!

[She spent a while after that hugging/petting my arm and making slurred purr sounds while mumbling nonsense about cats. Weird shit like 'But cats don't like water.' I can honestly say I have no idea if any of that is a concussion side effect. She tends to get a little... weird on her own and may very well be acting in a manner she believes, for whatever stupid reason, a concussion patient should be acting like. 

I really should have just killed her when Fracture asked.

I'm getting a lot of dirty looks from the other people in the library for her occasional screaming and what must look to anyone else to be PDA. When you take into account that we both look like suspicious assholes in masks/broke-mask-face-thing-she-has-going and that she took off her shirt  off to coat her back and the chair she was sitting in with Aloe, we really have to get going before they call the police to throw us out.

Time to steal... frogs... from a college or something so we can continue to blog and connect with... cockroaches... and murderers.]

Dictated but not read by DEAD ABSTRACT ARTIST

[Written and edited by Moth.]

Entry... Gobble.

[Moth out.]

Experiment # 00S00

Analysis: Death Squads arrival consistent with entry attempts. Likely notable Reoccurring Factor, Laptop.

Experiment: Write post in word, set up delayed post in blogger, leave laptop in room rigged to blow.

Experiment launch.

EAT FIRE FUCKERS!

Entry End

Status: Alive

Fuck. I feel like some trashy runner. I have never run from a fight before but there were so many of them.

Acknowledgement, Firearms > Hatchets in 'Situation: group combat.'

Not that I don't know how to use a gun. I just don't have one. I mean I've been hunting runners up until this point and its not very sporty to come at a cockroach with a firearm. NOPE!

FUCKING COCKROACHES HAVE RUINED ME

Your disgusting little feelers touching all of my fucking food. You all deserve a hatchet to the face/feelers!

...

That said we seem to have bitten off a lot more than we chew seeing how 5 minutes into freedom we got hit with a death squad thing at our first 'secure' location.

We are finding it hard to turn to our own proxy brethren for help in this situation because Fracture has some notable sway in what is left of the proxy hierarchy as a handler thing. That coupled with my general distrust of murderous, monster worshiping, mask wearing freaks and I just can't bring myself to risk the oh so likely double cross that seeking aid from a proxy is sure to bring!
And for the record, while I am a Freak like other proxies just the same, I actually pull the style off.

YOU FUCKERS DON'T

AND JESUS CHRIST WHAT IS THAT NOISE?!

...

Oh... the room is on fire again... and Moth seems to have already left...
TRAITOROUS FUCK DITCHED ME!

Entry End

Occurrence: Self Liberation

Finally breaking free!

FREEEEEE

If Fracture thinks he can get away with trying to lie to ME then I'm better off without him.

Self analysis, we are unprepared.

Unfortunately, I blew the 45 days Fracture took ignoring me trying to find leads on where Duckie might have been moved to rather then setting up a means to survive without Fracture's protection. At least I have Trent... for whatever the hell that is worth. Mute son of a bitch.

I was talking a big game 8 and a half minutes ago but I have no fucking clue where to even start.

We have no leads and about... hmm... twenty dollars.

I'm thing we'll need...

What was that?

...

Hold on, I heard something. I sent Trent to check it out.

...

He's been gone a while.

...

OH FUCK FIRE

  --Picasso

Design/Time Anomaly Detected

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

This is stupid. This is straight stupid.

I... I just don't understand...

I mean, designing these blogs is an incredible fucking time sink! How are any of you still around? For as long as it should require you stupid motherfuckers to have your noses in your little laptops to keep producing these little blog things, Daddy should have long since found you, gutted you, and should be well into juggling your pitiful organs and having a gay old time!

I mean what the fuck. Seriously. HOW?!

Idea.
Obvious work around:
Use a template.

Fuck. Worthless fucking rant. Why the fuck do I even bother.

Waste of my fucking time.

Whatever.
Bye or something.

Err...
Entry End.