Sunday, June 30, 2013

A Turnaround


Picasso has been acting weird. You know, weird for her.

Who here remembers this?

Its not overly important if you don't. Ignore the false accusations of an alleged porn addiction and the alleged proxy moonlighting. Those aren't important.

Key detail, I leave and do things while Picasso is asleep.

She sleeps like a rock. She tends to wear herself out.

But lately, I've been coming home to find shes not there. She leaves while I'm out. I go out looking for her and come back to find shes already in bed sleeping again. Then she doesn't say thing about it in the morning.

I tried watching the door when I got back the night after that to see if I could catch her on her way back in but she slipped in without so much as a noise while I was in the bathroom.

I held it the day after that. I kept a close eye on the door and the window but in passing I checked the bed to find she was already back in it. That's fucking crazy right?

Not a sound. She wasn't there when I got back, and then she suddenly was when I wasn't looking.

I tried just watching her bed to see if I could catch her appearing to try to figure out what the fuck was going on. I fell out of the chair late into the morning when I heard her scream morning at me from behind. Apparently she appeared in my bed that time.

I spent the night after that trying to catch her leaving. She didn't, or so I thought. I check on her around my usual arrival time to find she also disappears without a sound or a sign.

I tried looking for her. If she was disappearing she had to be going somewhere right? Given the strange circumstances, I didn't think this would work. But it did. I found her standing under a lamp post staring at a house across the street. Just silently standing there sporting an impatient glare. I tried running over to her. Mid-dash she turned to look at me. I blinked on the approach and she was suddenly gone again.

I heard the sound of wood snapping... and some running across the street. I tried to chase it but Picasso was already long gone... assuming that was her.

I went home and she was already in bed again. Once more, she said nothing about it when she woke up... just acted impulsive and childish like she always does.

I'm sharing this because I don't know what to make of this. I've never heard of anything like this. I need some advice on... well what the fuck to do. Its all very concerning.

On a completely unrelated note the Empath, I've taken to calling her 'Red', who apparently saw Duckie has gone missing. I've been spending the time I had not chasing Picasso looking for her but shes just gone. Her parents recently filed a missing persons on her. When I peeked in on the house the mother was crying and panicking. I've spotted the father driving up and down the neighborhood. I think hes trying to spot her off the street or something.

I've noticed people reacting to my presence now. After the dust up in the restaurant the town seems to have taken notice that I am not one of their masked police figures. My mask is rather distinct and I believe we've become suspects in Red's missing persons case.

Actually why I was so concerned when Picasso started disappearing. She's grounded and isn't allowed to leave due to all the attention. She sticks out like a sore thumb.

The situation in this town has become too much. I need to find Red so we can question her, find/kill Duckie, and then fuck off before they figure out where we've been staying and come busting down the door.

Moth out.

Monday, June 24, 2013


"Why are you red?"

I looked up from my bag to find a girl had moved into the stall across from me. I recognized her. I guess her attempts to enlist herself as a proxy for Father at the police station had been less than fruitful because she was still maskless... and talking.

"I mean, most you are blue. Like the guy with the crack on his mask's chin or the guy with the split up above his mask's right eye. Their energy is blue. They're Cool, Calm, Collected. Well focused veterans. Their masks could be their faces for the emotional range the carry but you... you're angry. Its a little blinding up this close."

I just stared at her. I didn't know what she was expected. She seems quite aware of the fact that I don't talk. Had to figure she was just another mouth breather speaking with no weight to her words just to hear herself think. A senseless and prideful activity that I find wastes a lot of time.

Then it hit me what she had just said.

'Why are you red?'      'Their energy blue.'

She can see my energy? Did that mean she could pick me out of a group even if I was to shed my mask and try to blend? Would she have blown my cover if I had already been doing that when she walked over?

...Is she just fucking crazy?

I put a hand on her forehead to check her temperature. A gesture she seems to recognize and returned a glare to me in response.

"Don't give me that. I'm not sick and I'm not FUCKING CRAZY."

I reeled back a bit at her yelling.

"You people are all the same, you know that!? You don't even give me chance. Just write me off as unfit and send me out with an escort."

I took my hand back afraid she might grab it and use the advantageous positioning to pin me down to the table or something in her frustrated elevated state.

She brought up a hand to shield her eyes. "Ahh, and would you calm the fuck down. So red! Almost as bright as the guy with the long diagonal crack between his mask's eyes."

Long diagonal crack between the eyes... Duckie?

I reflexively stood up. I needed to find a way to gracefully drag her off to find out where she saw Duckie, if she duckie, without making a scene.

"You turned blue... friend of yours?"

I was pulling out some paper to write on when Picasso burst in. "YOU BETTER HAVE BOUGHT TH-"

And watched as Picasso and wanna-be locked eyes.

"I-I... wh-what the fu-" started the girl as she stumbled out of the booth in a hurry falling hard on her back.

Picasso went silent and held out her arms.

"H-How can this... g-get away!" exclaimed the girl stumbling to her feet and then stumbling down the aisle knocking over chairs as she rushed for the door with a hand to the side of her head. It was like she couldn't quite see straight suddenly or something.

I was so confused by the odd scene that by the time I realized we needed her and rushed for the door to stop her, she was gone. No trace of her. I turned to Picasso. She had a big shit eating.

"THAT was fun," was all she had to say about it and she sat down and ate her burgers.

Someone else who can see Picasso as the monster she is... maybe she could see my energy?

Moth Out.

Friday, June 21, 2013


You think, I'M gonna be sad when YOU leave? FUCK YOU. I don't fucking need you. Have fun running off to your FUCKING death.


DON'T YOU EVER COME BACK. No room for the likes of you if you're just gonna BE A BITCH and bite us.

I mean, dying, THAT'S UNFUCKING FORGIVABLE. But trying to drag us in with you on your RETARDED raid of a well armed, FORTIFIED, and proxy-ized police station? YOU'RE LUCKY I DIDN'T DRIVE A HATCHET INTO YOUR SPINE ON YOUR WAY OUT OF THE FUCKING DOOR.


And I'm taking my nickname back. I'm gonna find a new Helrick. A BETTER ONE. One who isn't a FUCKING TARD. One who won't FUCKING ABANDON ME.


Picasso fucking entry end.


Hey... Moth here.

So uh, I delayed Picasso's little uh... declaration of undying hatred... thing. Her words, not mine.

I figured Helrick's raid, regardless of whether or not it was successful or a stupid idea, could only work to our benefit. Less police and proxies patrolling this town would make it a hell of a lot easier for us to operate after all. Or so I thought.

I couldn't conceive of an outcome that wouldn't be to our benefit, so we've been sitting tight waiting for news to reach us about what happened, whether or not he died and how many cops he took with him.

But its like nothing happened. The police station is fine. No sign of an attack. There has been no news of an assault on the police station on the newspaper or on the local news station. There have been no reports of death in the obituaries.  And I can't find Helrick. Hes just gone.

When he left, he was very adamant about his plan to attack the police station. I can't imagine he just abandoned it. Not after all the yelling he and Picasso shared over it.

Maybe they were expecting him. He did put up a post. You think they read this blog?

I find this all very concerning and I'm having trouble figuring out how we should proceed from him.

Moth out.

Saturday, June 8, 2013

Hel... Rick?

Hi... I guess?

Patr-... Err...Picasso, Rather I guess. She said I needed to get on here and introduce myself. I think she's treating me like a stray dog or something. I think she thinks I'm gonna stay because she helped save me. I think she's gonna be sad when I leave.

My fight is with the rake... and others like me... those warped and twisted by it's touch, whispers, and cuts....

I have to keep hunting... or those fucking whispers won't stop, those god awful whispers. I need their blood... I need their panic. I need to dig my claw deep into their flesh so I can watch their light fade from their eyes slowly... I need a lot disgusting things.

But... I don't don't want to give in. I don't want to be a monster. So I try to keep it down to animals... other 'feral-lings'... servants of other monsters... as I'm slowly becoming aware there are other monsters with their own twisted victims/slaves in more human looking shells.

Picasso tells me I've been helping Proxies. Servants of... the Slim Jim or something? Sorry... getting hungry again.

Slender Man. That was it.

I'm thinking... that makes a lot of sense. They fuckers turned on me after I went through great lengths to help them clean those woods out of 'ferals'. They didn't care about me or the well being of this town. They were just forcing servants of one monster out so they could have the town for themselves...

Only sensible thing to do... kill them all. I've seen the police force here... its practically ruled by those masked fucks. The so called police don't make any moves without their nod of approval. I'm thinking they'll all have to go. The masked fucks and the policemen... need to soak the streets in their blood... truly make this town safe.

Picasso says she can help with that... insists on it. Seems to think it'll hurt an enemy of hers.

I'm not sure what good a screaming psycho bitch is gonna do me on a hunt. She's gonna get me killed if nothing else.

But she saved me... and she won't let me fucking forget that... so I'm gonna give her and her supposedly reformed masked pet a chance, despite they themselves being perfect examples of the kinds of people they are telling me not to trust.

God fucking help them if this is some insanely elaborate ruse. I'll be ready for the double cross this time. I'll fucking gut them both.


Monday, June 3, 2013

Laying SO Low

So... in light of attacking a cop and stealing the rakeling he was about to execute for our own gains, not to mention Fracture's threat a few posts back, we decided we should probably lay low.

We had attracted too much heat! MUCH TOO MUCH heat.

So we kept hidden. I spoon fed MISTER MONSTER MAN to keep him alive since we had to keep him blindfolded and bound and we lived off of what was left of our canned goods for a while.

But apparently that wasn't good enough for mister monster man. Being the rakeling that he is, HE NEEDS MEAT. And not only does he need meat, he NEEDS TO HUNT AND KILL HIS MEAT. Eat it raw. STRIP THE BONE.

Problem was, as long as we had had him bound like that, he was likely to RIP THE FLESH FROM OUR BONES as soon as we let him go. Couldn't have that. I like my flesh. I prefer to keep it attached to my bones y'know? FEELS COMFORTABLE. It's fashionable too. All the still alive people are doing it!

So we dumped him in a trunk and carried him off to the woods when it was good and dark out. I watched him RUN DOWN SOME SQUIRRELS like the monster he is. I was kind of amazing to watch.

He would start on two legs, and then drop to all fours. And when he dropped to all fours like that he started lifting off with his over sized mutated arm to gain speed. Apparently that arms is stronger than his other arm or even his legs. But he only has one over sized arm so every time he does that he pulls to the left.

Let me tell you now, there is NOTHING funnier than watching a funky looking dog man plow into a tree while chasing a squirrel. Like OH MY FUCKING GOD, I fell over and I couldn't stop laughing. It was fucking ridiculous and THAT LOOK on his face. Priceless. Absolutely priceless.

"Hey, dog breath."

He groaned loudly. "What?"

"I can tell you're tired of my SHITTY nicknames for you... whats your name?"

"My name huh?"

"Uh, YEAH, your name."

"I'm Hellion Rick."


"... What do you mean, no I'm not. That my name."

"Said the man with a face COATED in blood and fur. That who you were! Who are you now? Don't tell me you don't have some cool alias or some poser wanna be short hand to call yourself by."

"No... wait, is Picasso not your real name?"

"I... what? No. GOD NO. That's... that's a fucking boys name. Are you fucking retarded?"

"... You can never tell nowadays... people name their children weird shit."

"Right... well I'm not calling you that. You HAVE to have a cool name thingy! To protect your identity. Otherwise the Joker and Two-Face are gonna hurt your loved ones!"

"I... wait, what? What the fuck is wrong with you girl? And, what's wrong with Hellion? Hellion not 'cool' enough for you somehow?"

"Well. NO! Its your real name. Has to be a fake one! New life, new you, NEW NAME! So from now on... I name you Helrick!"

"... That's like... that practically is just my name."

"Only it isn't! SO YOU'LL BE SAFE!"

"... Yeah... sure. Whatever."

And after that he went back to hunting squirrels. And also brought down a wolf. Stupid wolf. WHERE IS YOUR PACT NOW LUPIN?!

We were all set to tie him up and dump him back in the trunk when he had an idea of his own. He had me fetch him a hat, an eye patch, and a sling. And then I watched as he used these items to make his deformities COMPLETELY DISAPPEAR!

The hat covered the GROSS SCARRING across his scalp and the bolding that the scars had inflicted, the eye patch hid his discolored red eye, and the sling hid his GROSS OVER SIZED ARM thingy.

I even used some make up to help dress up the scars on his face!

When we were done, he looked DAMN NEAR presentable. Cute even. Somehow... looked MORE Scottish  Think it was the eye patch. That's a Scottish thing right?

Anyhow, with his disguise BEAUTIFULLY and MASTERFULLY done,  all we had to do was walk back into town without drawing too much attention to ourselves.

Easily done. More or less. Might have started SCREAMING profanities at Moth half way home but we made it home and no ones at our doorstep banging down the door yet, so I think we're in the clear!

Picasso Entry End.