New Assignment

I am incredibly tired after spending all that time in Texas. That operation truly took more out of me than I had originally thought possible.

That doesn't matter to my superiors, of course. Out of one mess and into another, that's just the way it goes here.

I'm heading to the east this time, somewhere along coastal Maryland. They're getting reports of a cult gaining traction, and of course that's bad for them, so they're sending me in to do the same thing I did back in Indiana.

Hopefully it will be over just as quickly.

- Have a Nice Day

There Ain't No Room for You

Some plans are subtle. They require finesse and absolute precision, and even the slightest waver in the circumstances could shatter everything into the most horrifying scene imaginable.

This wasn't one of those plans. It required no finesse, no precision, and no special equipment beyond the tools needed to kill and to keep yourself standing. It was going to be a big, messy operation from the get-go, and it's these kinds of operations I do my best to keep out of. But it's no telling how much the monster that used to be an Oathbreaker remembers, no telling how much of it's brain has been converted into metal, and which parts still function, and which parts might remember my face and name.

And so I was forced to accompany the Birdman on a helicopter ride with a couple of my colleagues. It was from them that I learned that the Nest was from Australia. How he got to Texas is beyond me, but it explains why I couldn't understand him half of the time he spoke. He wound up talking to our little convoy for much of the ride, neither party saying anything about what they do, how they do it, who they follow, or what they're made of. They talked of other lands, of America, and of the operation. It was almost normal.

We flew over the Camper town, circling it three times to make as much noise as possible before descending in a nice, open section in the center of the small town. The Nest and I dropped out when the helicopter was low enough to drop it's cargo. I landed first, my suit cleanly pressed, my shoes shined to perfection, the dust only just beginning to wear at the crispness. I straightened up and adjusted my jacket, my golden cufflinks shining in the bright southern sun, and the silver head of my cane shining aside them. The standard black tie accented the suit and hat that make up my work clothes. The way I see it, people die every day, so someone has to dress for the occasion. After me the Nest glided down, barefoot and covered in his desert-dweller outfit, a brown rag covering him like some poor Roman from the age of the Caesars. His head, and his short, messy hair, remained uncovered, flanked on either side by his two pet monster vultures. One of them looked at me when he landed and squawked a short accusation at me. The other had eyes only for the crowd of Camper forming around us.

Then our package fell from the helicopter with a dull thud behind us. A domesticated cow, dead for about 12 hours now, tied to the top of an otherwise impeccable washing machine. With this last gift, the helicopter lifted off and left with as much speed as it could muster, leaving us with our gift and an ever increasing crowd of Camper. One spoke up, and all around it echoed its words perfectly.

"What are you doing on our land again? Do you believe that you and the Murder can eliminate us from here? What do you gain from such an action?"

The Nest answered, with the divided voice of its god. "We would eliminate your stain from the sands of this desert, and restore it to its rightful owners. We would drive the subjects of the End from here as well, leaving no competition for the Flock."

The Camper's expressions deepened all at once, their anger showing plainly through the mask that normally covered it. I spoke up to delay the onslaught.

"Now, now, we're not here to fight. At least, not yet. We're waiting for one more guest before we start the party."

"What guest?" Inquired one mind behind a thousand mouths.

"Why, the guest we have so lovingly presented this gift for." I gestured to the washing machine behind me. "I mean, there really isn't much in the way of metal and organic material out here in the desert, so something like this would look rather appetizing to a growing Towerborn, wouldn't you think?"

The look in their eyes was priceless, to tell the absolute truth. It's a shame it lasted for only an instant as they charged us.

It's an even bigger shame that the Towerborn chose THEN to appear, instead of during my painstakingly wrought introduction for it. I guess it arrived in enough time to stop the Camper in their tracks, but it could have been a tad earlier.

In any case, it landed on top of the cow, using the acid-thrower it stole from me to dissolve the skin and get to the "important" parts. Thank God it didn't land on us, that was the biggest worry in making this plan. I turned around to face the feasting Towerborn as the Nest reached into the folds of his garb and pulled apart the skin of his chest, releasing two vultures and a flurry of smaller desert birds into the Camper population. The Towerborn turned to face me, and I stabbed my cane into one of its eyes, breaching a thin layer of glass and optical nerves and machinery to inject it with one of the charges of acid I packed. It reared back and looked as if it was recoiling, but I could see it winding up to attack me with its claws from a mile away. Three steps and I was behind it, one more and I was standing on what used to be its shoulderblades, but which now was a plate of metal covering its still-biological spine. I turned the head of my cane, and stabbed it into an opening at the back of it's head, where a hole had formed between skull and steel, emptying the second charge into its skull before it knew I was on it. In the time it took to raise its arms over its head to attack me, I had switched my footing and emptied the third charge into the first opening in its spine that I could find below its shoulder plating.

I dropped to the ground a second later, prepped the final charge for safety's sake, and listened as the metal monstrosity fell over, it's brain and vertebrae rendered useless. The Convocation had effectively begun thinning out the Camper horde, and all eyes were focused on the flock now. It was in that moment that I made my escape, for there was a part of the plan I don't believe I had informed the Nest about.

From the top of a western dune, I could clearly see the town and the hole the Towerborn had made. I watched as the hole shifted and grew, and as a hand reached out from it. A hundred fingers of flesh and steel fell from the sky and fell on the town, dragging bits of houses and asphalt towards the town center. Then finally, the hand picked up what it had collected, trapping Camper, Convocation, and the body of the Towerborn in its grasp, while filtering out the useless wood, stone, and ceramic it had brought along. Soon the hand disappeared back into the hole, and it closed up, leaving a perfect blue sky overlooking an empty town, destroyed and deserted.

A short phone call ended this assignment. I was quickly picked up by the very same helicopter that I had arrived in, and the clean-up crew was dispatched to sweep the town and to share the news that a freak tornado had touched down and wiped a quiet town off the face of the map. Pity and condolences will be collected for the relatives and never given out, and the whole thing will be forgotten in a week's time.

Oh yes, it was a big, messy operation. I even scuffed my shoes in the chaos. How dreadful.

- Have a Nice Day

It's Tearing the Skyline In Two

I'm writing this from inside a helicopter. Suddenly, I don't think this is a very good idea at all.

But it's probably our only chance at this point. The Towerborn is just too big to take down on our own, so I guess we have to take a little gamble.

I really hope I survive this...

- Have a Nice Day

Is Falling Down From Heaven's Face

Between birdbrain and me, I think we've been able to cook up a decent enough plan to work.

Or, at the very least, one that isn't completely fucking suicidal.

God, will I be happy when I'm out of this mess.

- Have a Nice Day

A Worried Shout of Light and Grace

I honestly do not know what to do anymore.

So since the Towerborn fled into the Newborn, my options are reduced to 1) Run around the desert, risking dehydration and assault by Camper/Timberwolves, or 2) Stay here and wait for something to happen.

I picked the latter, of course, and my new seed-eating friend spends his days on the roof, watching the desert, I guess.

So I went back to the usual routine of staying awake and watching for anything unusual and sleeping for a few hours at a time. I figured the birdman would see any suspicious characters and warn me if I was asleep.

So imagine my surprise when I wake up from a nap to discover that there's a hole to the Tower in the kitchen, and the metal abomination has found my box of goodies and is busy devouring my acid-thrower.

And it's clearly an abomination now. The Oathbreaker coat it wore is shredded beyond recognition, and it no longer bears any resemblance to the man it once was. Both eyes were replaced by flat lenses, the top of its head was covered in a silver metal of some kind, and wires trailed down from there to the small of his back, connecting to various ports under the ribcage, which could now be seen through a mass of machinery. Its heart was still in place, as were its lungs, but the rest was either gone or obscured by the bulk of metal over its body.

First, I tried charging it with my cane, hoping it would work like last time. However, all I ended up doing was getting myself swatted into the wall like a fly. It advanced towards me, the pistons and servos in its legs hissing and grinding as it approached, when one of birdman's vultures flew in and started attacking it. I sat, dazed from being thrown into a fucking wall, and watched as two more vultures joined in the fray. I don't know how three birds could fight a metal monstrosity, or what they could do to hurt it, but they somehow managed to force it to retreat back into the hole it came out of.

Birdman thinks it's trying to accelerate it's growth, and I could not care less what it's trying to do, since it ATE my most effective weapon. Those things are not cheap.

He also wants to make a plan of some sort. I guess I'll hear the feathered freak out, since I have nothing better to work with at the moment.

- Have a Nice Day

My Property

So I had saved this spot to formally request my superiors to allow me to work with the strange Convocation Nest, however the point is rather moot now, as I think this thing is going to end up working with me whether I want him to or not.

And I really can't get any of the information out of him that I need for the request. I asked him what he called himself, and he uttered a semi-guttural squawk, followed by four sharp, loud noises. I'm not going to bother trying to figure out how to spell that.

And this is on top of his strange accent, which can sometimes make understanding him difficult, even when he's speaking English.

So yeah...

Formal Request to allow the aid of SKRUUUUUUK IIIIE IIEIIE EEIEIE AAAEE in the capture and termination of Towerborn # whatever-designation-we're-at-now.

Details on the agreement are as follows: Vague at best and confusing at worst. Seriously, just let the fucker help me kill this annoyance so I can get back to my "normal" life.

Signed and dated on 11/24/12



-Have a Nice Day

My Beach

When I escaped the town, the sun was beginning to descend. My watch told me that it was 2 in the afternoon. By three I had emptied all of my water into the desert, no longer willing to trust the water I had collected for the hunt.

I was lucky enough to not have had anything during the course of the day. I skipped lunch and I left my water untouched. However, by the time I was out in the desert for a few hours I had begun to feel how thirsty I was. As the sun set, I was using my cane to help me keep moving. I was tired, thirsty, and utterly defeated when I finally collapsed under the weight of my suit and the stars above.

I lay there, in the middle of nowhere, breathing through a dry mouth, trying to suck moisture from the air itself, to no avail. The moon smiled down at my misery, and I imagined that the stars danced with it in the sky. How long I lay there staring at the night sky, I can’t tell. All I know is that at some point, I looked off to my side and saw a figure walking toward me.

I had just spent gods know how long watching the moon and stars mock me with their movement, so I wasn’t entirely surprised when the silhouette approaching me resembled an angel, but I was afraid. An honest to god angel in the middle of this godforsaken desert. With a wingspan as large as my body and a build larger than anything I’ve seen before. I was struck numb with fear, but I simply couldn’t move. I watched the figure stride towards me, until he came close enough for me to see him clearly in the moonlight.

He was a large man, that much I could see even from afar, built like a bear and carrying himself as if he were acutely aware of that fact. His head was covered in a short mat of dark hair, covered by a loose cloak. On his shoulders sat two great vultures, whose wings made his shadow into the angel that startled me earlier. They stared at me, their beady eyes boring past my flesh into my very soul, and my fear, briefly abated, revived as I realized what I was looking at.

He spoke, his voice sharp, accented, and laced with inherent danger. I tried scrambling to my feet, but I wound up only flopping around in the sand. I was just too tired to offer any resistance. He went onto one knee and I gripped my cane, plans forming and falling apart in my dehydrated brain as the figure continued speaking. He talked about how pitiful I looked now, and how contrasting it was to when I dropped in this morning. He picked at my suit and taunted me for being so scared of a wet spot in the desert.

I got angry, I tried getting up again, and I managed to get up on two feet, leaning on my cane, my weight causing it to sink into the sand with each small movement. I still had to look up at the behemoth before me, but I could now at least talk and glare at him without looking like a beaten dog.

He told me that my target had left, vacated reality through a nasty hole in the middle of the desert. It turns out the he wasn’t only bothering our outpost, but also stealing biomatter from the land around me, the land of this monstrous thing. And it seems like I’m not the only one having trouble catching the Towerborn. He’s apparently been evading the gaze of these vultures for many months now.

So I stood and talked to a feathered monster, and after a while, I agreed to accept his help in returning me to civilization for aid in tracking and killing the Towerborn. And thus I returned to the outpost, relatively safe and sound, on the wings of the Convocation.

I still can't believe that happened to me, at all. The bosses are going to be on my ass for this, but it might be the only way to get things done with this job.

- Have a Nice Day

My Waves

So, in order to keep things from becoming too much of a wall of text, I’m splitting this up into three parts. Any of my higher-ups reading this should go through all three if they want the full report.

The Towerborn escaped in a roughly northeastern direction from our establishment. After getting the necessary Newborn-hunting supplies, I checked to see where he could have run off to hide and discovered one town quite a distance away. It was either hiding in that town or it had escaped into the Tower proper, in which case I was screwed until he decided to pop up again.

A quick flyby confirmed what the map had told us, that this town was the closest thing to our base, and that if the Towerborn was hiding anywhere in reality, it was here.

I parachuted outside of the town, and walked in armed with my cane and a small, Spiderman-esque acidthrower. The plan was to search the area for a place where an injured Towerborn was likely to rest and restore itself, and then wash it with acid until it was dead or immobilized.

The first thing I noticed was that while this town looked passable from the sky, it wasn’t very big at all. After a quick walk around, I found a town hall, a bar, a church, and a lot of squat, featureless buildings. It looked like a set from those old westerns, down to the empty streets and hostile atmosphere.

I figured the hall was the most likely place to find enough technology for a recovering Towerborn, and so I searched it. I checked every room, from the offices on the first floor to the mayor’s room. Not only did I find the place untouched, I found it completely deserted. The entire building was teeming with evidence of inhabitants, the seats were warm, the computers were running, but there was neither hide nor hair of the workers. Even the mayor’s office was deserted, a stack of papers half-filled out. Needless to say, I left the town hall as quickly as I could.

I did another sweep of the town, trying to find some sort of warehouse or storage facility, but I had given up by the time the sun had begun its descent.

My next idea was to check the bar, if for nothing else than to ransack it and enjoy a little drink while figuring out how to explain this to the bosses. The bar, however, was not empty. The tables were filled with people who eyed me silently at my entrance. These were working men, blue collar workers, and for the first time I realized how out of place I looked in my uniform. It was no longer clean or perfect, but in comparison to the trappings of the people around me, I must have looked like a CEO. A CEO who just walked into a bar in the middle of a hick town in Texas. A shudder ran down my spine as I took one of the two open seats at the bar and signaled the barkeeper for a drink.

I don’t know how long I sat there, just staring at the liquid. I lost track of the world around me, the noises disappearing slowly until I was lost in the silence of my own thoughts. I had just wrapped my hand around the mug to take the first sip, when I heard the door close, and the footsteps of another person who walked up and took the seat next to me. I glanced over. The man wore a ratty, dirty leather jacket that looked like it had once been a very nice possession. He spoke to the bartender for a bit before turning to me.

“Yer havin trouble here, bucko.”

He didn’t say it like a question. It was a statement, as grounded in fact as the color of the sand outside. I didn’t say a word in response. He ran his gloved hand over his messy hair, and I realized that something about him just struck me as odd in this place.

“Of course yer havin trouble. City slicker such as yerself don’t just walk into town and get answers. Not here, anyway. No sir, these fine people demand a price for their answers.”

“What do you want?” I finally responded.

“I don’t want nothin. I don’t want nothin at all. But ya see, that ain’t what I’m gonna get, cause you brought yer trouble down here. Or yer trouble brought you. Either way, there’s hell to pay fer yer tresspassin.”

“Tresspassing?”

“Listen, we don’t take kindly to yer kind around here. Here, we’ve gotten ourselves a nice little equilibriem with each udder. You, and your ilk, are jest the kinda people to go and ruin that. And we don’t want that, no sirree.”

The man brought out a small box from inside his coat and placed it on the table. I caught a hint of yellow on the back of his glove as he pulled it back into his pocket. The bartender took the box from off the table and stored it underneath the counter.

“Now I dunno what brought you here to this neck of the woods, but if I were you I would leave, and let your little outpost fall to whoever is messing with it. I’d highly recommend not coming back, either. See, these people have a LONG memory.”

He stood up and tilted his hat towards the bartender.

“Pleasure doin business with ye, barkeep.”

“A pleasure as always, friend.”

The first words spoken by a resident of this godforsaken town. Five words was all it took, five distant, uncomfortable words. I was staring absentmindedly at my drink before but now I was at full attention. Out here, in the middle of the desert, any liquid at all is appreciated. Contaminate the bar, and you’ve contaminated the city.

I looked up at the bartender, and the bartender looked back at me. I felt the eyes of each and every man in the building on my head. I was stupid. I hadn’t prepared for something like this.

The roar of the stranger's motorcycle became the alarm for my escape. I bolted towards the door, over chairs and tables, the eyes of the townspeople calmly following me in my flight. It was only when I reached the door that they moved, in unison, like a finely tuned army. I heard the deafening shuffle of every chair in that bar as the customers rose from their seats. Outside, the hot sun beat down on the town where I now had to escape. The once empty streets were already filled. The town that seemed deserted and hostile was now fully angry.

I picked a random direction that wasn’t already cut off and ran. I ran from the town, and I ran as far as I possibly could before I realized how lost I had made myself.

I need to rest. The next part will go up later.

- Have a Nice Day

It's been a very long seven days.

I'm going to resupply and recuperate a bit before I post the next reports, but a word of warning, they will be long.

- Have a Nice Day

He Comes Running With a Flag in His Hand

So it took a while, but something finally happened.

The three of us spent the last few days keeping an eye out for anything unusual, rotating sleeping so that two of us were always awake at any one time. The house was rather boring, and whoever was awake wound up playing cards half of the time. Specifically, me and one of the scouts were at the tail end of a game of poker when we heard knocking at the door. I sent the scout up to open the door, and I reached for my cane. The other scout was asleep on the couch between us and the door and the lazy bastard didn't move an inch.

So I stood there and watched as the scout went to the door, half expecting something like the Rake to pop up and lunge for me. Instead the door opened and there was this guy in a white coat. I lowered my guard for a second and the man poked the scout with his right hand and the scout collapsed immediately. No wobbling, no slurred speech, just straight down.

Once he hit the ground, several things happened. The man at the door looked up and scanned the room methodically from left to right. The scout on the couch began to wake up. And I realized that the coat the man was wearing was a torn, ragged version of the Oathbreakers' uniform. The man's eyes stopped on me and I saw them widen in surprise.

I hardened my grip on my cane and in the time it took my hand to get a firm grasp of the head, the man had moved from the doorway to the couch where the other scout was still trying to get his bearings. The man in the white coat poked the scout's neck, his arm moving almost too fast for me to see, and the scout fell back down over the tattered arm of the couch that was his bed. I attempted to raise the cane up, but sadly I never made it. However, in the time between the second scout's fall and my own incapacitation I managed to catch a few bright gleams from holes in the man's arm. I would have plenty of time to think about the ramifications of this discovery while the man held me in the air by my neck with that very same arm.

In retrospect I should have been thinking about what to do right then and there, but instead I panicked, worrying that I was going to fall like the other two. Thankfully I didn't fall. The thing decided to hold me there for a bit instead of poking me, every muscle in its face twitching and spasming like nothing I've ever seen before. Soon it calmed down somewhat and began to speak in a very monotone, stuttering voice.

"I... I... I remember... I......."

At this point it let out a few noises I'm certain no man could ever make.

"This one remembers you. This one remembers the... the... the... the atrocities you committed."

I stared down at him, dumbstruck partly by the fact that this thing remembers me, and partly by the fact that I couldn't remember what atrocity it was talking about. Thankfully, it continued before I could dwell too long on this fact.

"I know you. I remember what you did... at... I... I... This one knows what you did at the location designated 'Northe Facility.'"

That one caught me off guard. I managed to get out a few words from under his grip.

"What are you?"

Again, in hindsight, this was not the best of things to ask, as I'm sure it would have continued its monologue unaided. All I managed to do was make it angry. It's steel grip on my neck tightened and it let out a wavering roar as it pushed me against the nearest wall.

"I USED TO BE A MAN. I HAD A NAME. I... I was... I..."

More violent facial twitches at this point, and it seemed to be a lot more unstable.

"This unit is designated 3.1.14.14.15.18. It was assimi... it... I was TAKEN from my facility. You let... You... You abused the Tower for your own gain. This unit was assimilated from the Recovery designated 11.4.... 4... 4... 4... 4... IT TOOK ME UP AND SPAT ME OUT ON THESE SANDS. DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE? TO HAVE THESE COMMANDS ALL THE TIME?"

I might have answered, but I was slowly being choked by an arm that I was certain was metal at this point. I took this time to notice that this guy had one metal eye and one non-metal eye. I am not sure why I didn't notice it earlier, but I am now convinced that I need some more combat training to reduce these panic freezes. Needless to say, they almost got me killed today.

"DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE? HUH? YOU DAMNED TRAITOR! I'M GOING TO DRAG YOU OUT INTO THE DESERT AND BURY YOU IN THE SAND AND WATCH YOU DIE."

Mercifully, I was now in full control of my faculties and I was quickly trying to figure out how to kill this angry Towerborn before it choked me or made good on its promise to bury me in the desert. I still had my combat cane and after a bit of one handed fidgeting, I put it on what I hoped was the acid setting, and I jabbed it as hard as I could into the arm that wasn't holding me up.

This worked surprisingly well. He lost his grip on my neck and began screaming like any other organic being would. I guess the Newborn hadn't assimilated too much of him, since the pain receptors in his brain were clearly still active. During its thrashing, a pair of glasses fell off of his face and onto the floor. This seemed to pull the Towerborn out of its agony, but instead of rushing me again, it scooped up the glasses and fled out into the middle of fuck-nowhere from whence it came.

Had I the right equipment, I might have followed it out into the desert. However, I wasn't exactly expecting the thing I was looking for to be a piece of the Newborn, so I was missing a few necessities.

I did, however, manage to catch the general direction in which it fled. I also discovered that both scouts were completely and utterly dead.

So I've contacted the bosses, requested a cleanup crew, and I'm heading out quickly to resupply and plan out my next move. I'm also nursing a bruised neck and being very thankful that I am still alive.

- Have a Nice Day

To the Wild West

I am honestly surprised at what I found here. It's little more than a house in the middle of a desert, with the nearest town miles away. The bosses said that the base housed 5-10 people, and I could see that being true, but what were they doing out here?

Anyway, my report. I arrived with two scouts mostly for backup and orientation, neither of them being the insane one that came back. I do not know my way around this neck of the metaphorical woods at all, and these two supposedly can help me a little with getting around. Don't know their names, probably not going to bother asking. So anyway, we arrive at the base, a two story house in the middle of nowhere like I already said. And like the briefing said, nobody was there. What the briefing didn't mention was how well stocked the base was.

This base must have had some way of communicating with the bosses, and there's a telephone and a fax machine here, but nothing else. No computers, no towers, no televisions, nothing. To call the interior sparse would be a major understatement. It's just empty. And I don't know if this was how it's meant to be or if we've got a thief as well as a murderer to look for.

And on that thought, I was actually wondering if there were bodies here, or at least something to indicate that there was a killing. But nope, no bodies, no body parts, no bloodstains anywhere. It literally looks like the people living here just packed up and left.

To tell the truth, it's a bit disturbing.

So since whatever took our men decided to come back for the scouts, the two guys and I are going to sit here and see if it comes back again. Hopefully whatever it is, I can get rid of it quickly.

- Have a Nice Day

Where do you go?

When I said they probably had a big job waiting for me when I got back, I was thinking something along the lines of another cult infestation, or maybe something a little bigger. Maybe it will wind up spiraling out into a complicated, sticky situation, but it ALWAYS starts simple. "Help these guys plan an assault on this cultist base." "Help these people figure out what's going on with the town's population." "Do this seemingly menial task that's going to take three weeks longer than planned."

It's been years since I've been assigned to a proper assassination. The last one I did was before I joined this organization, even before I got Tommy roped up with those shady Doctors.

And even then, I knew who I was looking for, or what I was up against. This one, not so much.

So here's what I know: we had a base in western Texas.

Had. Apparently, it's gone now.

And it's gone in such a way that the higher-ups have no idea what happened to them. One day their reports stopped coming in, and when they sent in scouts to investigate everybody was gone. What tipped the bosses off to the fact that they didn't all pack up and leave was the fact that out of the five or so scouts they sent in, only one came back, and he was apparently so far gone that they couldn't get much of anything out of him.

All the guy could say was that there were monsters in the desert, and that one of them ate everybody.

I'm incredibly worried that I'm going to be dealing with a big one here, but the bosses are adamant that the culprit isn't anything beyond my abilities to handle.

So I have to go to Texas, find something that wiped out a base and a group of scouts that we know next to nothing about, and then kill it, whatever it might turn out to be.

I think I'm going to have to gather up some supplies for this one. Seriously worried about living through these next few weeks.

- Have a Nice Day

A Means to an End

So, I passed near Logansport again. Apparently the kid from earlier had gone batshit and killed his boss in cold blood. So I guess he won't need my help transferring out after all.

And the higher-ups actually got back to me about the idea of leaving the Newborn seed with the Chicago guys and letting them blow themselves up with it. They said that it is "an acceptable method of aiding the group," and that it coincidentally clears me from having to help them beyond dropping the seed off and leaving. So I’m going to call this entire job finished, and wait for the next one to roll in since they don’t usually approve quick fixes like that unless they’ve got something bigger waiting for me.

It's nice to see that this blog survived a real life minute in the field. Maybe it’ll go places. Like that Logansport kid. Or like his boss.

- Have a Nice Day

Fun times

So, another small town. I had my worries, I'll admit, but I'll thank whatever lucky stars sent me the job they did.

So this place is a recruitment outpost, and they have been having issues with a weird cult popping up within their boundaries. Now this is an issue for many reasons, but mostly because cult activity means that something wants a foothold in the city, and that would directly affect the jobs of the recruiters here. And since very few of them have had direct combat experience, they called me in to help the ones who DID have experience clean the cult out.

However, I elected to do some digging first. Partly because it's nice to know what you're trying to clean out but mostly because it takes a while and it keeps the return to Chicago that much farther away. Through this digging, I learned that the cult called themselves "The Awaiters of the New End," and that they were pretty much indistinguishable from the dozens of other Newborn-centric cults out there.

I also learned that they were relatively small still, and meeting in a building with few windows, and on the basement level, no less. So one night, when the group was huddled together for their meeting, I pumped some sleeping gas into the room and had a couple of guys take care of anybody that left the building.

The gas managed to do 90% of the work for me, and after I culled everyone in the room and disposed of the bodies I found this nice little Newborn seed that the cultists were keeping in a wooden box. They probably wanted to unleash it somewhere in the city once they got enough people to attempt it. They're not the first to think of doing that, and I really doubt they'll be the last.

Anyway, the outpost wants nothing to do with the seed, so they gave it to me to dispose of. I really, really do not want to mess with the Newborn right now, so I petitioned the bosses to let me drop it off in Chicago and let those knuckleheads use it however they wish. More than likely the request won't go through, and I'll have to think of another way to dispose of it.

But regardless of their choice, I have to head back north to Chicago. I am not looking forward to this.

- Have a Nice Day

That was quick

The people in Indianapolis just needed some tactical help. Nice, simple, easy, ethical tactical help. God, I hate this job sometimes.

Anyway, nothing of note happened here. I talked to the boss for literally 40 minutes, told them where they should partition their resources for maximum efficiency, and got a hearty thank you for my work.

Anyway, I've got one town left, and then it's back to Chicago. The higher-ups still haven't gotten back to me about that situation, and I really don't want to go back there. Hopefully this next job will be a long, easy, and ethical one.

- Have a Nice Day

Logansport

It really isn't a "small town," so to speak, but after Chicago, anything feels small. And I get some bad vibes from small towns.

These guys apparently call themselves "The Gobblers." They've got a semi-run-down shack with a sign on it and everything. After talking with the employees for a bit, I got the notion that they were having numbers issues, as none of them seemed very adept at math. This notion was verified when I talked with their boss, a squat, pudgy lady whose office smelled too much like alcohol for my liking. 

What she gave me was one of the worst numbers assignments in the lot. I don't really want to go into specifics, but it's not exactly ethical and it involves a population sweep. It shouldn’t freak me out as bad as it does, as it’s essential to the organization, but I could never stomach these particular assignments.

Anyway, the next day I took a ride with the boss and her "chauffeur." He was a young kid, with short, brown hair, glasses, green t-shirt, jeans. In any other context he would have been the perfect example of an invisible high schooler. Except he looked like he had already seen a war and was working as a driver for a group that deals with monstrosities. I really felt sorry for him.

The population sweep we did was simple enough. Drive around town and count. Something even the less intelligently gifted among them could accomplish. But I had the feeling they weren't counting right, or just not counting enough. And the kid looked like a fish out of water when it came to this. He kept looking in all the wrong spots. I began to have the sinking feeling that he was new to everything.

Once the sweep was over, I compared notes with the boss and gave her tips on how to count more efficiently. I also decided to explain the process to the kid, since it's better that he hear it from an outsider rather than one of the other hooligans. I don't think he took it well, to be honest, and I don't think the boss could give a fuck about him. She just sort of left him outside while he freaked out.

I wish I could have stayed and helped the kid adjust, but I've got two more cities to visit before heading back to Chicago, and I'm already halfway to the projected finish time, so I've got to pick up the pace. Maybe the kid will get lucky and snag a transfer before he's roughed up too bad. One can only hope.

- Have a Nice Day

Chicago

When I arrived in the city, I was greeted by a short-ish man in what must have been a pinstripe suit, flanked by two scruffy looking gentlemen. I was greeted by the boss of the outpost that requested my aid.

This has never been a good sign, in my experience.

He also didn't say a word about the job at all on the ride to the outpost. He kept talking about stupid, mundane things like the weather, and the latest game of whatever sport is popular now, and a movie he and his cronies saw that week.

Again, this has never been followed by a good assignment.

And I was not at all disappointed when we pulled up to the building, walked inside, wound up in a small room with a map of Chicago with pins covering the entire damn thing, and he pulled out what might be the shittiest job I've ever been offered.

He wanted me to cull the Chicago Timberwolves.

THE CHICAGO TIMBERWOLVES.

I'm assuming the pins on his map were suspected locations of Timberwolf Dens, and I can say without a shadow of a doubt that he did not represent more than 30% of the Timberwolf activity on that map. He wants me to eliminate what is probably one of the biggest network of Archangel proxies in America off the face of Chicago.

I seriously had to sit there and explain to the idiot exactly how many ways that idea was horrible. First of all, you'd have to have an army to even think of doing something on this scale. Secondly, because we don't exactly have the means to pull together a sizable army to take over Chicago, we'd have to resort to taking out individuals or small groups, which are going to be replaced almost as quickly as we can off them. Thirdly, there is no scenario in which we can do this without alerting the media of half the civilized countries in the world, which is something we don't want.

Of course he didn't listen to a word I said.

So what I've done is I've elected to ignore him for as long as I can. I've got the Indiana jobs to run, and I can try reasoning with his superiors in the meantime. Perhaps they are sane and logical people.

So yeah, on the road again, traveling to some small town in Indiana. Whatever they've got, it certainly can't be worse than what Chicago wants me to do.

- Have a Nice Day

A New Job

So after fighting with me over the lack of personal detail I'm putting up on this thing, my bosses finally caved and handed me my next assignment.

It looks like I’m heading to Indiana. All of Indiana.

I'll get a week or so to travel over the state, visit a bunch of outposts, and work out a bunch of little issues they’re all having.

Not exactly the best of jobs, especially since I’ll have to stop in Chicago, Illinois first. I can only imagine what “little” problems they might be having.

- Have a Nice Day

Bosses Contacted Me

They want me to explain my tagline.

How about no? It’s a thing I put at the end of my posts. That’s all you get to know.

- Have a Nice Day

"Introduction Post"

That’s what the bosses want in these first few posts, which is a really horrible thing to make me do.

Hello, world! I’m The Advisor. I have no real name anymore, as the last person who knew it died a while ago. I work for an organization that you may or may not have heard of, and I’m certainly not going to help you learn of it if you don’t already know of it.

I guess what I can tell you is what my job entails, since that’s apparently what this blog covers.

First, I’m what my title implies, I’m an advisor. I go all around the country and help associates and employees with their issues. I’ve done everything from helping with accounting to organizing full scale battles. They really don’t care what I help with, so long as I’m able to help.

Secondly, I’m a hunter of sorts. There are some really, really terrible things out there, and as such, it’s only natural that some people flock to them. For aid, for salvation, for protection, for all sorts of reasons. Anyway, what I do is I occasionally hunt and kill those people. Usually this coincides with my “advising” in that I’m helping a branch out by culling the local crazies, so that they can do their job better, whatever that might mean for them.

And now I have to keep up a blog as well. Fun.

- Have a Nice Day

Good Morning

I got promoted today. 

This doesn’t really mean all that much to me, as I haven’t moved up, but rather off to the side. You see, instead of being promoted to a manager position or an administrative position, I get to add “reporter” to my list of duties. Or whatever they’re calling it now. They decided against simple “blogger” ages ago.

They also decided that my last spat at blogging was so good that it needed to be part of my job. 

Shows what they know.

They’ve also given me a week to make this thing, which is weird given that it took me literally three seconds to set up.

I guess this means I get a week off. Might as well enjoy the free time.

- Have a Nice Day