Thursday, August 8, 2013

Not a Gnat

So, I got a tip the other day from a reliable contact. Told me there was a potential ally in the area. They had apparently recently arrived in Black Lake, just by random chance I guess. Gave me an address to visit them. Didn't tell me anything else. One of many draw backs to my vow of silence, I can't request more information. I tend to have to work with what I'm given.

So I hunted down the address. It led me to the outskirts of town to a shitty little motel. Home sweet home.

I went up to the door and I knocked. I was hoping they'd be home. It's one thing when a Masked figure shows up at your door... it's another thing when you come home to one waiting at your door. That tends to freak people right the fuck out. Regardless of if you're a proxy or a runner, it's incredibly fucking disturbing.

Fortunately, she was home. Unfortunately, she was not incredibly receptive to my kind.

The moment the door opened, I got pulled in and shoved against the wall with a knife threateningly held before me. She kicked the door closed with her foot as not to cause a scene as I desperately tried to wrestle the knife away from my throat.

"Another one?" She asked with great disgust. "I'm so fucking sick of hollows showing up to kill me."

Sensing this wasn't about to go well, I shoved her off of me to create some distance. Then a fight began.

Here's a spoiler, I ended my time with her on good enough terms that I'm not about to give away her fighting style or methods by describing the fight. Suffice to say, we fought. It ended like this.


To which I rolled my eyes expecting her to attack again. But she didn't. Shes quite observant. She caught it.

"... Did you just fucking roll your eyes?"

I nodded.

"You're not a hollow."

I nodded again.

"Why the hell didn't you say so?"

I shrugged. Believe you me, she was not about kill me. I hadn't even brought out the spear. Although she thought I was a hollow... she might not have really been trying... but she was angry like she was trying.

Tough call.

"I might have killed you!"

He shakes my head no. Again, from what I saw in that fight. No.

"Bullshit. I would have."

That went on for a little while...

"Whatever. Just, why the fuck are you here exactly?"

I groaned. This was getting beyond what I could explain with simple body language. So I finally busted out the pen and paper. To which I received a look of disbelief and a glare.

'I got a tip a potential ally was in town at this address,' I wrote.

"The fuck makes you think I'm a potential ally?"

'A tip.'

"Ally for what?"

'Fighting Fracture. Killing Duckie.'

"Oh. You're not a proxy?"

'That's... complicated.'

"Yeah. Me too, I guess. What do you want?"

'Keep safe. Figure out how to get a leg up on Fracture.'

"Why don't you talk?"

'In honor of Father and the Man who originally trained me.'

"You still call the skinny fuck 'father'?"

'I do.'

"I don't think I can help you."

'Because of the Father thing?'

"Because I'm pretty sure I hate the skinny fuck."

'I don't care?'

"I don't think I can work with you if you still sort of work for him."

'You should really talk to Picasso.'

"Who's he?"

I honestly might have corrected her then and there but I was pretty sure she was about to throw me out as it was and it was kind of funny to think of the name Picasso as a boys name after hearing it applied to a girl for the last few years.

'Not a proxy. Hates father and fracture... a lot.'

"So why isn't he here?"

'Pieces of mask glued to the face. Makes it hard to move around in public during the day.'

"Can't he just not glue the mask to his face for the day?"

'It's permanent.'

"No glue is really permanent to skin."

'Glued is an expression. They were seared to directly to the face.'

"Holy crap"

'They don't come off.'

"That's insane."

'I agree.'

"Look, I want to talk to someone who actually talks before I make a call. Does Picasso talk?"

I nodded. 'A lot.'

"Good. Take me to meet him?"

I nodded once more and moved to the door. Waited a moment while she secured the room and we both slipped out to walk to the hotel.

It was a quiet walk for the most part. Sure that was mostly my fault.

"You can afford this?" she asked skeptically as we arrived. I just nodded. No need to get into it with someone who wasn't with us yet how we were being funded. Although, I get the sense she wouldn't have approved in hindsight.

I led her up to our room. It was still littered with mousetraps from before.

"... What's with the mouse traps?"

"THEY WERE PART, of my, CUNNING plan!" yelled Picasso as she leaped unnecessarily from the bathroom in front of us almost tripping over the traps on her landing.

This seemed to concern our guest quite a bit. She looked back and forth at the both of us for a moment rather dumbfounded.

"Who the fuck is this?"

"I!" yelled Picasso taking an overly unnecessary bow, "Am Picasso."

"... I thought Picasso was a dude..."

"I am not old, or ITALIAN!"

"Okay. I can see that."

"WHO are YOU?"

"I'm Nat...  I don't work with psychos. Sorry."

The mention of her name made me turn my head. I hadn't realized it was her until that moment. Shit.

"WELL FUCK YOU TOO!" yelled Picasso storming off to her bed to sulk at her sudden rejection.

"Well, she just proved my point. Nice talking to you two."


"Goodbye, you two."

I waved as she left.

Picasso just kind of huffed. "Whatever."

And then Nat was gone. "I DON'T WANT TO KILL HER... she seemed nice... FUCK!" lamented Picasso once she was gone.

I should probably give that some context. Anyone who has refused to help us on our journey so far... has turned on us and eventually came back around to try to kill us... It's hard to expect Nat won't be any different... have to keep an eye out for her...

I'm kind of glad she went though... no offense of course.

Whether she turns on us or not... this might have been for the best.

Moth out.


  1. Jeeze, everybody's meeting up with everybody else these days...

    How exactly did Picasso get her mask stuck to her face?

    1. As a part of an initiation right for a specific group of proxies called 'Maskless', they take their shattered masks and have specific pieces of it permanently seared to their faces as an act of devotion.

  2. I really have no interest in killing you motherfuckers, don't worry.

    1. Apparently... thanks for... stumbling in and saving sloth... I guess.

    2. I like the bastard. And you two are a lot better than fucking Fracture.

    3. We've certainly made a lot a less attempts on your life so far. I'm sure that helps.

  3. How is the mousetraps thing working out?

    1. They served there purpose here... (

      but neither of us had had time to clean up around the room.


The more you say, the less you know...