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
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
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
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
Sunday, December 9, 2012
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
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
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
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
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
Saturday, December 1, 2012
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
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
Saturday, November 24, 2012
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
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
Friday, November 23, 2012
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
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