Mirrors and Madness

I saw myself move in the mirror today. He turned left when I turned right, or at least he turned to my left while I turned to my right, seeing as it gets ambiguous when the other person moving is also me. It was for only the briefest of seconds that I didn't really noticed until I'd looked away, and by then it was back to normal when I glanced back. But I moved.

He was there, or the mess He's making was there, seeing as I didn't see Him. If I'm starting to witness myself making two separate decisions simultaneously like that, then I think we're in trouble - even if it was such a small one. We've moved on again, and this time I have no idea where we're going. Away from home, and that forsaken, blood-stained hotel that we ran to, that's for sure.

I don't think it can be stopped. I've been looking at everything He's doing, all this "dimensional bleeding" insanity, all the frenzy He's inspiring in His Touched, all the people crumbling under the pressure, all the death and destruction and anger. And I'm scared. I'll be honest about that. I'm scared, because I know we can't beat Him, Ben and I. I'm in too deep to be standing and fighting without losing it all, and all that leaves is running. But I have a new plan, one that doesn't involve feats I cannot accomplish. One with layer after layer of redundancy and contingency as standard. One that I can't share. They're watching the blog - He's watching the blog, in a roundabout enough way.

But when we're safe, when I've worked my magic, when everything has failed, time and time again - and I find myself still alive, having planned for it all - then you'll know. When Ben and I are safe, I'll tell you all how I did it, because by then it won't even matter.

Sorry, But I Got Bored

This is fun, watching everybody play with this new computer. I just wish I could see the hardware, review whatever databases it's using to operate and have a poke around in the programming for whatever it's running to do all this. It seems fascinatingly complex, for a text-based operating system. It looks like it can even interpret poorly spelled and ambiguously phrased input, which is remarkable to say the least. It's at very least a marvel of software engineering, just on account of the kind of things you could do with a computer and some software like that. I might consider stepping over a body or two if it got my hands on this thing and see what the actual interface is like, I'll be honest.

But that's not important. It did give me an idea, though. I thought maybe I could run a couple of scenarios by it to determine our next course of action. It would just help if I knew how the decision making processes worked and if they were trustworthy. To be honest, I don't have a lot of faith in it, seeing as it looks a little like it confused Ben and I while analyzing us, thinking I'm more stable than Ben. It's not like that damn music might sway my vote for stability past his more intelligent horror in His presence.

I'm not really supposed to be blogging, but the scars are definitely sufficiently scabbed and healing that as long as I keep from typing too fast or hard nothing will be any worse off than when I started. They're definitely not going to tear open if I'm gentle, so Ben will just have to deal. Plus, it's just too much fun trying to decide what I should ask the thing next, or if maybe talking to it might not be a good idea. Now that I think about it, it definitely not one where everybody can see you asking it about your plans while a small subset of everybody really wouldn't mind spoiling them. I can hardly ask the thing where Ben and I should go hide right out in public, now can I? Then again, I wonder if perhaps I can send in requests for calculations or analysis by email. If only I knew how it worked.

Ben's an insy whinsy bit of a fool, and he's apparently incapable of listenning either. And I know I'm not supposed to be typing because it's bad for my stitches and healing in general, but I'm too drunk for it to hurt so it's aokay.

And so, without further adeu, I bring you the unmolested rendition of the last three halves of my newest piece of work, inspired by this increasingly shit situatiuon we find ourselves in:


Minstrel's cut her own face off
The Jester's noose draws tight
Old Zerosage returns from death
To stalk us in the night

And who the fuck is nocturne, eh?
And what the fuck's his game?
Through Reach the Boss has trolled us all
Consequences never be the same

Robert might'bve been the chance
But we all know how that ends
So let's just watch him find His name
So we can all get fucked again!

Oh poetry, oh noetry
Shout bingo, wont you dear!?
For while we drink and while I sign
Old He "that is" draws near

Oh yes, He comes to screw my plans
My theories effing A
And if it keeps right at this rate
I give myself a day!

And I can't give yo uthe rest of it because it doesn't count as forshadowing if you don't get the proportions right or just plain spell it out either, and my plan's not going to work unless i can get the story perfect and perfect stories don't spell shit out first they foreshadow. It has to fit, and that is too damned hard to do, I'll have you know. Too damned hard. I've had to cut back sooooooooooooooo much and now it's like the contingency to the contingency to the contingency to the backup plan's backup plan.

And yoiu know why? It's not your fault or anything, but there's not enough room with everybody else crowding about, and all the heroics get watered down and instead of Zeke Stramn getting enough sapce to save us all he end up getting relegated Mystic instead and instead of the dearest Sage fo Nothing sacrificing himself to end it all, we all work enough magic with our heads to make the whole thing piontless because you won't give him enough room to work with. Hell, if they can't do it, fricken pillars of awesomethat they are then I sure as hell won't be able to beat Him, will I? So contingency F-7 and a half or something. That one might work. There's room enough for half a plan.

And I just have to say sorry to past me for skipping out on your promise and posting up something that could possible be misconstrued as poetry if you squint and ignore the fact it's a drinking song. It's how drunk me rolls, and anyway I have a better plan than you so stuff it we're running with it!

Sorry to keep you waiting

But since my idiot brother took the advice that alcohol would defeat rampant paranoia and general directionless terror to heart, it seems I'm still in charge of telling everybody what happened.

We stayed in one place too long again, and I've finally realised what I was so stupidly missing that meant The New Girl was always catching up with us. The Operator Symbol skews the time it takes for whatever part of Him that directs her to find us, and I'm incapable of drawing one without bringing Him down upon us. But that's another story.

We were both asleep, right at about five am where it overlaps for a couple of hours before Ben gets up at seven or so, when The New Girl kicked the door to our room in - which is, incidentally, the first point I've found in favour of staying in more expensive hotels. Ben was a whole lot closer to awake than I was, and jumped right up, but he tells me she just pushed him aside and into a wall and lunged at me. Needless to say, I wasn't quite capable of getting from half-awake to defending myself quick enough, and she had a knife of her own. I was tangled up in the sheets, and she was absolutely insane and I couldn't get my blade to flick out without getting stabbed in the eye or something.

I don't know how long we fought, but there was so much blood all over me, and my arms felt like they were being torn apart. Eventually she wasn't even using the knife. She just tore at the cuts until her hands were covered with blood and I was starting to feel lightheaded from struggling so much and losing all that blood. And then she stopped, and for a moment I thought maybe she'd proved a point about how her threats were real and was leaving.

But then I felt it. I felt Him coming. I struggled out of the tangle of sheets, bleeding everywhere as I got to my feet and saw my brother writhing around on the floor in apparent agony, which I'm told was a result of a rather underhanded kick to a rather vulnerable area, if you catch my drift.

She was drawing The Operator Symbol from my blood, laughing maniacally as she did. It was a full on, completely deranged slasher flick laugh like you've never heard before, and it was all made worse by that paradoxical feeling of creeping dread and growing calm that meant He was coming. The symbol she was drawing wasn't very big, and it was awfully streaky, but it was obvious what it was and that's apparently enough.

I tried to stop her, but the sheets were all over the ground and I was bleeding everywhere and woozy as shit from the blood loss and I fell over like the useless idiot I am. And then she collapsed right in front of me and started groaning in agony like she always does when He shows up. And He was just there. He was so tall, towering above the three of us lying there in various states of agony and He was in my head and all I could see was Ben dying, over and over again. The blood all over me was his, not mine and I was responsible or I hadn't tried hard enough to save him or he'd killed himself because of me. The pain was gone from my arms and the wounds weren't real anymore but there was just so much agony. I couldn't breathe. My heart wanted to escape my chest and there was something shifting in the back of my head.

And then there was bliss. Pure, unadulterated bliss. I couldn't hear my brother shouting at me to run, I couldn't see him scramble across the bed to try to pick me up and get me away from that thing that is He, I couldn't feel the agony of countless open wounds all over my arms. I could hear the singing, though, the beautiful choir of souls caught in rapture. I could see Him, though, towering over us all from His seat on high. I could feel the loving warmth radiating from His heart to envelope the world. I just wanted to go home, back to those warm, loving arms.

I don't know how long it took for me to come back to myself, but I do know the first thing I did was vomit, and since I hadn't eaten for ages because I'd been alseep, it was mostly just stomach acid - and that shit burns. I mean, I still want to throw up.

He hadn't even noticed I'd vomited all over the floor of the car, he was that caught up in himself. I scared the hell out of him when I called his name, though, because apparently I'd been ranting and raving about the light of my God and a whole score of other crazy shit while he'd tried to get me away, and then once he'd gotten me into the car and done his best with my first aid kit in the boot and actually escaped the damned hotel I just fainted.

So once we'd figured out I probably wasn't going to die from the blood loss, on account of the fact I was awake again, we went back to the hotel and got all of our shit out of the room before we ran into another fiasco with the cops all over us again and cleared the hell out of there. We're getting the hell out of the state before we head to a hospital though, because as much as the bandages stop the bleeding and the neurofen kills some of the pain, I think I need stitches if these cuts are ever going to heal. Like, badly.

That took far too long and I need to change my bandages again because I'm bleeding everywhere. On that note, Ben'll probably be in charge of updating from now on, because writing fucking hurts.

I think I'm going to vomit

In like so many wyas. My hands are shaking and I've lost so much blood. We had to change hotels and everything, and all that blood all allvoer our room means the cops will be onto us something major. But thats why we use my cards buecase I'm smart like that and I don't have a house anymore.

And all this typings making me bleed again. I'll let Ben tyep this shit up.

New hotel, New game

"Which means there's a reason a bunch of super-powered freaks are running around and it's not because He needs them."

That reason is He is smarter than we are. We're supposed to be the ones weaving the stories, melting the facts of reality into something more palatable over time, and instead He's the one really pulling the strings, keeping us occupied elsewhere while He works whatever game He's working uninterrupted. Is Redlight's supposed rebellion just another part of His plan? Did Zero sacrifice himself because He wished it so, before the Sage of Nothing became a real threat? How far does the deception go, and are we living a lie right now, just one layer higher in a ring of false worlds?

Dear god I sound pretentious. I think I'm going to go hit my brother in the back of his head with a pillow, just so I can stop taking myself so seriously for a moment. Oh, and this one has free internet!

I can't sleep anymore

I feel like I'm being hit in the head with a shovel every time my heart beats, but I just can't do it. He's there, waiting for me to close my eyes and He's there making sure I never do and I just want to sleep. I bought some pills from the pharmacy, but they're not working and I'm afraid if I take even a fraction more than the recommended dosage I'll suddenly find myself overdosing for no reason whatsoever on non-prescription drugs, if that's even possible.

I had so many plans. God I did. Whispered secrets and ancient artifacts and sacred temples. One of them had to be real. The Heel's not the only mystical object of ancient power they rave about, you know. There are other Trees and other creatures that stalk the night, not just His, and not just Him. The only problem is all of the Gods we could turn to are dead - all the real ones, anyway. 


We've still got the Abrahamic faiths, but there's too many splintered cells of revolution and division to create anything of substance there. There might be a chance in Asia, but He's everywhere there. I don't know why, but He's a lot more subtle and a lot less predatory in the East, like we wronged Him somehow, so long ago. If the Noppera-bō and the Mujina are faces of His, with all the irony that statement contains, then there's no chance we'd survive with Him already waiting and so ingrained into the history and culture.


God the monitor is hurting my eyes. I think I have to stop. I'm going to try again, but it's not going to work. It feels like I might never sleep again. Such a small luxury and a grand irony that He'll never find me there again, at this rate at least. Oh how I wish we'd never dreamed like this, sometimes.

I've got some bad news and some bad news

He was there, in the closet. What's worse was that I was expecting a Labyrinth and He already knew that. The very moment I opened the door, everything just collapsed around me. I was falling, falling in the dark while all was He. God, I'm such a fool. All those people on the Tree gives Him so much room to think, so much space to work with. I've been on that Tree, oh yes I have hung for days and days and days and He saw me there and He looked into me and he knew what I do before I'd even decided to do it.

Trash, that's what it is. Theories and plans and ideas and the corpses of a thousand dead Gods. I should've known I'd never be able to protect Ben, never be able to find the right plans or ideas or leverage. After all of that, I thought I could outsmart Him. Yeah fucking right. Of course I'm not special, of course I'm just being screwed over. I don't get special Conduit powers or fucking Revenant buddies looking out for me. Just mindraped by a faceless alien abomination from a place beyond the comprehension of man. That's why I went. I knew He was going to be there, and even though I couldn't think it, didn't know it, I was operating for reasons I didn't understand because He's still in my head and I was going to make a deal, after all my clever plans fell apart and all my leverage evaporated into nothing. Me for him, keep Ben safe and make a swap.

I wonder, sometimes, if He's playing a long game and I'm not even the target. He made it clear enough falling there that I'm not important in all of this. I'm only here because I'm essential, however insignificant a requirements He has of me.

God. I was going to be so much more coherent than this. I'm trying to hold it together for Ben, but he wasn't there. He didn't Fall forever with nothing but a pathetic little rope to save him. Oh, thank God we brought that rope. I was going to get all meta on the game and take a ball of string into the maze, before it all went to hell. The symbol is, of course, the thing so it's not like I was going to use it properly. It gets you out because it's rope not because it shows the way, and it would've worked. I could tell. The abyss stares into you long enough and you get to do some staring back of your own before you decide you want to bash your head against the wall until your brain bleeds out your ears and your eyes stop working.

That's all noise, you have to understand. That's my brain screaming in agony as I try to comprehend what happened to me there. I've gotten it all out now and I think I can attain something close to coherency from here. So please, don't worry. I'm close enough to okay that nobody needs to panic.

We found the house easily enough, being that we'd lived there and nothing at all had changed in the town since we'd left so long ago. It's literally gone absolutely nowhere and changed not at all, but that's alright. It was empty, and that really should've been the first warning sign. One house in the entire street for sale, and it's ours, as if this whole thing has been laid out just to make everything easy. It was obviously a trap, but we went in anyway. We (or rather Ben) broke a window to get in, and of course I made a bee-line for the closet in our old room. I don't know what either of us were thinking at the time, but it all seemed so much like the right thing to do.

He was there the moment I opened the closet, and the weirdest thing was that there was no warning. The house went from that stark weirdness of a building completely void of furniture to downright fucking horrifying in a blink of an eye without so much as a by-your-leave. He was rooted into the walls of the closet and three or four meters taller than the closet should've allowed but at the same time kind of just tall enough to fit. He was part of the closet and formed like a mangrove tree, all twisted and knobbly, but with roots burrowed into the walls where the branches of His arms should've been. He strained to move towards me with this horrifying tearing sound, and the mass of twisted limbs just kind of shifted and stretched, like it was made out of plastic, or some sick approximation of flesh.

He had the teeth again, and the madman glare without the eyes. I don't know how He does it, but I can feel them watching me, boring into my soul and tearing every pretense I've built up over so long to nothing. He was looking at me, looking into me, and he was doing it all without a face - just a thousand rows of teeth. It's been so long since I've seen those teeth in my dreams, but I can still remember what it felt like to be eaten by them. Have you ever stabbed yourself with a pin or something like a sewing needle? I'm not sure if I was the only child who had a morbid interest in what pain was like right up until I started feeling it, but I can't've been the only person to be stabbed by a needle. It's not the pain that gets you though, it's the pressure. The way each point just kind of crushed the skin and flesh a little before it splits through and tears you apart.

Ben tells me that's about when I full on lost it - right when I opened the door and saw Him. It's the last thing I remember, losing control as He just kind of shifted towards us, grinning that maniac's grin. From there I can't recount what happened physically, because I wasn't all there any more. I'm told I collapsed as He sunk His teeth into my foot and dragged me into the closet. Ben had one end of the rope for our oh-so-clever Labyrinth plan and I had the other, so even though all he could see in the closet now was black, he just held on and kept pulling until eventually he managed to drag my unconscious body back out.

While all of that was happening, I was in the darkness, listening to His song, having my soul weighed and a thousand other unpleasant things. I think for part of it I was remembering the twisted memories he uses to talk to me. I can catch snatches here and there of me killing Mom, and Ben, and Dad and every pet I've ever owned, and of Him, sitting where Dad sits, or standing behind my mother as she comforts me, or playing catch with Ben or holding onto his bike as he tries to learn to ride it, but it's all impossible to hold onto and I don't really want to try. But that was all secondary to whatever it is that passes for conversation between us. I've never been good with dialogue, I'm half insane right now and He doesn't actually speak, but it's all burned in my brain so I might as well write it down.

~~*~~

I remember the car crash. He is standing on the side of the road watching, as Sidekick dies and James is killed (possibly, I don't really know). Or I remember it again, and instead of driving into a tree, it is Him I crash into. I'm not quite sure.

Clever. He says, in that way that he doesn't. He almost sounds like He is proud of me.

I think I ask Him something like "What do you want?", which was very much not what I'd planned. In response I get about a thousand flashes of people with their organs so carefully bagged, and forests totally devoid of human life. I see fire tearing apart cities, and fog creeping into cracks in houses where the last few people shelter in fear. I see His branches lifted to the sky, tearing apart the stars and the moon, rending all that is and will be apart into nothing.

He doesn't understand deals. You can't write up a contract and have Him sign it, but He understands that I understand deals, and that I know I have betrayed Him, and it's enough.

Payment. He says. I want payment. Or, You have wronged me, and I will make you suffer for it. Something akin to that. It's not really important seeing as he doesn't say it at all.

"I can work with payment. We can make another deal."

He chuckles when I suggest bargaining. I know He does, because I can still here all the children laughing with Him, shouting and mocking.

No. You had your chance. Now I will take everything.


I laugh here. I don't remember why. For some reason the things He was forcing into my brain were amusing me. I don't know why, but I remember what He was trying to say. They were pictures. Thousands and thousands of pictures of my brother killing me, or me killing him. The one I remember the most clearly, the one that stands out in my mind and the one that amused me so much is of Ben setting fire to our hotel room as I hang myself with the bedsheets. I don't know why it was supposed to be funny.

I said something here in response, but I've forgotten what. Everything else has a cutting kind of clarity to it, but I don't remember what I said. I do remember that it made Him furious, though, because after that He just rages for what feels like forever. The closest analogy I can think of for it is a dog going absolutely apeshit on somebody, tearing and ripping and just sinking his teeth into them and shaking, but that's not even really how it felt.

You are wrong. All you plans are for nothing. I will destroy all that you love before I take you. He says. Or something. No! There is no place to hide from which I will not find you both. almost fits too. I'm not so sure. It's hard to transcribe when I don't know what I said.

"Fine." I say, suddenly feeling the pull of a rope I didn't know I was holding. "If there's no deal I can make, then come and fucking get me, if you can ever catch me again."

Again? He asks, amused and confused by my words. Why would I need to find you again? I have you now. 

I was talking absolute shit, of course, and He knew it, but it kind of helped or I just have excellent timing and I said that right before Ben managed to pull me out, because I don't remember anything else but black until I wake up on the side of the road, with Ben shaking me, begging me to wake up and crying like the little girl he is.

~~*~~

And so here we are. In an undisclosed location chosen solely for it's internet access (I have several webcomics to keep up-to-date on people, that sort of thing is very important), trying to figure out a way to get back into the hotel and get all our stuff without alerting the cops. Because while I was having a chat with Him, it seems the New Girl was making a police report about a beating and an attempted rape at the local police station, sporting several impressive bruises to back her story up. I don't know how she found us, but I bet He was involved, and I don't know how she explained not being a local to the cops, but they apparently bought the story. The cops have had a car parked outside the hotel pretty much constantly since we got back from the house, and when they're not there watching the place, she is, with a phone in hand.

So yeah. We're basically fucked. But there is one small sliver of good news. The road I woke up on the side of was the one that marks the boundary to the Crown Lands near my house, and Ben says I came to the moment he dragged me across it, so I'm not so sure it doesn't provide some sort of protection against Him like it used to when I was a kid. There are a lot of stories about Sacred Woods or other Sanctified Places, even if James usually called them less complimentary names, but I didn't actually believe they existed until now. I'm not such a fan of ever going back, though, because spending enough time in them dilutes whatever keeps them pure, seeing as we bring thoughts of Him with us. But I guess it's good to know it's there, for emergencies or something, seeing as Servants can't get in.

Frankly, it figures

Maybe it's all true, everything I've heard. Maybe Redlight was the sinful son of Adam. And also the anonymous nobody who first encountered the Slender Man, aeons ago. Maybe he did build the temple to Him, wherever it lies forgotten. Hell, every story I've ever heard about him was probably true, once, for one of him.  It's a troubling thought. If there is a game he's playing and it involves Him, then we're all fucked. All of us. The Touched are like a lifeline of normality for Him. With them hanging from His Tree, he can kind of understand how people think, and he isn't so disgusted by us, so angry and violent. They keep Him watching, learning and growing. Without us, all He is, is wrong, and all He can do is what He does best.

And if Redlight goes, a lot of my former colleagues might go with Him. It's obvious enough that anybody with enough of themselves left to want out would have the best chance then, and losing Redlight might weaken Him enough - temporarily, that is - that they'd be able to break free.

I don't like it. Redlight's playing a game that's most probably going to end with everybody you've every talked about Him to dead. You can't game Him. He doesn't understand the rules of the world like we do. And He's been in enough heads to understand betrayal and it's appropriate response.

On a much, much brighter note, I think we've been here too long. It's a middle of nowhere town halfway between another two middle of nowhere towns, but it has free internet in the hotel and I can't bring myself to leave. So we're going tomorrow, whether I want to or not. I can feel whatever's coming getting closer and nothing good is going to happen once it gets here.

Or maybe Robert's just crazy.

Redlight, Robert and Revenants

First thing's first - what's been happening lately? Absolutely nothing. We've been heading back south towards our old hometown just for somewhere to drive to, since direction helps this kind of thing, and there's been no indication whatsoever we're being followed. Which is terrible, terrible news, because it means whoever is following us knows me. That's literally all the news about us.

So Redlight.

The guy's a celebrity. Seriously. Half of my old colleagues had crushes on him, and that includes a good deal of ostensibly straight males. He's like the Jesus of the Touched community, with the added benefit of still being alive. The stories I've heard about him are obviously false, because, well, I'm almost certain he's never been to Australia and half of them are told by people who insist they've heard it from the man himself. I wouldn't worry about his 'mystical origins' if I were you, even if he is a Revenant. Still, I've heard told he's the only living descendant of Cain, the sinful son of Adam. There are stories we used to tell that say he's the first man to have ever seen Him or the first person to build a temple to a quiet forest spirit that would rather have been left alone but for some quiet worship from a few faithful followers, who was rewarded for his devotion with eternal life in service of a changing God.

It's all bullshit, of course. He may not know himself, but he's clearly Jay. It's too perfect not to be true. That's the way this works, you see - we end up telling stories, because stories feed Him while He sleeps, when our minds can't. First, He corrupts them, turns them into something more palatable - the facts change over time and we forget that this didn't happen and that did. Eventually what once was, is no longer.

So whoever Redlight was when he made that first post on Robert's blog doesn't really matter. Because it fits best if he's Jay. One day soon, when Redlight's story comes to an end along with Robert's, there'll be some small hint. We'll argue about it, quibble on this and that point and get caught up with the tiny inconsistencies that always occur when a person tells stories about themselves. But eventually, years after blogging about all of this has become trite and overdone, or after somebody discovers that you get left alone a whole lot more often if you stop telling people about all of this, then as long as He endures (which He will), someday somebody will stumble upon the circuit and discover it has changed since anyone last looked at it.

He'll have won every engagement, for one thing. As long as He outlives the civilization He haunts, that's what happens. The cold hard scientific facts of the past fade into obscurity until all that's left are stories in which the monster wins - because that's what He did so why shouldn't the histories reflect that at every turn? And if he makes the cut and remains something He remembers, then there'll be Redlight, perhaps a central figure, perhaps an unimportant footnote. But I'd bet my life he'll be Jay, because that would make the best story.

Anyway Robert and Revenants and I'll leave you all to tear my theory apart with the kind of scrutiny only your fellow Heretic is capable of. If I'm ever stuck in a repeating loop of imprisonment and insanity like that and you're given the chance to put me out of my misery, then put me out of my misery. For God's sake just let me die with some dignity. I don't care if it's Redlight or Him Himself that's offering whatever 'deal' will end up killing me, I'd really rather prefer to die.

Oh, and Robert, If you ever come across our little blog here, I'd stay out of the Forest Paths from now on, if I were you. It's kind of like taking a shortcut through a Police Station to escape from the cops. Eventually somebody catches on and locks the back door.

That's about it.

Oh, and before I forget, since I've said the word now and that kind of thing always invites speculation, I've never met a Revenant in my life. I'm still struggling to accept that they're real. When He's crawling around in your head shouting twisted memories at you constantly and trying to explode your brain by sharing His twisted versions of an emotion, you do kind of get an impression on how He works. And besides from being so terrifying your brain erases any memory of it as soon as it can, it also gives me the feeling Revenants are just not his style. Which means there's a reason a bunch of super-powered freaks are running around and it's not because He needs them. Which unsettles me.

That doesn't mean I'm not carrying around a can of mace. Super-senses aren't really the best idea for your elite warriors, seeing as it kind of makes anything capable of incapacitating a normal person because of sensory overload into a viable murder weapon. I've been trying to convince Ben to fiddle around with the car alarm to install a switch for it, since he knows a bit about electronics and that thing fricken hurts to listen to with normal ears and I'm not a huge fan of my chances of successfully employing the mace if it come to it, but he's not such a fan of messing with the car, which I guess makes sense.

And, uh, that's about it. And I mean it this time.

Alright then

I can't say an awful lot, because James knows people who know the address of where we're staying at the moment and I'm not sure if he's still alive or if he's told somebody about the blog, but suffice to say I discovered some things yesterday that basically give us a week as of my arrival before we have to be out of here. To keep it simple I figure we'll be leaving Saturday night or the very first moment I see something I don't like. Fortunately my nocturnal habits have been paying off since Ben used to get up every morning at five for a jog. Insanity like that is inexcusable since there really shouldn't be a five in the morning, but it makes sleeping in shifts really, really easy since we're practically pre-programmed for it.

I'll tell you all about what happened once we've left.

Also all that worry about self-fulfilling prophecy was bullshit. "Ben is not safe anymore" was about right. I'll see if I can make Ben introduce himself tonight or tomorrow, but he's kind of absolutely terrified of making a blog becasue "whah, whah, whah posting makes it real like I'm admitting it or something whine, whine, whine. NO FACE!"

I might be taking the piss. But it is a whole lot more hilarious when you're here.

Ben's in his room, freaking the fuck out

Lots of swear words and "That is not allowed!" And, of course, "No face! Where the hell is his face!?"

On the plus side, he let me make him a contributor to the blog.

Edit: And I changed all your passwords Ben, since Andrew is about as stupid as Benjamin was for me, way back when. I also got you a nice little display pic that fits with my theme, because I'm OCD like that. Remind me to let you know what your password is, otherwise I'm going to forget.

Just a thought

You do all know that by making plans, and joining groups, and identifying as people defined by how they relate to Him that you're making Him stronger, right? The worst part of this is the 'resurgence' (I use the word lightly, since the few instances I've seen hardly constitute a resurgence) of titles I've seen lately. I dunno, maybe it is a resurgence - it's starting small, but these sorts of things always do.

It's not like you even need the brackets to have a title, or we'd all be sweet since there's probably only about three people that still use them. In His world the symbol is the thing, but that doesn't stop the thing from also being the thing. The brackets make it the symbol, dress it up and make it easy to spot, turn it into something to cling to while your sanity slips away and you become His, but you still have a title when you give yourself a name and a corresponding role and let it define you and how you interact with everybody else. M said it best when he said that Taken are just shells filled with His Will following what few patterns are left from their old life, and a title is simply another pattern.

And let me let you all in on a secret - the more patterns you have, the easier it is for you to slip. Anything that you do 'just because' or out of habit or in an attempt to maintain an image is the kind of place He slips into, because you'll keep doing it without questioning it even if it's stopped helping you and started helping Him. The worst part is you don't even notice at first - it just kind of happens without your say. Dressing yourself up as something more than just a person being followed by a very poor impression of a person and all of His friends tends to backfire when He take a liking to your clothes.

If you want my advice, don't give yourself a job unless the very definition of it is 'keeping away from Him and staying alive'. Anything else has too much wiggle room, which is to say it has wiggle room in the first place. If your job is to collect information about Him, well, eventually He's going to convince you that there's more to collect on His side of the game. Hell, that's not even hard to do since it's the truth. If your job is to take risks so that you can protect and help teach and equip others with what you learn, then you've obviously never heard the term 'slippery slope'. You're either doing everything you can to keep sane and survive, or you're slowly but surely committing suicide of one form or another.

That's not to say you shouldn't wonder about how He works or not try to draw conclusions from what you've experienced. Not doing so would be stupid. Deliberately provoking Him to learn more just happens to be stupider. I've seen the aftermath one too many times. I used to look after them. I guess what I'm trying to say is that you don't have to understand Him to survive. You do have to be mad to understand Him. Which would you prefer?

Also the first person to mention myself as an exception gets a slap upside the head, because you're clearly missing the entire point of my little tantrum here. I'm the first to recommend begging for your life when He has you cornered, but not getting cornered works a whole lot better, especially if you've been aggravating Him from the moment you met Him just so you can understand Him better. Begging tends not to help by that point.

I never got you guys. Seriously.

Fricken Trains

Couldn't make it to Ben's.

I've been trying some rather obscure rituals in lieu of The Operator Symbol, which I drew half of to confirm the factor causing its failure is most likely me. None of the rituals that didn't involve the entrails of children stopped the growing sense of dread/calm (which is the strangest feeling I've ever experienced, on a side note) that started once I'd drawn the circle. I have a little problem with gutting children so for now at least I have to stick with staying awake, moving all night and sleeping on the train tomorrow. Bought a tonne of chocolate coated coffee beans so I'm not worried about keeping awake this time.

Anyway, it's damn cold sitting on the pavement out here so I'm going to go, but I might swing by later tonight since Starbucks keeps their internet running after they close (score!). I might write up some things that have been bugging me, now that I'm allowed to be helpful in my discourse. Expect a rant later tonight/tomorrow morning, if I can be bothered (or am forced) to leave the relative warmth of the train station and walk all the way back here.

Edit: Who likes my new theme, by the way? I figured given all this time off I've decided to take and the problems with The Operator Symbol I've encountered that's it's probably time for a change.

I really should've seen this coming

I put The Operator Symbol up and He was there almost immediately. I could feel the pull in my chest as all my anxiety, worry and fear just ebbed away. I suddenly wasn't worried about whether I would be too late to save my brother or if I'd turn up to find him still as Blind as ever and be responsible for opening his eyes. I didn't care about the fact my whole body hurt too much to run anywhere and how much that would undermine my chances of survival. I felt safe.

Of course, regardless of how pleasant it all felt and how much I longed to just get off the roof for no reason, I still realised what was going on. It was a strange feeling, being incapable of terror, feeling so safe and warm when I knew objectively I should've been beyond terrified. The Operator Symbol doesn't work for me. Hell, it's worse than that - it lets Him in and draws Him closer whenever I draw it, unless by some fluke of circumstances this was an isolated incident. When I realised, I had a brief moment when I wanted to punch M in the face, but then I remembered he'd actually said - multiple times - that all he was doing was cataloging what worked for him in the hope it would help others, not offering any sort of guarantee. What's worse is my head doesn't hurt anymore and my nose has stopped bleeding when He's around, which I'm sure are all symptoms of Him trying to make the transition all the more comfortable and easy for me.

I don't know if I'm going to be able to make it to my brother, I don't know if I'm going to be too late and I don't know if my reaching him is going to be the reason he's no longer safe. What if this is all a self-fulfilling prophecy?

Oh, and before I forget, I really do appreciate the sentiment, but it's rather difficult for somebody who doesn't have a passport to travel internationally. Nor do I have the 100 points of ID necessary to get a passport, being that practically everything I own by the way of identification has expired since this all started. I actually wouldn't be surprised if I've been declared legally dead, seeing as the state my place was in when I 'disappeared' would've made abduction and/or murder a fairly logical conclusion, what with my blood all over my bedroom. Though I guess that's the kind of thing Ben would've told me (I think). Anyway, international travel is out for the moment, at least.

The train's leaving in ten minutes (third for the day), so I've got to go. If public transport is forgiving, I'll be at Ben's tomorrow, though weekends are never good for that so I guess we'll see.

It worked

Sidekick's dead. There's a tree where his stomach used to be.

Not so sure about James - he wasn't too visibly hurt so he might have just been unconscious. Didn't check too hard for a pulse because I had to get out of there before He showed up.

By the way, crashed the car (if you missed that). I think I might've bruised 90% of my body and I can no longer turn my head to the left at will. Picked a car where I was the only one with an airbag and thought I was being smart making sure it didn't hit me in the nose. Not so much. Otherwise I'm more or less good.

Left the laptop in the bag with all our clothes to give it some bounce, so it's fine. I'll be seeing my brother soon. It should only take a few days on trains and such to get there.

Going now. They're closing soon anyway, but I'm being overly cautious for the moment and I already feel like I've been staying in one place too long. I'll sleep tomorrow morning on the train, I guess.

Can you believe I used to love the night, after I'd gotten over 'those terrible dreams' and before all this went down? It's almost funny now.

I went to the Fireworks tonight because I had nothing better to do

He was there. Just standing there watching from way off in the distance under a lamp post, all alone. It wasn't too crowded where I was because I'd chosen a further away and higher up place to watch from than right in the middle of the action, but there was still plenty of people, and He was just standing there in the pool of light, all alone. He looked as human as I'd ever seen Him, though His arms were still far too long and just tapered off to a little curled point and He was almost too tall to fit under the light, but that wasn't even the worst part.

I could hear Him singing. That's not even the right word, but it's the closest you could get and it's what I'm going with. It wasn't exactly the kind of thing you hear - I more felt it, but it was a kind of weird hum or a whine that makes your teeth hurt, only they just tingled instead and it wasn't actually doing anything to my teeth, if that makes sense.

Reading it back I don't know if that captures it properly, but it's the best I can do. There was a tune, too, kind of off-beat and low, though I know I'll never remember it properly.

The worst part, though, was that I wasn't scared. It felt like coming home listening to that song, like there was a pull in my chest dragging me towards Him, or down, or somewhere not quite on this plane of existence that I can only describe as one second ago and a little to the left, even if that makes absolutely no sense.

It's started - of that I'm sure. Today's the day I get offered a promotion, and regardless of my say in it, I doubt it will be long before I accept it. So, there are some obvious things I'm going to have to do.

James once said "Safety can Only be fOund in eterNal service.", and I think I know what he meant, listening to that song - I think he was referring to tonight and the events of the past few days, after which I'm sure there'll be little time for what's left of my sanity. I'm going to convince James to let me steal a car tomorrow, so we can complete our trip a little earlier and let us get back home quicker so I don't lose it somewhere unfamiliar.

Worst. 24. Hours. Ever.

I am going to kill James one day. He got me up at seven o'clock yesterday morning. Seven. I went to bed at three and he gets me up at seven so we can go chase after some two-bit Heretic who had gotten more than enough sleep for the night and didn't feel like his insides were desperately trying to become his outsides.

Needless to say, we didn't catch him right away because I started to get dizzy spells after about twenty seconds of running and then threw up, which surprisingly made me feel a whole lot better and really, really hungry. I've never been the greatest runner anyway, and the two empty bottles of vodka back at what passes for home base at the moment certainly weren't helping matters. Sidekick, of course, was charging through his hangover like a boss (the guy also drank me under the table last night, which is just so incredibly unfair) and saw fit to ignore both James and I when we told him to stop. I did so through/in between vomiting, so I guess it's possible he misheard me, but James was perfectly alright when he was saying it, if a little pissed off.

So once I was able to move and James had finished screaming at me about how much he'd like to kill me and how much trouble I was, being unfit for His touch and thus incapable of acting as I should, we set out to find Sidekick. James got that 'I know which way to go how scary am I?' look, and marched off to the train station, from where we caught a train. Luckily, there was time enough between trains to go get some food and some breath mints, because man was I hungry.

And, um, next comes the part you won't enjoy, because we found Sidekick, and Sidekick had obviously found the runner, because he had the look that Touched get when they've been around Him quite recently, and the runner was nowhere to be found.

But that of course is not the worst part, because what started all of this was my brother getting back from Europe. I may or may not have had a plan to stab Sidekick in the neck and James in the stomach all within perhaps five seconds of time while Sidekick was asleep so that I could go pick him up and get the hell out of dodge, but of course there's a faceless monstrosity that apparently has access to all of my thoughts, because He was there before I could even fold out my knife, and He was angry.

He knew. I haven't told anybody - I didn't even tell you guys I was planning on killing them and running as soon as my brother got back - and He knew.

So now I don't know If James was just being the usual lunatic when he kept dropping those hints, and I feel like there's something skittering around in the back of my head watching everything I do and I can't get the image of Him and all those branches eating the sky out of my head and I feel like I need to throw up again.

But I'm okay, I guess. For now. My brother's back home, at least, so I guess there'll probably be more emails from here on in and I guess if by some miracle I'm able to avoid the boss stepping in whenever I try to quit then at least he's a little closer. So um, yeah, that's pretty much it.

I kinda wish I had it in me to write that all up so it was better and more entertaining to read. I swear there must be something wrong with me.

Do you want to know why he puts on that face, wears that suit?

It's to make us feel better. He's being nice.

Excuse we while I go throw up

Ugh. Haven't slept in hours

Edit: That title would make a whole lot more sense as "Ugh. Haven't been able to get to sleep all night", which is what I meant to say but failed to because I was half asleep when I started writing this yesterday (incidentally, I'm having trouble sleeping tonight, too, in case the late hour didn't tip you off). Hopefully you all got the picture.

There's so totally wi-fi across the road from where we've broken into, but it keeps dropping in and out so I don't know how much I'll get done before James wakes up and pulls me away from my 'Heretical pursuits'. Travelling's really been messing with my head lately and I haven't heard from Ben in forever, so forgive me if this entire thing is massively disjointed and train-of-thought in style. Not that I'm panicking. The guy's doing a tour of Europe - I don't exactly expect an email everyday.

The last one I did get was worrying in the extreme, though, so maybe I'm not panicking and just worried. Apparently, while driving through Germany he got massively creeped out by the Black Forest and a whole bunch of foggy mountains and bare trees in Italy and Switzerland. They're the only bad parts of the trip he's mentioned so far, and I don't think anybody'll miss the obvious implication. For anybody living under a rock, I've heard tell that the Boss's head office is in Germany so if there's anywhere He could show up without prior warning or cause then it's definitely there. I'm not going to panic and do anything stupid because there's absolutely nothing I can do so far away and whilst being watched 24/7, but I want it on record that I'm not enjoying the situation I'm in at the moment. I guess I just have to wait, even if it's killing me.

On another note, I think Hosozukuri (you might know her as the (Minstrel), if you're into the 'Core Theory') is getting worse, which is a damn shame because I've always loved her music. Depression's a symptom just like the lost time and atypical behaviour (3341, in this case) and it's all piling up faster than I'd like. That and the fact some colleague of mine is hanging around doesn't bode well. Not that I've met the colleague - since Hosozukuri probably isn't even Australian. There's no way to tell if she's experiencing any other symptoms, though, because you never know what a person's leaving out of their blog. It's not looking good at any rate. Like I said, I love her work and it's a damn shame.

Um, that's all I wanted to write about, I think, apart from a headache that I hope to God is the result of far too little sleep for a week and not an upcoming 'performance review'. Oh yeah - on that note, the overwhelming urge to write that made me start the blog has gone. It disappeared a little after the Solstice, in fact. I'm not going to up and leave or anything so don't panic, I just didn't think to mention it until now because it's not all that important. I figure it's something you all deserve to know anyway, though. Full disclosure and all that.

Apart from that, I promise I'm writing up everything I've done while away from the Internet, I swear. It's just a whole lot of rather boring stuff interrupted occasionally by an interesting anecdote or two, so it's taking a bit to get through and cut down to something that's still interesting.