DECEMBER 7, 2012

Log from December 7^th:

I've had an epiphany.

After that triumphant little blurb about how I completely massacred Russ - which still feels good, by the way - I went for a little walk. Who should I find?

Jack, and Razzie. Waiting for me, hands extended (metaphorically, in Razzie's case. You know, what with the whole being-a-dog-thing) inviting me to join them in taking the world. That's when I realised it.

I'm redefining what it means, to make this 'my year'.

I don't do well alone. Everyone knows that it's never quite as good, when it's just you and your hand. 'I' had Jack and Razzie because 'I' needed the company. So do I.

So, you know what I'm going to do instead?

I'm going to Scarlet-mark the entire fucking world.

I've never cared if a proxy serves another Fear. I've gone ahead and Marked them, anyway. That's how it should be.

There is a free-for-all on my Scarlet-marked. My proxies are your proxies, my loves. That's why they're whores, to begin with - whores ought to be shared.

I'm on your side.

We'll Mark the entire world.

And those who don't fit in...well.

I guess we'll all put them in the ground together.

DECEMBER 5, 2012

Log from December 5^th:

It seems that the tech-savvy King of capitalisation forgot to take a peek at these logs before making those final few steps. He stepped out of hiding...and right into a group of Scarlet-marked, and my loving arms.

A Red Cap may not be capable of being killed...but they're very capable of being reabsorbed.

My Marked swarmed him, strung him up and slit his throat. His stomach. The veins along his arms and legs. Then, slowly but surely...the Red Cap seeped out, and into me. It left him an emptied shell...glassy-eyed and good and dead.

I win, jackass.

DECEMBER 4, 2012 (PM)

Log from December 4^th (PM):

THE RED CAP BEDTIME STORY

Nasty things are in the dark

It’s more fun if you follow.

Come and bear the Scarlet mark

We bite, we suck, we swallow.

Won’t know if you’re a Vessel,

But in bliss you still can wallow.

Our Mistress will be good to you –

That is, unless, you’re hollow.

Happy birthday to me.

DECEMBER 4, 2012 (AM)

Log from December 4^th (AM):

My Priestess and I...we have a lot in common. I think that's what drew me to her, initially. It's why I kept coming back to her when I can't even fuck her.

I knew I'd need to be around, for this part.

Crept into her room - those naughty, naughty nurses didn't even bat an eye, they were too busy with their nosebleeds. Robin was lying there, tubes up her nose and an IV bag full of blood. Chest all encompasses in casts and bandages and stitches and god knows what else. It looked as though it had been cleaned in there obsessively - I'm going to assume someone employed an Oathbreaker and they had an OCD freak out.

She'd have been mended in a second, if I'd slipped inside.

Like fuck I was going to do that.

I tore through that cast like it was tissue paper. Her chest was utterly wrecked; I have no idea how many surgeries went into putting that mess together, but it's not like it matters now.

I finished the job, tore out her mangled heart, and drank the muscle dry.

DECEMBER 2, 2012

Log from December 2^nd:

the scarlet-marked are heading back to robin, holding a vigil outside the hospital - like shes already dead.

ive followed them, and im going to save her. if i get inside her, i can save her. like ive been saying all along.

NOVEMBER 29, 2012

Log from November 29^th:

Her Runner group is dead.

Whatever attacked them slaughtered them all, and if my Priestess weren't very used to losing the majority of her blood, she'd probably be dead, too. The thing nearly managed to carve her heart right out. Her chest is gaping...skin's just hanging open, bones all cracked, as if she was opened up like a gift box so something could go exploring in her chest cavity.

Her nose is leaking blood, too. Not much. I guess she doesn't have very much left.

I'm getting her to a hospital, now.

NOVEMBER 28, 2012

Log from November 28^th:

So many Scarlet-marked have swarmed. The Runner group thought it was an attack, but I managed to convince them that I'm not among their ranks. I 'confessed' - told them I'm Running from the Red Cap, a reformed sexual deviant. Or, at least, one who got a taste of that lifestyle and ran scared. I lingered long enough to get a fistful of logs from my Mistress, all undated. Now that they're all asleep, I'll post them, here.

...Most of them, because some were just too upsetting for me to read, let alone write.

-

The re-fuelling last night has left me completely jazzed. I feel high enough to climb a mountain, jump off, and fly over the world, flipping off all the little sodomites who helped me get to where I am today. Not an offensive flipping-the-bird, I'd like that clarified - the kind that's an instruction. And, 'god' bless them, I know they'd do it too.

-

So apparently, being Numbed after puberty doesn't cancel out aforementioned puberty. So, it is actually possible to be one of the Children of the Cold and Scarlet-marked, simultaneously. You just risk some serious frostbite.

The more you know!

-

I'm getting increasingly conflicted over this Great Game business. I mean, taking out other Fears sounds like fun, but I'm seeing a lot of merit to some of these guys. EAT is one kinky bitch, for example. Seriously, we just bond. Also, with the popularity surge for zombies, even the decaying Dying Man shards are managing to get some fucked-up action.

I mean, do I ever want to see that again? God, no. Not just because of the corpse factor... It was like if I'd walked in on Jack, doing the horizontal tango. I practically raised him, you know? In his never-aging, forever-a-child kind of way.

At least it's boosting my decision to refrain from taking any of these suckers out, myself. I'll get my Marked on killing other proxies, once they've dealt with Russ. He still pisses me off, so I figure why the hell not kill him?

In the meantime, I'll just throw more orgies. Seems to be the answer to most things.

-

It's actually hilarious. Not even I understand my motives, anymore.

-

Got to give 'myself' a bit of credit. At least 'I' had a plan, before. I don't really want to keep following that plan just out of fuck-you principle, but seriously, what am I supposed to do now?

I'm losing direction. Getting introspective, and shit. That's how I know things are really wrong, because [REDACTED]. I ought to be focusing on that, because I think I'm giving the poor guy a complex. Not fair to him, since he's doing a perfectly decent job down there.

I think it's high time I headed back to my Priestess. No word about whether or not Russ got to her, and I'm sure I would've heard something, otherwise...so, I might as well. Maybe that'll give me some of my focus back.

-

While I'm thrilled that the conclusion my Mistress seems to have reached is that she'll return to me...the other logs given to me were all, essentially, pornography. Telling the world about the acts of depravity she has been indulging in, to get strong again.

It makes my heart ache.