I know I've been doing a poor job of updating lately and I've used the recent incursion of Servants of all sorts as an excuse. But I think it's time for me to get back to what I meant to use this blog for, informing you of how to detect and fight Them. I'm working on a post about one of the lesser known threats and hope to have it up tomorrow. In the mean time I thought I'd explain about one of the things that's been keeping me so busy.
You may remember poor Janice from Jcarlson's blog. Well, so do the Proxies. Turns out that, at least in theory, when he made the deal to protect her from monsters it didn't include protection from anything that wasn't actively supernatural. While she doesn't seem to be the reason for the increased presence here it seems that the fresh meat among the Slenderproxies, Timberwolves, and Puppets think that a way to get on their bosses good side is to bring them the head of the invulnerable girl on a platter. The Puppets have been less of a concern after the Wooden General hanged one with marionette wire for making the attempt but Mame seems to find her minions attempts amusing. I've had to kill more than my usual share of Proxies and Timberwolves trying to keep them from getting her or her family, even called the cops a couple times to report suspicious people lurking about her house when I couldn't get a kill without getting caught myself. I actually got the information on why they were doing this when one of Mame's rejects started monologing like a fucking supervillain. Hell, maybe he thought he was one. Fucker kept calling me Frank, or Mr. Castle.
Anyway a couple nights ago Janice managed to look at the window at an inopportune moment and saw me with my knife in the gut of a man wearing a bunny mask. (Seriously? A fucking bunny mask? Have some pride man.) Surprisingly she didn't scream. I think she somehow knew the man in the mask was there to hurt her. She just looked at the crazy man with his knife in the other crazy man and called me a hero. A God damned hero. According to Carlson (the offer is still open if you want out from under the Wooden Bitches thumb badly enough man) she's a bright kid. She should know better. I'm no damn hero.
Anyway, thought you should know what's been keeping me from updating. Next time you see me I'll be telling you what I know and suspect about the man/Thing known as Jack.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Friday, July 20, 2012
Still kicking
Been a little busy to update lately, understandably so if you've been following what's happened in town. This weekend though is going to be rough. It's Bike Time, and as you may have guessed along with the perfectly innocent bikers that means fucking Timberwolves everywhere I've seen plates from as far away as Jersey today. The worst part? This event is being held on what recently became Camper turf. Now surprisingly that hasn't lead to any violence yet. I don't know if the Camper just don't give a shit or if they don't want to cause a commotion with the area this crowded. Or hell, maybe they're still working together to make that Archangel dust shit. There is another problem with it being on Camper turf though. When I was there today (needed a new motorcycle jacket after that poor bastard who seemed to be turning into the Rake shredded my old one) it seemed every third booth selling beverages had at least one of Camper working it. The Timberwolves would avoid those booths, even the non-local pups, but the normal folks didn't know any better and I couldn't think of anything I could do to prevent them from drinking at those that wouldn't end with me dead, in jail, or on another 72 hour psych hold. Seems there was at least one Runner in the crowd though, all the booths I spotted Camper at were also marked with the Runner sign for EAT in the current appropriate color for this area. There've been other things taking up my time but I'll get to them in a later post. Until then, Stay Alert, Stay Alive.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Still not dead
I apologize for it having been so long since my last entry. For those who may have been worried I'm not dead, local events of late have though kept me extremely busy.
You may recall my previous mention that Muskegon Lake was recently replaced by Ink and has become Camper territory. That attracted a bit of attention from what was allegedly an FBI agent, the name Nathan Adler however suggests he may have been SMSC. The upshot is due to "chemical contamination" fishing, swimming, and boating in the lake are expressly forbidden. The people living near by have not however been evacuated and I occasionally catch Camper trying to baptize a new member. Sometimes I manage to save them, sometimes I wind up with two corpses.
The water balloons aren't the worst though. The Slenderproxies we used to get around here were disorganized chumps. Nothing too difficult to deal with if you knew they existed in the first place and were experienced and careful. A couple weeks ago though I found two of the bigger players in my area dead. Garrotted and their masks shoved down their throats. After a few "discussions" with other local Slenderproxies it sounds like that one that rescued me from the Panopticon - Mame I think she called herself - didn't leave town. Instead she decided to organize the local Proxies. The two found dead were an example of what happens to those who wouldn't bow to her rule. They've taken over most of Muskegon Heights and marked their turf with Operator signs.
The reason they decided to mark their turf? To make sure the Timberwolves stay off it. Yeah, they died down after that government crack down but there's been a resurgence. This time from the biker side of their organization. Their motorcycle club is located on third street and they control the portions of the Heights that the Proxies don't. With the exception of Hackley Hospital. Three fucking guesses who has the hospital.
Campers, Slenderproxies, Timberwolves, and Oathbreakers. You'd think that was bad enough wouldn't you? So did I, until someone called the Wooden General moved in. Within a week Norton Shores was tagged with little spray paint drawings of stylized marionettes and his gang, the Wooden Soldiers, had kicked out any local competition. Everybody but Camper and the Oathbreakers seems to be recruiting from the local Crips, Bloods, and Latin Kings as well. I think most of them are kept in the dark about what they're really joining up with and only a select few are actually being made Servants of their respective Fear.
Word on the street is that, while they wouldn't mind my head on a platter, I'm not what they're here for. I have no clue what it is they are after and I hope no new players show up. Recent reports of overly aggressive seagulls at Pere Marquette park have me worried though.
You may recall my previous mention that Muskegon Lake was recently replaced by Ink and has become Camper territory. That attracted a bit of attention from what was allegedly an FBI agent, the name Nathan Adler however suggests he may have been SMSC. The upshot is due to "chemical contamination" fishing, swimming, and boating in the lake are expressly forbidden. The people living near by have not however been evacuated and I occasionally catch Camper trying to baptize a new member. Sometimes I manage to save them, sometimes I wind up with two corpses.
The water balloons aren't the worst though. The Slenderproxies we used to get around here were disorganized chumps. Nothing too difficult to deal with if you knew they existed in the first place and were experienced and careful. A couple weeks ago though I found two of the bigger players in my area dead. Garrotted and their masks shoved down their throats. After a few "discussions" with other local Slenderproxies it sounds like that one that rescued me from the Panopticon - Mame I think she called herself - didn't leave town. Instead she decided to organize the local Proxies. The two found dead were an example of what happens to those who wouldn't bow to her rule. They've taken over most of Muskegon Heights and marked their turf with Operator signs.
The reason they decided to mark their turf? To make sure the Timberwolves stay off it. Yeah, they died down after that government crack down but there's been a resurgence. This time from the biker side of their organization. Their motorcycle club is located on third street and they control the portions of the Heights that the Proxies don't. With the exception of Hackley Hospital. Three fucking guesses who has the hospital.
Campers, Slenderproxies, Timberwolves, and Oathbreakers. You'd think that was bad enough wouldn't you? So did I, until someone called the Wooden General moved in. Within a week Norton Shores was tagged with little spray paint drawings of stylized marionettes and his gang, the Wooden Soldiers, had kicked out any local competition. Everybody but Camper and the Oathbreakers seems to be recruiting from the local Crips, Bloods, and Latin Kings as well. I think most of them are kept in the dark about what they're really joining up with and only a select few are actually being made Servants of their respective Fear.
Word on the street is that, while they wouldn't mind my head on a platter, I'm not what they're here for. I have no clue what it is they are after and I hope no new players show up. Recent reports of overly aggressive seagulls at Pere Marquette park have me worried though.
Friday, May 4, 2012
Runner Sign
I met a Runner today. His traveling companion had recently been exposed to Ink and joined the ranks of Camper. I helped him . . . take care of the situation. Unfortunately it looks Camper pretty much controls the area around Muskegon lake now. The whole damn lake seems to be contaminated, hopefully It doesn't reach the Great Lakes that would be bad. Anyway I noticed him using the knife of his multitool to carve a symbol into a bench near the lake and asked him about it. Apparently some of the Runner community has adopted the old system of Hobo Sign to communicate. Of course they've needed to add their own both to convey information that Hobo Code didn't include about Fears and Proxies and to avoid confusion. It seems the old symbol for "Okay here, good chance for food" was the Operator sign. I got him to scratch a few of the signs out on a sheet of paper for me and scanned them in for you. They're mostly drawn larger than they would be in real life so you can see them a bit better on your screen.
I especially like the insult inherent in the Timberwolve's sign. All it is is the sign for "dog" enclosed in a triangle symbolizing the Archangel. If any of you run across more Runner signs out there let me know so I record them for the education of future Runners.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
This is why we don't shoot at the Eldrich abominations kids. . .
It just pisses them off. Good thing no one near by reported shots fired, how the hell they would have explained themselves to the police I have no clue and I don't that gun Mingen has is legal and registered. Also I have no idea where each group was in relation to the other, he could have hit one of his own easily and as Murphy's laws of combat tell us friendly fire isn't.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Why can't you leave that poor girl alone?
I don't know how many of you are familiar with the events a bastard who goes by the Jester was responsible for a while back. He kidnapped a man named Derek, held him captive in a cabin and tortured him while Derek's sister Grace searched for him. That ended . . . badly. As can be expected when one of the Wooden Girl's Willing Doll's is involved. I've recently learned that after everything she went through poor Grace was turned over to the "tender care" of Oathbreaker Doctor Beakman in that hell hole Shady Lawn. Worse someone is out to fuck with her again. It's not the Jester this time and he seems as surprised as us normal people.
This "Minstrel" takes credit for causing a medication mix up that Grace discusses on her blog here and threatens to do it again if we don't solve his riddle in two days. We now have less than 48 hours to figure out what this:
OS,SBRDDR;EOYJPIYJOMHRD;PVLPT;OFNIYOMDOFRSHP;FRMYTRSITRODJOF means.
Both Grace and Jester have also been active on their twitter feeds.
https://twitter.com/#!/LookingGrace
https://twitter.com/#!/ThePuppetsFool
She needs help people. Beakman even has her convinced she never had a brother.
This "Minstrel" takes credit for causing a medication mix up that Grace discusses on her blog here and threatens to do it again if we don't solve his riddle in two days. We now have less than 48 hours to figure out what this:
OS,SBRDDR;EOYJPIYJOMHRD;PVLPT;OFNIYOMDOFRSHP;FRMYTRSITRODJOF means.
Both Grace and Jester have also been active on their twitter feeds.
https://twitter.com/#!/LookingGrace
https://twitter.com/#!/ThePuppetsFool
She needs help people. Beakman even has her convinced she never had a brother.
Monday, April 16, 2012
I'm free
Although why one of Them was apparently involved in freeing me I have no clue. It's worrying to say the least because quite frankly in this situation the enemy of my enemy is not anything I could ever consider a friend. Let me start at the beginning though.
Last Friday after I'd been noticing Panopticon types shadowing me for over a week a van with a logo reading "Freejack Comunications" pulled up next to me on a deserted street and two armed men came out of the back. Unfortunately for me someone on their team reads my blog diligently enough that they aimed the tazer at my leg instead of going for center body mass where the dart would have been blocked by the plastic plates in my jacket. Once they got me in the van they covered my head with a hood and drove for quite some time before bringing me into what appeared to be (once my hood was removed) a warehouse. Early on they tried to give me access to a lap top to continue blogging like they had poor Adam Krug. They decided that was a bad idea when the person who freed my arms had his face smashed into the keyboard so hard the Q key lodged up their nose.
Other than that they tried tactics similar to those they used on Adam to convince me that my wife had died not at the hands of a Slenderproxie but a simple home invasion. Doctored footage, edited copies of police reports that claim to show no evidence of the scene I recall finding. Hell they tried to claim that after my alleged psychotic break that I made up how I found her, that I'd stolen it from the scene in Buffy where Giles finds Jenny Callender killed. I admit the similarities to that scene exist but we all know that certain types of Slenderproxy like to copycat from pop culture. They even tried to convince me that my war on the Servants of all the Fears were the delusions of a psychotic serial killer. I know better than that. I'm never saner than when I'm holding my knife. They even tried showing me some doctored footage from when Betty took that swim. I was there people. I know for a fact that he never claimed that he didn't understand "my babbling about the Archangel". And he was certainly talking after I pulled him out of the pool filled with Ink. To insinuate that I had been moving his lifeless jaw and providing his lines like he was a puppet before slitting the throat of his already drowned corpse is just sickening.
Well, they'd noticed that so far all they were succeeding in doing was angering me. There was talk of my "psychosis" providing an unanticipated line of mental defense against their program. One of them was talking about moving on to drug enhanced methods or "engaging in the use of other physical stimuli" which I think is scientist for torture. That's when she showed up.
It looked like reality tore open, a jagged wound carved with a dull knife revealing a horrific landscape of throbbing, pulsating black plant life. I could see branches and vines moving against the wind blowing out of the gash in reality. Out of the Path, accompanied by a flurry of black leaves came a masked woman in a little black dress and red silk scarf. Her blond hair spilled down over her shoulders and her mask was mostly silver with small swirling patterns over it, the nose and cheeks were white and the lips had silver applied as if it were lipstick.
The Panopticon people panicked apparently at least the ones I had been dealing with really did believe that all this was simply a delusion. Before the Path closed behind her she threw one of my captors into it. I saw him grabbed by black vines that buried barbed thorns in his flesh before ripping it from his bones even as the horrific pressure found on the Path caused his eyes to implode. Finally the portal closed cutting off his screams. I've seen a lot of gore. Hell, I've caused more than my share of it. But that nauseated even me. They converged on her and I swear she smiled behind her mask as she spun into action. In complete silence she delivered a series of brutal hammerfists, palm strikes, upercuts, and low kicks (usually using the kick to break a knee so she could beat the hell out of them at her leisure). Now I know we've all been raised on Hollywood to think of unarmed combat as less than lethal but unconsciousness is a bad sign and I'm sure she left a lot of them with internal bleeding, some of it in the brain. When she was down to the last one she pulled off the scarf and expertly garrotted him. That one I know for sure is dead and she seemed to take an almost orgasmic pleasure in it. The little sigh she made as he died was the only noise I heard her make the whole time.
I thought this was the end, a Proxy paths in and kills everyone else in the room and you kind of expect them to go after the one who's tied up and helpless too. Especially if that person has caused as much trouble locally as I have. Instead she retrieved my knife from my motorcycle jacket that they had hung on the wall and stabbed it into the chair I was tied to so that I could rub the ropes against it's edge. After doing that she waved at me as if saying goodbye to a friend and pathed back out. When the path opened again that poor bastard she threw in was still screaming.
Once I freed myself I hitchhiked back home trying not to think about the fact that I'd just been saved by a fucking Slenderproxie. I really hope I never run into that freak again, she seemed like she could give me a real run for money unlike the punks my area usually gets.
Last Friday after I'd been noticing Panopticon types shadowing me for over a week a van with a logo reading "Freejack Comunications" pulled up next to me on a deserted street and two armed men came out of the back. Unfortunately for me someone on their team reads my blog diligently enough that they aimed the tazer at my leg instead of going for center body mass where the dart would have been blocked by the plastic plates in my jacket. Once they got me in the van they covered my head with a hood and drove for quite some time before bringing me into what appeared to be (once my hood was removed) a warehouse. Early on they tried to give me access to a lap top to continue blogging like they had poor Adam Krug. They decided that was a bad idea when the person who freed my arms had his face smashed into the keyboard so hard the Q key lodged up their nose.
Other than that they tried tactics similar to those they used on Adam to convince me that my wife had died not at the hands of a Slenderproxie but a simple home invasion. Doctored footage, edited copies of police reports that claim to show no evidence of the scene I recall finding. Hell they tried to claim that after my alleged psychotic break that I made up how I found her, that I'd stolen it from the scene in Buffy where Giles finds Jenny Callender killed. I admit the similarities to that scene exist but we all know that certain types of Slenderproxy like to copycat from pop culture. They even tried to convince me that my war on the Servants of all the Fears were the delusions of a psychotic serial killer. I know better than that. I'm never saner than when I'm holding my knife. They even tried showing me some doctored footage from when Betty took that swim. I was there people. I know for a fact that he never claimed that he didn't understand "my babbling about the Archangel". And he was certainly talking after I pulled him out of the pool filled with Ink. To insinuate that I had been moving his lifeless jaw and providing his lines like he was a puppet before slitting the throat of his already drowned corpse is just sickening.
Well, they'd noticed that so far all they were succeeding in doing was angering me. There was talk of my "psychosis" providing an unanticipated line of mental defense against their program. One of them was talking about moving on to drug enhanced methods or "engaging in the use of other physical stimuli" which I think is scientist for torture. That's when she showed up.
It looked like reality tore open, a jagged wound carved with a dull knife revealing a horrific landscape of throbbing, pulsating black plant life. I could see branches and vines moving against the wind blowing out of the gash in reality. Out of the Path, accompanied by a flurry of black leaves came a masked woman in a little black dress and red silk scarf. Her blond hair spilled down over her shoulders and her mask was mostly silver with small swirling patterns over it, the nose and cheeks were white and the lips had silver applied as if it were lipstick.
The Panopticon people panicked apparently at least the ones I had been dealing with really did believe that all this was simply a delusion. Before the Path closed behind her she threw one of my captors into it. I saw him grabbed by black vines that buried barbed thorns in his flesh before ripping it from his bones even as the horrific pressure found on the Path caused his eyes to implode. Finally the portal closed cutting off his screams. I've seen a lot of gore. Hell, I've caused more than my share of it. But that nauseated even me. They converged on her and I swear she smiled behind her mask as she spun into action. In complete silence she delivered a series of brutal hammerfists, palm strikes, upercuts, and low kicks (usually using the kick to break a knee so she could beat the hell out of them at her leisure). Now I know we've all been raised on Hollywood to think of unarmed combat as less than lethal but unconsciousness is a bad sign and I'm sure she left a lot of them with internal bleeding, some of it in the brain. When she was down to the last one she pulled off the scarf and expertly garrotted him. That one I know for sure is dead and she seemed to take an almost orgasmic pleasure in it. The little sigh she made as he died was the only noise I heard her make the whole time.
I thought this was the end, a Proxy paths in and kills everyone else in the room and you kind of expect them to go after the one who's tied up and helpless too. Especially if that person has caused as much trouble locally as I have. Instead she retrieved my knife from my motorcycle jacket that they had hung on the wall and stabbed it into the chair I was tied to so that I could rub the ropes against it's edge. After doing that she waved at me as if saying goodbye to a friend and pathed back out. When the path opened again that poor bastard she threw in was still screaming.
Once I freed myself I hitchhiked back home trying not to think about the fact that I'd just been saved by a fucking Slenderproxie. I really hope I never run into that freak again, she seemed like she could give me a real run for money unlike the punks my area usually gets.
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