In this line of work, you come to expect a certain...fluidity. Things change. That's life, you know? And it's especially true where mob operations are concerned, because someone always wants someone else's power, and someone other than that is always waiting to use the second someone's attempts to take power to seize it for themselves. It's a pretty dangerous, confusing match of checkers and ah, well, nobody ever really wins for good.
But I'll admit, if there was one person I thought could keep the reigns on a mutinous ship, it was Jessica. The woman has a way of working that is so far removed from everyone else. It isn't natural, of course, it disrupts the whole system and it always has. But that's precisely why I thought she might be a bit less easy to depose. And in truth, she wasn't easy.
I've essentially known this was coming for months now. The fight with David...it didn't go over well with the boys. Massive expenditures for a personal vendetta, extremely public antics that nearly had Jessica arrested more than once, and on top of that, countless of our guys got thrown at David like so many sacks of meat to try to overwhelm he and his little band. I'm surprised he didn't go down, but then again, knowing his reputation...not so surprised after all.
What I am truly surprised by is who wound up on top. Michael. Anyone remember him? I sincerely doubt it.
Apparently, he's been stirring up trouble behind the scenes of Jess' operation for some time now. And finally, just a few nights ago, he made his move.
It went over about as well as you might expect. A group of our guys interrupted one of Jessica's infamous "Parties" to tell us the show was over. She stood there swearing and shrieking up a storm, and a few of our poor bastards, the ones she had chopping up victims for her no less, actually started up a firefight with Michael's converts. But alas, no dice. Eventually the fight came down to Michael and Jessica, and for whatever reason, Jessica decided to turn tail and run.
So, new management. Yay? Not so sure. I mentioned before that Michael gives me the willies, and that still applies. The two of us got to talking, though, face-to-face. If nothing else, the man has a head for numbers, the kind of cool approach to the mob that makes a millionaire out of his type pretty quickly. More businessman than crime boss, really. But he did offer me the same position I filled for Jessica, adviser and scribe, for more pay. That's something.
As for Jessica...well, she hasn't shown her face. Swore vengeance like some mad cartoon character on her way out the door, and she's been gone for two weeks now. I assume she's still around, owing to this little comment on my last post...but what that whole stupid dialogue means, I have no idea. All I know is, things are already shifting radically around here...business is fluid, as mentioned. Oh, and the hired guns that scrappy kid, Kevin, have mysteriously vanished along with he and Jessica. Again, I can't say anything for what that means at the moment. Michael won't say whether he got rid of them or not. I doubt he'd leave them alive if he got his hands on them, though.
-Mr. Flint
Thursday, December 11, 2014
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
More Monsters
Ah, it's been a while, hasn't it? Again.
Feels like I end up starting more posts than not that way. But that's what life is when you're in the mob. Free time is a luxury for the younger generation. Not me.
Especially now that I'm dealing with an increasingly frustrated organization beneath Jessica. Things have really taken a turn for the worse. Can't say I'm terribly surprised. There've been plenty of warning signs, and although Ms. Carter's managed to keep her ring in check for many years, it was bound to at least start cracking after a while. The whole David debacle saw to that quite nicely.
It doesn't help that Jessica actually managed to rope in a number of recruits with that post of her's. Well, just one, really. She's been calling him "Jackrabbit", but the kid's name is really Kevin. Kevin something or other. He's so young I barely have a bead on where he's come up from in mob dealings. All I know is, he's young and nervous, he's brought a couple of his own hired guns with him, and he is absolutely puppy-dog eyed around Jessica. I've met some weird fellas in my day, but this kid gives 'em a run for their money. He acts scared shitless of her and everything we do...but I'm fairly certain he's in it for the thrill.
He can't be older than twenty-five. Christ.
If things come to a head between Jessica and her own people, it'll be this kid's fault. He and his couple of guys have been increasingly insular with Jessica. Sort of her own private inner circle, if you will. I've managed to get close to them and tried to talk sense into her, but it really just isn't possible with that woman. Sense is not something she understands. Or maybe she does, and just hates it on principle. Fuck if I know.
All I do now is that talk is spreading that she's vulnerable. That if somebody really tried, they could kill her, finally.
This isn't the first time something like this has gone down in the past few years. I learned that recently, when I finished reading Bradley's Journal. Turns out the kid was involved in some big coup attempt. In the interest of time and making sure I actually relay the story, I'll just sum it up:
As mentioned, Bradley's pal Gavin came up with some scheme to lure Jessica into the path of this...Black Dog...thing. They concocted an elaborate plan to make it happen, and arranged some showdown between she and this monster. Turns out, someone had snitched or something, 'cause Jessica saw the trap coming a mile away. She's got a wicked trap sense on her, so I'm not surprised. Ah, anyway, after she fucked up their whole plan, the Dog made an appearance...only it didn't so much as look at Jessica. Phased right through her, in fact, on its way to slaughter everyone involved in the trap except for Bradley. She and it proceeded to frolic in the gore of her fallen guys, while Bradley got the fuck out of dodge as fast as possible without being seen.
My guess is, Jessica knew what happened, because the date on the last entry in Bradley's Journal suggests he started his blog up shortly after that. Considering she was pulling one of her typical intimidation routines on Bradley during his portion of this blog, I imagine it was a direct response to the attemped coup. But that's just an old man's theory. Could be she just liked the look of his eyeballs for dinner or something. Who knows?
What's interesting is Jessica's own notes on the subject. She has a certain amount of reverence for the Dog, if her notes can be believed. Not only that, but there's mention of a few more monsters that she's crossed paths with over the years...there's an entire page in Bradley's Journal written by Jessica, in which she details her encounters...first with some scary wooden marionette(the so called "Wooden Girl", I assume), then with a poisoned lake with tentacles(EAT?) and that freaky "Rake" monster, and finally something she calls The Hissing Woman(not sure on this one. A little help?)
In each of these stories, she recalls being utterly ignored by the creature at hand. Even one-on-one, the things don't pay her any mind. Phase right through her and keep right on after whatever else it is that otherworldly monsters keep on after. No idea what it could mean, but I admit, this is one subject where I'm still out of my depth. Probably never going to get a grip on that, to be honest.
Anyway, that's all I can think to report right now. Struggling to keep Jessica's people from rebelling effectively against her is becoming quite the hassle. But here's hoping, anyway. Ah, I mean, I guess.
-Mr. Flint
Feels like I end up starting more posts than not that way. But that's what life is when you're in the mob. Free time is a luxury for the younger generation. Not me.
Especially now that I'm dealing with an increasingly frustrated organization beneath Jessica. Things have really taken a turn for the worse. Can't say I'm terribly surprised. There've been plenty of warning signs, and although Ms. Carter's managed to keep her ring in check for many years, it was bound to at least start cracking after a while. The whole David debacle saw to that quite nicely.
It doesn't help that Jessica actually managed to rope in a number of recruits with that post of her's. Well, just one, really. She's been calling him "Jackrabbit", but the kid's name is really Kevin. Kevin something or other. He's so young I barely have a bead on where he's come up from in mob dealings. All I know is, he's young and nervous, he's brought a couple of his own hired guns with him, and he is absolutely puppy-dog eyed around Jessica. I've met some weird fellas in my day, but this kid gives 'em a run for their money. He acts scared shitless of her and everything we do...but I'm fairly certain he's in it for the thrill.
He can't be older than twenty
If things come to a head between Jessica and her own people, it'll be this kid's fault. He and his couple of guys have been increasingly insular with Jessica. Sort of her own private inner circle, if you will. I've managed to get close to them and tried to talk sense into her, but it really just isn't possible with that woman. Sense is not something she understands. Or maybe she does, and just hates it on principle. Fuck if I know.
All I do now is that talk is spreading that she's vulnerable. That if somebody really tried, they could kill her, finally.
This isn't the first time something like this has gone down in the past few years. I learned that recently, when I finished reading Bradley's Journal. Turns out the kid was involved in some big coup attempt. In the interest of time and making sure I actually relay the story, I'll just sum it up:
As mentioned, Bradley's pal Gavin came up with some scheme to lure Jessica into the path of this...Black Dog...thing. They concocted an elaborate plan to make it happen, and arranged some showdown between she and this monster. Turns out, someone had snitched or something, 'cause Jessica saw the trap coming a mile away. She's got a wicked trap sense on her, so I'm not surprised. Ah, anyway, after she fucked up their whole plan, the Dog made an appearance...only it didn't so much as look at Jessica. Phased right through her, in fact, on its way to slaughter everyone involved in the trap except for Bradley. She and it proceeded to frolic in the gore of her fallen guys, while Bradley got the fuck out of dodge as fast as possible without being seen.
My guess is, Jessica knew what happened, because the date on the last entry in Bradley's Journal suggests he started his blog up shortly after that. Considering she was pulling one of her typical intimidation routines on Bradley during his portion of this blog, I imagine it was a direct response to the attemped coup. But that's just an old man's theory. Could be she just liked the look of his eyeballs for dinner or something. Who knows?
What's interesting is Jessica's own notes on the subject. She has a certain amount of reverence for the Dog, if her notes can be believed. Not only that, but there's mention of a few more monsters that she's crossed paths with over the years...there's an entire page in Bradley's Journal written by Jessica, in which she details her encounters...first with some scary wooden marionette(the so called "Wooden Girl", I assume), then with a poisoned lake with tentacles(EAT?) and that freaky "Rake" monster, and finally something she calls The Hissing Woman(not sure on this one. A little help?)
In each of these stories, she recalls being utterly ignored by the creature at hand. Even one-on-one, the things don't pay her any mind. Phase right through her and keep right on after whatever else it is that otherworldly monsters keep on after. No idea what it could mean, but I admit, this is one subject where I'm still out of my depth. Probably never going to get a grip on that, to be honest.
Anyway, that's all I can think to report right now. Struggling to keep Jessica's people from rebelling effectively against her is becoming quite the hassle. But here's hoping, anyway. Ah, I mean, I guess.
-Mr. Flint
Friday, October 17, 2014
Recruitment
Heeeeeeeere's MOMMY!
Babies, I have a real issue on my hands here. It's a motherfucker. A real motherfucker. Can ya help a girl out? heheheh Maybe you can, maybe you can......
IF YOU DON'T I'LL CUT YOUR HEARTS OUT AND FEED 'EM TO MY DOGS.
I'm kidding babies. I don't have any dogs!
No, see, it's real important. I've got cocksuckers leaving me in droves! Too many to handle on my own, I'm afraid. Poor mommy, all on her own, with no one but Mr. Flint to back me up. He's a sweetheart, he is, but god he's getting old as fuck. Not very intimidating, y'know? So now here I am, trying to keep my boys in line. And they've all jumped ship! Ohhhh but not all of them make it to the raft in time, don't you worry about that. Mommy takes care of as many of them as she can, yes she does, yes she fucking does. >:3
(The last fucker who tried had the best tasting brain, I couldn't even wait for him to die to eat it!)
So I'm a bit upset! Can you blame me? This goddamn operation doesn't run itself. And just because Andre isn't around, doesn't mean I can't take care of my own affairs. I've got too much shit to do as top dog, though, so I've got to ask my babies for a favor: RECRUITMENT! You can do that for me, can't you, babies? Sure you can! Just spread the word of how NICE it is to work for me, how FUN and EXCITING and how much opportunity for PROMOTION there is! Minus that last part.
I'm willing to pay for your trouble...blood money. And blood. And money. You will get all three of these things if you help me! Don't think you're the only little tit-suckers I've got going, though, you're gonna have to work your ass off for me to get a reward. Mommy is not your personal wallet, you know. Plenty of fishermen on the sea for me right now. That's why Flint-y hasn't gotten his next post up, I'm busting his balls along with all the rest!
And hey! I am hiring, after all, babies...any of you want looking for a job?
(Psssst. We're just gettin' started, bitches. Thanks for the reminder of who I am, sweetcakes. You fucks ain't seen nothin' yet.)
Babies, I have a real issue on my hands here. It's a motherfucker. A real motherfucker. Can ya help a girl out? heheheh Maybe you can, maybe you can......
IF YOU DON'T I'LL CUT YOUR HEARTS OUT AND FEED 'EM TO MY DOGS.
I'm kidding babies. I don't have any dogs!
No, see, it's real important. I've got cocksuckers leaving me in droves! Too many to handle on my own, I'm afraid. Poor mommy, all on her own, with no one but Mr. Flint to back me up. He's a sweetheart, he is, but god he's getting old as fuck. Not very intimidating, y'know? So now here I am, trying to keep my boys in line. And they've all jumped ship! Ohhhh but not all of them make it to the raft in time, don't you worry about that. Mommy takes care of as many of them as she can, yes she does, yes she fucking does. >:3
(The last fucker who tried had the best tasting brain, I couldn't even wait for him to die to eat it!)
So I'm a bit upset! Can you blame me? This goddamn operation doesn't run itself. And just because Andre isn't around, doesn't mean I can't take care of my own affairs. I've got too much shit to do as top dog, though, so I've got to ask my babies for a favor: RECRUITMENT! You can do that for me, can't you, babies? Sure you can! Just spread the word of how NICE it is to work for me, how FUN and EXCITING and how much opportunity for PROMOTION there is! Minus that last part.
I'm willing to pay for your trouble...blood money. And blood. And money. You will get all three of these things if you help me! Don't think you're the only little tit-suckers I've got going, though, you're gonna have to work your ass off for me to get a reward. Mommy is not your personal wallet, you know. Plenty of fishermen on the sea for me right now. That's why Flint-y hasn't gotten his next post up, I'm busting his balls along with all the rest!
And hey! I am hiring, after all, babies...any of you want looking for a job?
(Psssst. We're just gettin' started, bitches. Thanks for the reminder of who I am, sweetcakes. You fucks ain't seen nothin' yet.)
Monday, September 29, 2014
The Monstrous Mutt
It's a bit late to be posting, but sleep isn't going to happen for a while now, with what Jessica's got going on in the other room. Lots of screaming. Lots of pop music. Spending any amount of time with this woman makes trips to the mall an entirely different experience. Right now, she is utterly transforming that song, I don't know who it's by, the one about being 'happy'...? Ah, doesn't matter.
Truthfully I don't mind. I haven't been asked to spectate, so I've got some free time while she finishes up her gruesome work. And I'm choosing to utilize that free time to finally get around to something I've promised all of you(and myself) that I would do for ages. Yeah, that's right, Bradley's Journal Entries are finally back. Now that things are back to what passes for normal for our operation, I want to get to the bottom of this thing.
(Normal isn't quite accurate, though, right now. Things are very rocky between Jessica and our boys. I don't know if anything will come of it, though, as she's always managed to knock them back into line before. Even without Andre, she's someone to be feared and listened to, trust me.)
Since there's a lot of material and I want to get primarily to the meat of what young Brad left behind in this notebook, I've sliced and diced the thing into one neat page or two that tells the story. There's some commentary from Jess that I've left in there where it's relevant, and I have a few notes of my own...but, ah, the bulk of my own questions, I'll just leave at the bottom of this post. Maybe this strange blogging community you all have built can help me piece together some answers.
May 29th, 2011
The kid is acting up. She's scared, she tells us, of some dog* that comes scratching at her window at night. Says it growls and shit. Fuck if I know what it means. This job is a pretty relaxed one, so I'm just grateful for that much. We might even get this kid, I'll call her Evelyn, back to her parents if we're real lucky. I've heard the stories, about what that monster, Carter, has guys like us do to the ones she doesn't feel like returning...sick shit that makes that "party" Marc and I went to look tame.
*[Part of the next paragraph is obscured by a drawing, which I think was done by Jess, of a massive, vicious looking hound. In her typical scrawling handwriting, 'NICE DOGGY' is written above it.]
------
June 15th, 2011
...
Gavin has gotten real, real quiet. Like fuckin scary quiet. He looks like ghosts talk to him at night or some shit, I dunno. When I bring it up, he won't say whats bothering him, just to leave it alone. That he's thinking about it, that hes working it out on his own, whatever 'it' is. My guess? It's got to do with his girl. The chick with the red eyes that comes and stands around outside. I swear to god, if I ever get my hands on that woman, I'mgonna bash her head in... but I've never gotten my hands on her. Every time I go out there, she vanishes. Just starts walking away, and moves so fast I can't get her. One time Thomas had a talk with her. He managed to get her on the corner, but he said all she said was that our place used to be her childhood home. Freaky bitch.
------
[Not sure of the date on this one. Bradley didn't bother to write one in. I don't think it was more than a week after the one above, though.]
...
We finally get Gavin talking, and this is the shit he has to say? Some weird-ass crap about a giant, monster dog?* I don't know what to think right now. I feel like I'm losing my mind, or maybe I already have, but either way Gavin clearly lost his a long time ago. I'm still trying to make sense of it.
*What a pretty, pretty puppy.....it's fur would ruin my lovely coat, it's so sticky with blood and tar, hehehehehehe....
Basically, according to Gavin, there's a big, Black Dog that hunts and kills people who keep secrets. He says it smells 'em on you and goes looking, and when it finds you it waits for you to either tell someone yoursecrets or drives you insane and tears you to pieces. Or something like that, anyway. Says it's been stalking him for a whole year, and he only just started thinking about how he's totally screwed. That ex-girlfriend of his, the one with the red eyes, Gavin swears up and down that that's this dog in another form. He wants us to try to lure Carter into its path, and try to bump her off that way...which would be an alright plan, I guess, if this thing were actually fucking real.
------
June 27th, 2011
i fucking saw the fucking dog. It's real.
That's as far as I've dared to venture. There's only one line to the entry from June 27th, and that's it. I haven't read any further because, quite frankly, that one was enough to put me off of the things almost for good. But it's finally getting to me, I suppose, now that I have time to think harder about what I've read... ah, I started reading some of your other blogs. You folks write about monsters quite frequently, and not just the kind that I thought were real, like Jessica. You all deal with them like appliances you have to use every day, like a toaster or a microwave oven. Horrifying, freakish microwave ovens. So I thought, maybe you could help me. What is this thing Gavin describes? Is it real, or am I falling for a very elaborate prank? More importantly, if it is real, how the hell do I avoid it?
Thanks for the help. Maybe. Ah, well.
-Mr. Flint.
Sunday, September 21, 2014
Chasing Monsters
Ah, home, sweet home.
No, really, I mean it. This blog doesn't mean much to me. But the circumstances that allow me to use it mean that things are peaceful, and peaceful is a luxury I don't know I'll have for a while.
Oh, yes, so the whole kidnapping debacle. I was getting to that. You can't fault an old man for taking his time when he has some of it, can you? No you cannot. Fuckers.
You're all pretty aware of the details at this point. I'll be honest, there's not much more to tell. David's post about it gave away most of the details. Jessica, Andre and I had been... well, ah, you can't exactly call what Andre and Jess had been doing 'taking care' of little Emily. There were quite a great deal of scars on that girl before she left this place, though I did my best to treat them and keep them from becoming infected or anything else. But I couldn't shield her, not really.
So it was a miserable affair for the most part, although I have to be honest; Jessica throwing a loud, raucous, almost-normal party except for the over-abundance of 'Kesha' "music" was refreshing. No dismemberment at all, you guys! What an achievement.
I told Andre he was too burned up about that kid shooting him in the foot. You can always tell when a guy is too stuck on something. When it's going to burn him, before long. Not really any mystical mumbo-jumbo to it, they just act reckless or, at best, different. Andre was acting different. And I told him he'd get fucked, but he didn't listen to me, said it wasn't bothering him so bad.
Emily's bruises say otherwise.
Emily's wheelchair, I reckon, says otherwise.
When the whole thing went down, I was standing around, just sort of watching. That's really my job, when you get right down to it. Well, it was. With Andre dead, it's going to be a lot harder on poor ol' me. But that's beside the point.
I watched as Andre chased after the girl. As Jessica took off like a bat out of hell after David to see what he was up to. And then Emily went down. Andre had shot her, and that was that. One of David's people retaliated by taking him down, shooting his legs out from under him and shooting his hands to make sure he couldn't effectively use a gun. For a tiny thing, that one has good aim.
They tried to move poor Emily, and that's when she screamed, and that's when David and Jessica came running back. I have never seen Jessica Carter look as...small...as she did when she came back inside. David really did a number on her, there. But then he saw what Andre had done to his little girl. And whatever beast has been looming inside of that man, chained to a wall...well, it broke free. He tore into Andre with a knife in ways I've never seen before except from Jessica. Only more graceful. And when he was done, as Jess alluded to in her last post, he drowned the poor bastard in blood running out of his own wrist by pressing it to his mouth.
So much for the toughest damn hitman I've ever known.
David and Jessica exchanged a few words, and then he left, and then she and I left. Weirdly, we ended up going for ice cream. I've never seen her eat ice cream before.
Things are a bit dicey with us now. Jessica's crusade has cost us a lot of money and manpower, and even her loyal followers are questioning her judgement. And with Andre gone, well, ah, she really only has me to help keep them in line. Dunno how long that'll last. Not to mention that detective on our trail. Determined, he is. Oh well.
That's all for me right now, I think. Condolences to ya, Emily, for what happened to your legs. That's a real damn shame. David, heads up, I doubt if Jessica will be bothering you much from now on. To the rest of you...ah, I don't know. Good to be back, I suppose.
-Mr. Flint
Oh, and P.S. to David: Jessica made me promise to post this song for you the next time I write anything. So, here you go.
No, really, I mean it. This blog doesn't mean much to me. But the circumstances that allow me to use it mean that things are peaceful, and peaceful is a luxury I don't know I'll have for a while.
Oh, yes, so the whole kidnapping debacle. I was getting to that. You can't fault an old man for taking his time when he has some of it, can you? No you cannot. Fuckers.
You're all pretty aware of the details at this point. I'll be honest, there's not much more to tell. David's post about it gave away most of the details. Jessica, Andre and I had been... well, ah, you can't exactly call what Andre and Jess had been doing 'taking care' of little Emily. There were quite a great deal of scars on that girl before she left this place, though I did my best to treat them and keep them from becoming infected or anything else. But I couldn't shield her, not really.
So it was a miserable affair for the most part, although I have to be honest; Jessica throwing a loud, raucous, almost-normal party except for the over-abundance of 'Kesha' "music" was refreshing. No dismemberment at all, you guys! What an achievement.
I told Andre he was too burned up about that kid shooting him in the foot. You can always tell when a guy is too stuck on something. When it's going to burn him, before long. Not really any mystical mumbo-jumbo to it, they just act reckless or, at best, different. Andre was acting different. And I told him he'd get fucked, but he didn't listen to me, said it wasn't bothering him so bad.
Emily's bruises say otherwise.
Emily's wheelchair, I reckon, says otherwise.
When the whole thing went down, I was standing around, just sort of watching. That's really my job, when you get right down to it. Well, it was. With Andre dead, it's going to be a lot harder on poor ol' me. But that's beside the point.
I watched as Andre chased after the girl. As Jessica took off like a bat out of hell after David to see what he was up to. And then Emily went down. Andre had shot her, and that was that. One of David's people retaliated by taking him down, shooting his legs out from under him and shooting his hands to make sure he couldn't effectively use a gun. For a tiny thing, that one has good aim.
They tried to move poor Emily, and that's when she screamed, and that's when David and Jessica came running back. I have never seen Jessica Carter look as...small...as she did when she came back inside. David really did a number on her, there. But then he saw what Andre had done to his little girl. And whatever beast has been looming inside of that man, chained to a wall...well, it broke free. He tore into Andre with a knife in ways I've never seen before except from Jessica. Only more graceful. And when he was done, as Jess alluded to in her last post, he drowned the poor bastard in blood running out of his own wrist by pressing it to his mouth.
So much for the toughest damn hitman I've ever known.
David and Jessica exchanged a few words, and then he left, and then she and I left. Weirdly, we ended up going for ice cream. I've never seen her eat ice cream before.
Things are a bit dicey with us now. Jessica's crusade has cost us a lot of money and manpower, and even her loyal followers are questioning her judgement. And with Andre gone, well, ah, she really only has me to help keep them in line. Dunno how long that'll last. Not to mention that detective on our trail. Determined, he is. Oh well.
That's all for me right now, I think. Condolences to ya, Emily, for what happened to your legs. That's a real damn shame. David, heads up, I doubt if Jessica will be bothering you much from now on. To the rest of you...ah, I don't know. Good to be back, I suppose.
-Mr. Flint
Oh, and P.S. to David: Jessica made me promise to post this song for you the next time I write anything. So, here you go.
Monday, September 8, 2014
Wreck
David came to see me.
He did, like I knew he would, but not like I knew he would at all. Bastard. Fucker. Bitch. Loser. Moron. Fuck him. No don't do that it's no fun. Sex isn't fun.
hehehehehehehe
I thought he was weak. But I knew better. my David, he's never weak, not in the slightesttttttttt
He killed Andre. Beautiful, beautiful blood, drowning in it, that's what it was. He drowned Andre in his own blood. There was so much and we all watched and I was SO HAPPY TO SEE HIM AT LAST. I hadn't seen him before. He was hiding. No, not hiding.....there's a word for it maybe but I don't know.
I lost him. He's gone. He took his little cut of meat and he left. I won't get him back now. I know that.
Emily. I'm sorry.
David... my love.
Andre...you were delicious.
~Jessica
Monday, September 1, 2014
Thursday, August 28, 2014
Kidnapping
Much like a certain man on the path of redemption, we have taken in a stray.
Unlike said man, ours was quite unwilling, and nabbing her was something of a chore. But it was Jessica's idea, Jessica's desire, and what Jessica desires, Jessica gets. Have I said the word Jessica enough to hammer that point home yet? Good. I'm done with it. Today was a fucking mess and I'm just plain tired. On top of everything, something's gone wrong with my post and it hasn't gone up like I set it to yesterday. Still working on what's wrong with that.
For now, though, you should know that we have kidnapped Emily. Yes, that Emily. I have to admit, it's a damn good plan on Jessica's part. Yesterday afternoon, we cornered David and his band of misfits, and Andre set off after Emily while Jessica and I distracted Banks himself. That earned poor Andre a gunshot wound to the foot, but I think the bigger bruise is the one to his ego. Suck it up, big man, you got shot by an eight year old. Not that big a deal.
Jessica wants you to know, David, that 'this is it.' If you really want this girl back, if you're really committed to her and to this lifestyle, you'll come get her. Because she sure as shit isn't giving her back to you of her own volition. Trust me. She and Emily haven't stopped sniping at each other since the moment we tossed the little girl into the back of the van and drove off. I have a headache.
-Mr. Flint
Unlike said man, ours was quite unwilling, and nabbing her was something of a chore. But it was Jessica's idea, Jessica's desire, and what Jessica desires, Jessica gets. Have I said the word Jessica enough to hammer that point home yet? Good. I'm done with it. Today was a fucking mess and I'm just plain tired. On top of everything, something's gone wrong with my post and it hasn't gone up like I set it to yesterday. Still working on what's wrong with that.
For now, though, you should know that we have kidnapped Emily. Yes, that Emily. I have to admit, it's a damn good plan on Jessica's part. Yesterday afternoon, we cornered David and his band of misfits, and Andre set off after Emily while Jessica and I distracted Banks himself. That earned poor Andre a gunshot wound to the foot, but I think the bigger bruise is the one to his ego. Suck it up, big man, you got shot by an eight year old. Not that big a deal.
Jessica wants you to know, David, that 'this is it.' If you really want this girl back, if you're really committed to her and to this lifestyle, you'll come get her. Because she sure as shit isn't giving her back to you of her own volition. Trust me. She and Emily haven't stopped sniping at each other since the moment we tossed the little girl into the back of the van and drove off. I have a headache.
-Mr. Flint
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
Progress and Plans
Ah, hell, this again.
You may have noticed that multitasking is difficult when you work for Jessica Carter, of all people. I apologize for that, it means you get left out of the loop a lot, but ah, who am I kidding? Doesn't matter to me whether you know what's going on with us.
That being said, we're still trailing the Azrael Crew. If David Banks ever had any affection for Jess, I'd say it's about dried up at this point. I'd hate her too, if she had terrorized me and mine for the better part of five months. Then again, maybe I wouldn't. Actions have consequences, after all, and when you get into it with Jessica you ought to know that you're not ever going to be free of the risks associated with her demeanor. The woman is an inevitability, of sorts.
Anywho, Jessica has an exhausting plain in the works, and for right now things are quiet. First time that's happened in almost half a year. In this period of down time, I've managed to structure the next three entries of Bradley's journal in a way that makes sense, and seems to be the order in which they were written. I'm hoping that, by posting them here, maybe I can get some answers out of the larger blogging community. Why on earth did folks flock to blogs, of all things, to write about this sort of stuff? Seems like the strangest instinct when you're in deep with stuff like that. But, ah, what do I know? I'm a rambling old man. I've got those entries written out in one long, succinct post. I've got it set to go up tomorrow, while we're out, so that it doesn't clog the arteries of this blog. People need a chance to see this post before they can chew on the next one, full as it is of weirdness.
I'll be around.
-Mr. Flint.
You may have noticed that multitasking is difficult when you work for Jessica Carter, of all people. I apologize for that, it means you get left out of the loop a lot, but ah, who am I kidding? Doesn't matter to me whether you know what's going on with us.
That being said, we're still trailing the Azrael Crew. If David Banks ever had any affection for Jess, I'd say it's about dried up at this point. I'd hate her too, if she had terrorized me and mine for the better part of five months. Then again, maybe I wouldn't. Actions have consequences, after all, and when you get into it with Jessica you ought to know that you're not ever going to be free of the risks associated with her demeanor. The woman is an inevitability, of sorts.
Anywho, Jessica has an exhausting plain in the works, and for right now things are quiet. First time that's happened in almost half a year. In this period of down time, I've managed to structure the next three entries of Bradley's journal in a way that makes sense, and seems to be the order in which they were written. I'm hoping that, by posting them here, maybe I can get some answers out of the larger blogging community. Why on earth did folks flock to blogs, of all things, to write about this sort of stuff? Seems like the strangest instinct when you're in deep with stuff like that. But, ah, what do I know? I'm a rambling old man. I've got those entries written out in one long, succinct post. I've got it set to go up tomorrow, while we're out, so that it doesn't clog the arteries of this blog. People need a chance to see this post before they can chew on the next one, full as it is of weirdness.
I'll be around.
-Mr. Flint.
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
Damage Control
...is basically impossible when it comes to Jessica Carter.
Yes, ah, me again. It's been quite some time, but I've cracked Jessica's little 'code', if you can call it such. She made it quite clear that I wasn't allowed to use this blog again until I had solved her puzzle. And by that I mean until I figured out what she had changed the password to. Now that I've finally gotten through again, she's got me back on chronicler duty. Fun times, all around.
You haven't heard much from us, or from David Banks and co., for a while, obviously. It would be impossible to catch you up on everything that's gone on in the time we've been away, so I'll sum it up succinctly: Yes, Jessica is still on her mad crusade against them, and yes, we are still trying desperately to keep her organization together and aid her at the same time. It's rough work, not fun at all, I was kidding before. Her antics have become increasingly more violent and more visible, and unfortunately, that means there's been more trouble with the authorities than ever before.
For a while there, there was someone right on our tail. We managed to lose them, Andre and I, but the string of high-profile murders and torture chambers that Jessica has set up over the years are beginning to collapse under their own weight. In the past, Andre has reigned her in on this. He's the guy she hired to keep her people organized beneath her, to enforce the rank and file, and to generally keep a lid on the insanity she gets up to on a regular basis.
But he is not Superman. Even with my help, there's just no way to contain all the bloodshed and gore Jessica's been leaving in her wake. Three weeks ago, she insisted on following David and Emily to the zoo, and releasing one of the lions on the unsuspecting public. No idea how she thought that might draw David out into hurting people, but there you go. She hurt the poor animal just enough to get it scared and in attack mode, and then let it loose. We barely didn't get arrested extracting her from that zoo.
It's just... well, it's exhausting. And I think Jessica is getting desperate. Usually, there's a mad sort of logic to her schemes, at least where David is concerned. But this one was just stupid, and she came away more than a little bit frustrated with the whole experience. She held one of her "parties" after that, I think to soothe her rage, or something. Not that anything actually does that.
Meanwhile, I've been poring over Brad's journals...and what I'm finding is that I don't like one bit of it. I promised Jessica before that I would post them all, but now I don't think she care at all. Still, there's talk of monstrous, demonic dogs, and beings that just can't possibly be real, in there. And I want to know the truth of it. So I think, in the coming weeks, you're going to see a lot more of us. A lot more of those journals, too. Not only will putting them up help deflect anyone tracking us from this blog, but it might help me get some clarification on just what the hell it is I'm reading. It'd be nice, for a change, if I could get some clarity and meaning.
Ahhhh, who am I kidding? That shit doesn't help. But it's a start, anyway.
-Mr. Flint
Yes, ah, me again. It's been quite some time, but I've cracked Jessica's little 'code', if you can call it such. She made it quite clear that I wasn't allowed to use this blog again until I had solved her puzzle. And by that I mean until I figured out what she had changed the password to. Now that I've finally gotten through again, she's got me back on chronicler duty. Fun times, all around.
You haven't heard much from us, or from David Banks and co., for a while, obviously. It would be impossible to catch you up on everything that's gone on in the time we've been away, so I'll sum it up succinctly: Yes, Jessica is still on her mad crusade against them, and yes, we are still trying desperately to keep her organization together and aid her at the same time. It's rough work, not fun at all, I was kidding before. Her antics have become increasingly more violent and more visible, and unfortunately, that means there's been more trouble with the authorities than ever before.
For a while there, there was someone right on our tail. We managed to lose them, Andre and I, but the string of high-profile murders and torture chambers that Jessica has set up over the years are beginning to collapse under their own weight. In the past, Andre has reigned her in on this. He's the guy she hired to keep her people organized beneath her, to enforce the rank and file, and to generally keep a lid on the insanity she gets up to on a regular basis.
But he is not Superman. Even with my help, there's just no way to contain all the bloodshed and gore Jessica's been leaving in her wake. Three weeks ago, she insisted on following David and Emily to the zoo, and releasing one of the lions on the unsuspecting public. No idea how she thought that might draw David out into hurting people, but there you go. She hurt the poor animal just enough to get it scared and in attack mode, and then let it loose. We barely didn't get arrested extracting her from that zoo.
It's just... well, it's exhausting. And I think Jessica is getting desperate. Usually, there's a mad sort of logic to her schemes, at least where David is concerned. But this one was just stupid, and she came away more than a little bit frustrated with the whole experience. She held one of her "parties" after that, I think to soothe her rage, or something. Not that anything actually does that.
Meanwhile, I've been poring over Brad's journals...and what I'm finding is that I don't like one bit of it. I promised Jessica before that I would post them all, but now I don't think she care at all. Still, there's talk of monstrous, demonic dogs, and beings that just can't possibly be real, in there. And I want to know the truth of it. So I think, in the coming weeks, you're going to see a lot more of us. A lot more of those journals, too. Not only will putting them up help deflect anyone tracking us from this blog, but it might help me get some clarification on just what the hell it is I'm reading. It'd be nice, for a change, if I could get some clarity and meaning.
Ahhhh, who am I kidding? That shit doesn't help. But it's a start, anyway.
-Mr. Flint
Friday, June 27, 2014
DON'T CALL IT A COMEBACK
I BEEN HERE FOR YEARS.
ohhhhhh look. It's been too long. My babies must have missed me.
BUT I DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT MY BABIES
And do you know why not? Because you're more important to me than they are. You. You know who you are. I crave you like I crave rivers of red from the veins of disgusting, wretched people wasting their lives away. What I said to you in May is still true, my love. You cannot keep running from it. from me.
DON'T.
RUN.
STOP IT.
GOD DAMN.
what is all this oh god what can I do what will I do
Your new-found sentimentality has not gotten you anywhere and has cost you everything. Had you left him alone to do as he wanted (he would have drown in his own bile wasting away like the useless maggot he was) the ending that befell him never would've. And so many others. You are not the sort of fool who cuts into his own heart. You are strong. You survive. But you won't if you keep this up. David Banks, prioritize yourself above all these other wretched ones.
Speaking of maggots... You seem to have developed a taste for veal...it is not my favorite, but I know of its appeal. Somehow you still do not. Do you see how your sentiment is self-destructive? it is not good, or pure, or right. It is taking away everything that makes you you. Your heart has fallen out, and it hurts me so badly to watch. That's why I have to hurt you until you hurt me back.
HURT. ME. BACK. DAVID.
I know you fucking want to so just goddamn do it. We'll both be happier for it. You'll be happier for it. It's where you belong.
Lurking in the shadows. The silence. The quiet of the hunt, sneaking up on your prey, consuming, destroying, taking. You are a predator. The greatest one i've ever known.
Start fucking acting like it.
~The Monster
ohhhhhh look. It's been too long. My babies must have missed me.
BUT I DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT MY BABIES
And do you know why not? Because you're more important to me than they are. You. You know who you are. I crave you like I crave rivers of red from the veins of disgusting, wretched people wasting their lives away. What I said to you in May is still true, my love. You cannot keep running from it. from me.
DON'T.
RUN.
STOP IT.
GOD DAMN.
what is all this oh god what can I do what will I do
Your new-found sentimentality has not gotten you anywhere and has cost you everything. Had you left him alone to do as he wanted (he would have drown in his own bile wasting away like the useless maggot he was) the ending that befell him never would've. And so many others. You are not the sort of fool who cuts into his own heart. You are strong. You survive. But you won't if you keep this up. David Banks, prioritize yourself above all these other wretched ones.
Speaking of maggots... You seem to have developed a taste for veal...it is not my favorite, but I know of its appeal. Somehow you still do not. Do you see how your sentiment is self-destructive? it is not good, or pure, or right. It is taking away everything that makes you you. Your heart has fallen out, and it hurts me so badly to watch. That's why I have to hurt you until you hurt me back.
HURT. ME. BACK. DAVID.
I know you fucking want to so just goddamn do it. We'll both be happier for it. You'll be happier for it. It's where you belong.
Lurking in the shadows. The silence. The quiet of the hunt, sneaking up on your prey, consuming, destroying, taking. You are a predator. The greatest one i've ever known.
Start fucking acting like it.
~The Monster
Friday, April 18, 2014
You can't even begin to imagine it, I can't even begin to explain it
But ah, I'm apparently going to try to explain, anyway.
As some of you may or may not have noticed, we've been away for a while. 'A while' here meaning an entire month. And that isn't exactly on purpose, but it isn't exactly on accident, either. Jessica Carter's gone and flown us halfway across the country, multiple times, all because she's been chasing this little trio, as part of some bizarre mission only she fully understands.
Trying to herd Jessica one direction or another is hard enough as it is. It begins to feel like trying to herd clouds through the sky using a straw and the meager capacity of one's lungs. After a while, you start to realize just how feeble those things are, to be honest. Andre and I tried, at first, to dissuade her from this crusade she's gotten us on...but I haven't ever seen her this worked up about anything, and neither has Andre, apparently(he's been working with her longer, and he has a good head on his shoulders, so I trust him on this one.)
I feel as though I should back up a bit. Obviously, anyone reading this has probably figured out by now that Jessica and David Banks have a history. A long one, apparently. Here's what I gather, and this is to be taken with a grain of salt, seeing as it comes straight from Jess herself:
Sometime about twenty years ago, David and Jessica got friendly...or as friendly as you can call two psychopathic serial killers together. Real friendly, from the sound of things. If you're not familiar with Banks' work, here's a reminder: the guy has been operating as a hired assassin for anyone willing to pay for the last two decades or so. Mostly Irish mob stuff. But he didn't do it for the money, no. The guy made quite a name for himself as the type you only let loose on your worst enemies, when you wanted someone who was going to enjoy hurting the mark.
You can imagine, then, how he and Jessica might have gotten along. The two of them met towards the beginning of both of their careers, back when she was on her own, before she acquired this nice little empire of hers. To hear her tell it, the two of them were inseparable, going on nightly killing sprees together and then retiring to some abandoned hotel to curl up and cuddle, or whatever it is psychopaths do when they aren't killing people. It's almost adorable. If you're a deranged lunatic.
Eventually they parted ways, but Jessica speaks about David as fondly as I've ever heard her about anyone, calling him "the most fearsome knife-wielding predator I've ever known." Whatever the hell that means.
But apparently, he's gone straight or something, now. And that's an offense Jess isn't willing to suffer. She's convinced that this change of heart is a response to 'the world bringing him down', or some such nonsense. It's strange, hearing her go on and on, in reverent tones, about the distinction between 'David Banks' and 'Azrael'. In her own words, the latter is "a soft smear left on the floor of the world, weak and disgusting like all the others. He's nothing like David Banks, nothing at all."
Unfortunately, that's exactly what the aforementioned 'mission' she's in is all about; reminding him of 'who he really is', bringing that side of him back to the forefront of his life.
That's where the young lady's post, "Quiet Spell", comes into play. We'd been tracking the three of them for a few weeks before we hit upon their hiding place. Andre and I drove her there ourselves, and she knocked on the door. It apparently didn't go well, because the conversation with her old flame didn't last long, and she came sprinting off David's doorstep screaming, "LONG LIVE DAVID BANKS!", over and over.
Since then, we've been more or less harassing them at every opportunity. David's already moved them once, but it didn't take us long to catch up, seeing as we were right on their tail from the get-go. For whatever reason, Jessica's taken to murdering random civilians in the area, and leaving parts of their body outside her 'long lost love's' door. According to her, it's meant to "encourage his sadly-neglected wickedness back out to play."
All Andre and I foresee it doing is leaving a trail for the authorities to follow us by. Which is, needless to say, not great. The clean up is a nightmare, but so far, we've managed to pretty well handle damage control as best as is possible. I've never had my hands so full as since I started working for Jessica Carter. Kind of makes me feel young again!
To be honest, though, there's been a lot to process this past month. Which is why you haven't heard from me. Am I going to return to 'Bradley's Journal Entries?' I hear maybe two of you ask. My answer is a profoundly resonant 'I have no clue.' Jessica seems to have completely lost interest, but me... well, ahh, there's a lot of confusing information in those journals. Some of it is downright insane, and it isn't the stuff that comes from Jess. I mean, that stuff is insane, too. But not like this. I have no idea what to make of it, so I'm sorely tempted to post it here, to see what my readers make of it. It's real spooky stuff.
So now you know more or less where things stand with us. There's more I haven't written about, for the sake of keeping this post as short and readable as possible. But the jist of the situation is there, and anyway, some of it might be better explained from Elizabeth and David's side of things. Can't hog all the story-telling to myself, now, can I?
-Mr Flint
As some of you may or may not have noticed, we've been away for a while. 'A while' here meaning an entire month. And that isn't exactly on purpose, but it isn't exactly on accident, either. Jessica Carter's gone and flown us halfway across the country, multiple times, all because she's been chasing this little trio, as part of some bizarre mission only she fully understands.
Trying to herd Jessica one direction or another is hard enough as it is. It begins to feel like trying to herd clouds through the sky using a straw and the meager capacity of one's lungs. After a while, you start to realize just how feeble those things are, to be honest. Andre and I tried, at first, to dissuade her from this crusade she's gotten us on...but I haven't ever seen her this worked up about anything, and neither has Andre, apparently(he's been working with her longer, and he has a good head on his shoulders, so I trust him on this one.)
I feel as though I should back up a bit. Obviously, anyone reading this has probably figured out by now that Jessica and David Banks have a history. A long one, apparently. Here's what I gather, and this is to be taken with a grain of salt, seeing as it comes straight from Jess herself:
Sometime about twenty years ago, David and Jessica got friendly...or as friendly as you can call two psychopathic serial killers together. Real friendly, from the sound of things. If you're not familiar with Banks' work, here's a reminder: the guy has been operating as a hired assassin for anyone willing to pay for the last two decades or so. Mostly Irish mob stuff. But he didn't do it for the money, no. The guy made quite a name for himself as the type you only let loose on your worst enemies, when you wanted someone who was going to enjoy hurting the mark.
You can imagine, then, how he and Jessica might have gotten along. The two of them met towards the beginning of both of their careers, back when she was on her own, before she acquired this nice little empire of hers. To hear her tell it, the two of them were inseparable, going on nightly killing sprees together and then retiring to some abandoned hotel to curl up and cuddle, or whatever it is psychopaths do when they aren't killing people. It's almost adorable. If you're a deranged lunatic.
Eventually they parted ways, but Jessica speaks about David as fondly as I've ever heard her about anyone, calling him "the most fearsome knife-wielding predator I've ever known." Whatever the hell that means.
But apparently, he's gone straight or something, now. And that's an offense Jess isn't willing to suffer. She's convinced that this change of heart is a response to 'the world bringing him down', or some such nonsense. It's strange, hearing her go on and on, in reverent tones, about the distinction between 'David Banks' and 'Azrael'. In her own words, the latter is "a soft smear left on the floor of the world, weak and disgusting like all the others. He's nothing like David Banks, nothing at all."
Unfortunately, that's exactly what the aforementioned 'mission' she's in is all about; reminding him of 'who he really is', bringing that side of him back to the forefront of his life.
That's where the young lady's post, "Quiet Spell", comes into play. We'd been tracking the three of them for a few weeks before we hit upon their hiding place. Andre and I drove her there ourselves, and she knocked on the door. It apparently didn't go well, because the conversation with her old flame didn't last long, and she came sprinting off David's doorstep screaming, "LONG LIVE DAVID BANKS!", over and over.
Since then, we've been more or less harassing them at every opportunity. David's already moved them once, but it didn't take us long to catch up, seeing as we were right on their tail from the get-go. For whatever reason, Jessica's taken to murdering random civilians in the area, and leaving parts of their body outside her 'long lost love's' door. According to her, it's meant to "encourage his sadly-neglected wickedness back out to play."
All Andre and I foresee it doing is leaving a trail for the authorities to follow us by. Which is, needless to say, not great. The clean up is a nightmare, but so far, we've managed to pretty well handle damage control as best as is possible. I've never had my hands so full as since I started working for Jessica Carter. Kind of makes me feel young again!
To be honest, though, there's been a lot to process this past month. Which is why you haven't heard from me. Am I going to return to 'Bradley's Journal Entries?' I hear maybe two of you ask. My answer is a profoundly resonant 'I have no clue.' Jessica seems to have completely lost interest, but me... well, ahh, there's a lot of confusing information in those journals. Some of it is downright insane, and it isn't the stuff that comes from Jess. I mean, that stuff is insane, too. But not like this. I have no idea what to make of it, so I'm sorely tempted to post it here, to see what my readers make of it. It's real spooky stuff.
So now you know more or less where things stand with us. There's more I haven't written about, for the sake of keeping this post as short and readable as possible. But the jist of the situation is there, and anyway, some of it might be better explained from Elizabeth and David's side of things. Can't hog all the story-telling to myself, now, can I?
-Mr Flint
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Strange Tidings
So, as mentioned last night, I've found what I believe to be the next four entries in Bradley's journal. Since Jessica seems to have torn them all out of whatever binding they used to be in, it's difficult to piece together a timeline- I have to look to make sure there aren't any entries dated between the one I have and the one I posted last. To complicated matters even further, this first of four isn't even dated. The only reason I'm pretty sure it comes first is because it seems to kick off what is honestly the weirdest damn thing I've read in a long while. And that's counting even Jessica's commentary.
So, ah, here's the thing.
Gavin has this weird thoughtful look about him, when he's really trying to come up with a solution to something. His eyes get real misty, and his whole body gets real peaceful. It's like his entire being is working towards whatever goal he's got. That's how he's been a lot, lately, mostly since we picked up the little kid. I tried asking him about it, but he just said he was distracted and not to worry about it. I wonder what's going on in that head of his? Dude is too smart for his own good, always has been.
I think, maybe, it's his ex-girlfriend that's bothering him? She's been following him around, lately, I guess. I know because I've seen her, standing outside on the sidewalk, staring at the house. She's a spooky looking bitch, all wrapped up in her big black coat. And I swear to god, from that distance, it looks like she has orange eyes. Gavin just laughed at that when I asked him about her. He said she was an "old flame." Whatever that sappy bullshit means.
This one here is the first piece of the puzzle, and also the lynch pin that tipped me off to how the other three were connected. Two of the next three also don't have dates, but I can just about make out what order they're supposed to be in because of that ex-girlfriend stuff. I'm really not sure what to make of it. I know enough to know there are things you just don't poke your head into... and it looks like Bradley, Gavin, and co. may have poked their head into that kind of nastiness. I don't know.
What I do know is that these next three entries have a lot of commentary from Jessica, so they're going to take a little more time to be posted. Especially since she's got me busy with other work right now. It's a wonder she still even cares that these entries get posted, but she does. Apparently she's proud of them, or something. Ah well. Not my job to ask questions, now is it?
-Mr. Flint
So, ah, here's the thing.
Gavin has this weird thoughtful look about him, when he's really trying to come up with a solution to something. His eyes get real misty, and his whole body gets real peaceful. It's like his entire being is working towards whatever goal he's got. That's how he's been a lot, lately, mostly since we picked up the little kid. I tried asking him about it, but he just said he was distracted and not to worry about it. I wonder what's going on in that head of his? Dude is too smart for his own good, always has been.
I think, maybe, it's his ex-girlfriend that's bothering him? She's been following him around, lately, I guess. I know because I've seen her, standing outside on the sidewalk, staring at the house. She's a spooky looking bitch, all wrapped up in her big black coat. And I swear to god, from that distance, it looks like she has orange eyes. Gavin just laughed at that when I asked him about her. He said she was an "old flame." Whatever that sappy bullshit means.
This one here is the first piece of the puzzle, and also the lynch pin that tipped me off to how the other three were connected. Two of the next three also don't have dates, but I can just about make out what order they're supposed to be in because of that ex-girlfriend stuff. I'm really not sure what to make of it. I know enough to know there are things you just don't poke your head into... and it looks like Bradley, Gavin, and co. may have poked their head into that kind of nastiness. I don't know.
What I do know is that these next three entries have a lot of commentary from Jessica, so they're going to take a little more time to be posted. Especially since she's got me busy with other work right now. It's a wonder she still even cares that these entries get posted, but she does. Apparently she's proud of them, or something. Ah well. Not my job to ask questions, now is it?
-Mr. Flint
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
Searching for Meaning(I suppose, anyway)
Oh, look at that. Jessica made a post.
I'd love to say I didn't already know about that. But I did. She made sure that I was aware. And anyway, I suspected something like this was going to happen, sooner or later. Lately every time I see her, she's rattling on about what's been going on online. It has her excited, for some reason. I'm not entirely sure why. It's hard to get concrete information out of Jessica when she's manic like she has been. Mostly all I get is a lot of "Cunts!" and other, less eloquent swear words. But there was something she said the other day that caught my interest, and shed a little light on what's going through her mind in conjunction with her post.
I'm paraphrasing, here, but honestly the conversation stuck out to me enough that I remember most of it. She said to me, "You don't know what they do to people like me, [Mr. Flint]! They do terrible, awful things...they would bring me down if they could! Poke and prod and stab until my whole heart just PLOP! Dropped out, just like that. It's disgusting. Even while they're staring at me, at us, like we're freaks, they're studying and examining and talking about what we do. They practically drool at the chance to get into our heads, to see the things people like us do, the things they wish they could do for themselves! They'd never admit it. Oh, no, they'd never admit it. They want to be us, but since they can't, they make us into them. I won't have it. We're going to do something about it!"
I look at that, and then I look at what she wrote in that last post about David Banks, and I'm wondering if the two are connected. She's got me making travel arrangements for us(us being her, myself, Andre, and a few of ours Andre usually insists we keep nearby) and I can't make heads or tails of where we're going. A few different stops, it looks like, and none of them seem to be connected.
With Jessica, they might mean something, or they might be a pointless waste of money on completely insane bullshit. Who knows? All I know is, if it's something Jessica is excited about, it's something I've got to put a lot of effort into. Wouldn't want to end up dinner any time soon.
Even with all of this on my plate, I've managed to locate and pin down the timeline for the next four entries in Bradley's journal. The next one won't require any fancy formatting, so I'll throw it up tomorrow morning after breakfast. After that, it's going to take some time to get the others out-- I'm having a damn hard time making sense of them, and the content is just baffling... ah well, you'll see soon enough.
-Mr. Flint.
I'd love to say I didn't already know about that. But I did. She made sure that I was aware. And anyway, I suspected something like this was going to happen, sooner or later. Lately every time I see her, she's rattling on about what's been going on online. It has her excited, for some reason. I'm not entirely sure why. It's hard to get concrete information out of Jessica when she's manic like she has been. Mostly all I get is a lot of "Cunts!" and other, less eloquent swear words. But there was something she said the other day that caught my interest, and shed a little light on what's going through her mind in conjunction with her post.
I'm paraphrasing, here, but honestly the conversation stuck out to me enough that I remember most of it. She said to me, "You don't know what they do to people like me, [Mr. Flint]! They do terrible, awful things...they would bring me down if they could! Poke and prod and stab until my whole heart just PLOP! Dropped out, just like that. It's disgusting. Even while they're staring at me, at us, like we're freaks, they're studying and examining and talking about what we do. They practically drool at the chance to get into our heads, to see the things people like us do, the things they wish they could do for themselves! They'd never admit it. Oh, no, they'd never admit it. They want to be us, but since they can't, they make us into them. I won't have it. We're going to do something about it!"
I look at that, and then I look at what she wrote in that last post about David Banks, and I'm wondering if the two are connected. She's got me making travel arrangements for us(us being her, myself, Andre, and a few of ours Andre usually insists we keep nearby) and I can't make heads or tails of where we're going. A few different stops, it looks like, and none of them seem to be connected.
With Jessica, they might mean something, or they might be a pointless waste of money on completely insane bullshit. Who knows? All I know is, if it's something Jessica is excited about, it's something I've got to put a lot of effort into. Wouldn't want to end up dinner any time soon.
Even with all of this on my plate, I've managed to locate and pin down the timeline for the next four entries in Bradley's journal. The next one won't require any fancy formatting, so I'll throw it up tomorrow morning after breakfast. After that, it's going to take some time to get the others out-- I'm having a damn hard time making sense of them, and the content is just baffling... ah well, you'll see soon enough.
-Mr. Flint.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Idiots
Ohhhhhhhh. I've been away from my babies too long....
A lot has happened since we last spoke, babies! The lovely Mr. Flint has kept you updated on most of them, but there are some things he simply doesn't have the stomach for! Cooking, for example. ;-) See, there are many things I know how to do that people don't think I know how to do. I can knit, I can speak French and German, and HELLO?! I'M THE LEADER OF A CRIME RING?!
hehehehehe I lost my temper. I can do that, too, sometimes.
And that's another fucking thing. Why is my temper seen as such a BAD THING by you all(I'm looking at you, my little Fracture)? It's gotten me this far! I'm in charge! No one can bring me down! And it's because I take what I want, I do what I want, I kill who I want. Unlike you all. So many of you, wallowing in the mud, writhing in exquisite agony because you refuse to DO anything about it. And here I am, on top, and there's nothing any of you(or anyone else for that matter) could do to change it!
For fuck's sake, "what's wrong with me?" What's wrong with all of you? Losers!
You've even brought one of the most powerful creatures I've ever met down to your level. You've made him feel shame for the beautiful thing he is, the incredible things he's done. David Banks, down in the mud with the ants and the pigs...it's fucking shameful is what it is.
IT'S A GODDAMN TRAVESTY AND YOU'RE ALL GOING TO PAY FOR IT!!
So what's a grieving mother to do with her time, to cheer herself up after the loss of her only son? Well, studying cooking, for one thing.... there are so many flavors, so many delicious textures to be discovered and explored. I took a man from a restaurant whom I assume is a chef, and he's taught me such wonderful things. For instance, you can really make a stew POP with a few bones and the eyeballs thrown in for flavoring...and sucking on teeth is always a lovely after-dinner treat! Mmmmmm, if only I could share some of this meal with you, babies. It is a delight.
Ahhhh, but I'll have to deal with the screaming, now, before someone drops by to find out just what's going on. You didn't think I wasn't sharing the meal with my new friend, did you? He doesn't seem to be as ecited about eating himself as I am about eating him....but then, no one ever is. >:3
Till next time, babies. Have a good time living like the idiots you all are.
~The Monster
A lot has happened since we last spoke, babies! The lovely Mr. Flint has kept you updated on most of them, but there are some things he simply doesn't have the stomach for! Cooking, for example. ;-) See, there are many things I know how to do that people don't think I know how to do. I can knit, I can speak French and German, and HELLO?! I'M THE LEADER OF A CRIME RING?!
hehehehehe I lost my temper. I can do that, too, sometimes.
And that's another fucking thing. Why is my temper seen as such a BAD THING by you all(I'm looking at you, my little Fracture)? It's gotten me this far! I'm in charge! No one can bring me down! And it's because I take what I want, I do what I want, I kill who I want. Unlike you all. So many of you, wallowing in the mud, writhing in exquisite agony because you refuse to DO anything about it. And here I am, on top, and there's nothing any of you(or anyone else for that matter) could do to change it!
For fuck's sake, "what's wrong with me?" What's wrong with all of you? Losers!
You've even brought one of the most powerful creatures I've ever met down to your level. You've made him feel shame for the beautiful thing he is, the incredible things he's done. David Banks, down in the mud with the ants and the pigs...it's fucking shameful is what it is.
IT'S A GODDAMN TRAVESTY AND YOU'RE ALL GOING TO PAY FOR IT!!
So what's a grieving mother to do with her time, to cheer herself up after the loss of her only son? Well, studying cooking, for one thing.... there are so many flavors, so many delicious textures to be discovered and explored. I took a man from a restaurant whom I assume is a chef, and he's taught me such wonderful things. For instance, you can really make a stew POP with a few bones and the eyeballs thrown in for flavoring...and sucking on teeth is always a lovely after-dinner treat! Mmmmmm, if only I could share some of this meal with you, babies. It is a delight.
Ahhhh, but I'll have to deal with the screaming, now, before someone drops by to find out just what's going on. You didn't think I wasn't sharing the meal with my new friend, did you? He doesn't seem to be as ecited about eating himself as I am about eating him....but then, no one ever is. >:3
Till next time, babies. Have a good time living like the idiots you all are.
~The Monster
Saturday, February 22, 2014
Business as Usual Part II
I did promise that journal entry, didn't I? I sure did. I haven't got much in the way of news, otherwise. Jessica's rampage hit the papers and the television, like I knew it would. Surprises me that investigations haven't turned up this very blog yet. I'm doing my damnedest to hide the thing, God knows, but there's only so much a man with limited computer knowledge can do...ah well. Here's that journal entry I promised you(and Jessica, for that matter.)
April 21, 2011
I haven't heard from Marc in since that stupid fucking party.
I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Carter's made it pretty clear, since she took over, she won't suffer people who are too chickenshit to do the work she has us doing.* It's not like before, and I thought sometimes that it was bad before. Now I wish it would just go back to the way it used to be.
*Chickenshits. Chickenshits, chickenshits, chickenshits! B'GAWK! Can't fucking stand sniveling cowards. What do they do all day? Why do they have the gall to insist that I'M the crazy one? You imbeciles...you think to yourselves, 'My god, I could stab that person, I hate him so much'...but you don't do it!! You never do it! You desire, you want, you crave, and yet you JUST DON'T GO OUT AND DO. That's fucking crazy....
But Marc was a good guy...my best friend, really...we got in this shit together because we grew up together*, and to think that he might be dead because he didn't want to chop up a little girl and fucking feed her to that freak**...that's just a little too much for me to handle, honestly.
*I don't remember any "Marc" in my little Bradley's life....
**Nom, nom, nom! [There is a scribbled little drawing of Jessica, making a cute 'hungry' face.]
It used to be a lot of drugs. Now it's kids. We still run a shit-ton of the drug trade in New York, that hasn't changed, but Carter thinks we could stand to bring in a lot more money than we are. So she's got us stealing kids off rich motherfuckers, and taking in the ransom money. Some of those kids get sent back in one piece...but lots of them don't, even when we get our money.
Hell, right now she's got me and a couple of other guys hiding out in this little abandoned house, after that girl from the "party" died because her parents didn't cough up any money for their kid.. We're gonna be getting in a little brat of our own, Carter's been saying, sooner rather than later. She's got her eye on a couple, and when she says the word "go" we're supposed to grab one of 'em...
man, if the police ever got hold of my notebook, they'd be all over our asses in a millisecond. Not like they don't know we're out there. I hear rumors that Jessica's thinking about getting a guy or three on the inside of the NYPD*, which is actually a pretty smart idea. Keeping them off our trail is getting to be a chore, with the way that bitch runs things.**
*Reminds me of a meeting I need to get to with one of our police friends! Wish I had someone to remind me of meetings more often...[Considering the timing of when she would have been writing these annotations, I have to wonder if this particular entry was what inspired her to hire me as a 'personal assistant'. I could be wrong, of course. Just speculation.]
**Such naughty language! Little Bradley's potty mouth must come from his father, I have no doubt...only I don't remember his father ever being around for him, the poor little thing.
Still, things are peaceful* ...for now. I thank God for the quiet. Sharing a place with a couple of guys, just me, this guy Gavin I used to smoke with, and a few more...it's helping, I guess. I didn't think anything would or could, after hat stupid fucking "party."
*[Jessica has scribbled out the word 'peaceful' rather harshly here. In fact, the only reason I know the word 'peaceful' is what lies beneath the scratch-marks and the tear of her pen through the page is because she's written 'FUCK PEACEFUL' above it, along with 'TERRIBLE', 'no-good', 'miserable', 'exhausting' and 'decaying quite nicely'.]
There you have it. There's a story developing here, I think. In a lot of these journal entries, Bradley writes very candidly about the way Jessica operates. The writing's a lot more fiery and rebellious than those first couple of blog posts leading up to his death. It's a mess, though. There's so much material to sift through, I'm having a hard time putting the pieces together in a proper timeline. From what I can tell, though, a lot more went on in that house he and Gavin shared than just ransoming a kid...
As an aside, I'd like to point out that we do a lot less kidnapping as of now than Jessica did when she first took over the operation. That was when she was doing the work on her own. She did get those guys set up in the force that Bradley mentions hearing rumors about...later, she hired Andre, and he suggested we cut down on the kidnapping. Lots of rich people with little morals of their own means Jessica had a lot of people trying to put a price on her head. Hell, that's how she met Andre in the first place.
But I'm rambling, so I'll leave you to whatever it is you crazy, blogging people do every day. I've truly got no idea when I'll find the next piece of the puzzle, chronologically, so you may not see any more journals for a while. Ah well.
-Mr. Flint
April 21, 2011
I haven't heard from Marc in since that stupid fucking party.
I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Carter's made it pretty clear, since she took over, she won't suffer people who are too chickenshit to do the work she has us doing.* It's not like before, and I thought sometimes that it was bad before. Now I wish it would just go back to the way it used to be.
*Chickenshits. Chickenshits, chickenshits, chickenshits! B'GAWK! Can't fucking stand sniveling cowards. What do they do all day? Why do they have the gall to insist that I'M the crazy one? You imbeciles...you think to yourselves, 'My god, I could stab that person, I hate him so much'...but you don't do it!! You never do it! You desire, you want, you crave, and yet you JUST DON'T GO OUT AND DO. That's fucking crazy....
But Marc was a good guy...my best friend, really...we got in this shit together because we grew up together*, and to think that he might be dead because he didn't want to chop up a little girl and fucking feed her to that freak**...that's just a little too much for me to handle, honestly.
*I don't remember any "Marc" in my little Bradley's life....
**Nom, nom, nom! [There is a scribbled little drawing of Jessica, making a cute 'hungry' face.]
It used to be a lot of drugs. Now it's kids. We still run a shit-ton of the drug trade in New York, that hasn't changed, but Carter thinks we could stand to bring in a lot more money than we are. So she's got us stealing kids off rich motherfuckers, and taking in the ransom money. Some of those kids get sent back in one piece...but lots of them don't, even when we get our money.
Hell, right now she's got me and a couple of other guys hiding out in this little abandoned house, after that girl from the "party" died because her parents didn't cough up any money for their kid.. We're gonna be getting in a little brat of our own, Carter's been saying, sooner rather than later. She's got her eye on a couple, and when she says the word "go" we're supposed to grab one of 'em...
man, if the police ever got hold of my notebook, they'd be all over our asses in a millisecond. Not like they don't know we're out there. I hear rumors that Jessica's thinking about getting a guy or three on the inside of the NYPD*, which is actually a pretty smart idea. Keeping them off our trail is getting to be a chore, with the way that bitch runs things.**
*Reminds me of a meeting I need to get to with one of our police friends! Wish I had someone to remind me of meetings more often...[Considering the timing of when she would have been writing these annotations, I have to wonder if this particular entry was what inspired her to hire me as a 'personal assistant'. I could be wrong, of course. Just speculation.]
**Such naughty language! Little Bradley's potty mouth must come from his father, I have no doubt...only I don't remember his father ever being around for him, the poor little thing.
Still, things are peaceful* ...for now. I thank God for the quiet. Sharing a place with a couple of guys, just me, this guy Gavin I used to smoke with, and a few more...it's helping, I guess. I didn't think anything would or could, after hat stupid fucking "party."
*[Jessica has scribbled out the word 'peaceful' rather harshly here. In fact, the only reason I know the word 'peaceful' is what lies beneath the scratch-marks and the tear of her pen through the page is because she's written 'FUCK PEACEFUL' above it, along with 'TERRIBLE', 'no-good', 'miserable', 'exhausting' and 'decaying quite nicely'.]
There you have it. There's a story developing here, I think. In a lot of these journal entries, Bradley writes very candidly about the way Jessica operates. The writing's a lot more fiery and rebellious than those first couple of blog posts leading up to his death. It's a mess, though. There's so much material to sift through, I'm having a hard time putting the pieces together in a proper timeline. From what I can tell, though, a lot more went on in that house he and Gavin shared than just ransoming a kid...
As an aside, I'd like to point out that we do a lot less kidnapping as of now than Jessica did when she first took over the operation. That was when she was doing the work on her own. She did get those guys set up in the force that Bradley mentions hearing rumors about...later, she hired Andre, and he suggested we cut down on the kidnapping. Lots of rich people with little morals of their own means Jessica had a lot of people trying to put a price on her head. Hell, that's how she met Andre in the first place.
But I'm rambling, so I'll leave you to whatever it is you crazy, blogging people do every day. I've truly got no idea when I'll find the next piece of the puzzle, chronologically, so you may not see any more journals for a while. Ah well.
-Mr. Flint
Friday, February 21, 2014
Business as Usual Part I
Did you miss me?
Of course you didn't, and I didn't miss you. If truth be told, I could go my whole life never writing another word on this blog, and it wouldn't bother me in the slightest. It probably wouldn't bother any of you, either, if I never showed up to write a single word more on the subject of Jessica Carter. But unfortunately, Jessica Carter would most certainly be bothered if I never wrote another word about her.
Don't get me wrong. She's not vain, or proud, or egotistical. Not the way normal people are. Jessica is...she's the id. You kids know what the id is, right? That primal side of the psyche, manifesting through subconscious, against the will of it's host body...? Nah, you probably haven't got a fucking clue what I'm talking about. But trust me, that's Jess. She's The Joker without a Batman. She does things, because they come into her head. So when she has a thought, it's almost as though she can't help but perceive it to be true, because for her the distinction between reality and her mind is nonexistent.
Funny enough, this is also why she makes such an effective boss.
The dinner meet-up with Michael went about as well as I could have hoped for. Jessica played nice, we got ahold of Michael's resources as part of our operation, and afterwards I managed to procure the dinner Jessica actually wanted for her.
Yikes.
No, see, the reason you haven't heard from me in a week is because Ms. Carter decided she wanted to celebrate a certain holiday as only she could last Friday. We spent the evening going out on what she lovingly referred to as a "date", but she insisted that there was nothing between the two of us. Which there isn't. And it wasn't like any date I'd have ever gone on if I had any choice in the matter at all. But I didn't. Ah well.
Jessica has a way about her, I'll admit...but I'm not one to romanticize this stuff. She spent the night killing and eating her way across half of New York, and mentioned that her rampage was intended as 'a most loving letter to one still living, out there in the world somewhere, his heart all to pieces.' Her words, I shit you not. She can be surprisingly eloquent when she wants to be. Hell, she's trilingual, if you can believe it!
After that, she had me make some arrangements for travel, and I spent the better part of this week cleaning up as best I could in the wake of her murder spree. I suspect that her serial rampage has put her on the cops' radar once again, though. Not that they won't know who it is. They always do.
So that's why you haven't heard from me, and that's also why Part II of this post is going to go up tomorrow night. Part II is going to be that next entry in Bradley's journal I promised last week. For real this time. I swear.
-Mr. Flint
Of course you didn't, and I didn't miss you. If truth be told, I could go my whole life never writing another word on this blog, and it wouldn't bother me in the slightest. It probably wouldn't bother any of you, either, if I never showed up to write a single word more on the subject of Jessica Carter. But unfortunately, Jessica Carter would most certainly be bothered if I never wrote another word about her.
Don't get me wrong. She's not vain, or proud, or egotistical. Not the way normal people are. Jessica is...she's the id. You kids know what the id is, right? That primal side of the psyche, manifesting through subconscious, against the will of it's host body...? Nah, you probably haven't got a fucking clue what I'm talking about. But trust me, that's Jess. She's The Joker without a Batman. She does things, because they come into her head. So when she has a thought, it's almost as though she can't help but perceive it to be true, because for her the distinction between reality and her mind is nonexistent.
Funny enough, this is also why she makes such an effective boss.
The dinner meet-up with Michael went about as well as I could have hoped for. Jessica played nice, we got ahold of Michael's resources as part of our operation, and afterwards I managed to procure the dinner Jessica actually wanted for her.
Yikes.
No, see, the reason you haven't heard from me in a week is because Ms. Carter decided she wanted to celebrate a certain holiday as only she could last Friday. We spent the evening going out on what she lovingly referred to as a "date", but she insisted that there was nothing between the two of us. Which there isn't. And it wasn't like any date I'd have ever gone on if I had any choice in the matter at all. But I didn't. Ah well.
Jessica has a way about her, I'll admit...but I'm not one to romanticize this stuff. She spent the night killing and eating her way across half of New York, and mentioned that her rampage was intended as 'a most loving letter to one still living, out there in the world somewhere, his heart all to pieces.' Her words, I shit you not. She can be surprisingly eloquent when she wants to be. Hell, she's trilingual, if you can believe it!
After that, she had me make some arrangements for travel, and I spent the better part of this week cleaning up as best I could in the wake of her murder spree. I suspect that her serial rampage has put her on the cops' radar once again, though. Not that they won't know who it is. They always do.
So that's why you haven't heard from me, and that's also why Part II of this post is going to go up tomorrow night. Part II is going to be that next entry in Bradley's journal I promised last week. For real this time. I swear.
-Mr. Flint
Thursday, February 13, 2014
I Hate Meetings
Seriously. They are a pain in my back side.
Doubtless, my humble audience took note of my week-long absence. Jessica and I had business to attend to, so unfortunately, the next entry in Bradley's journal isn't ready for the world just yet. More than likely, it will go up tomorrow night. Things are settling down for us. That meeting on the south side went...well, south, frankly.
We met up with this Michael bloke down south, surrounded by warehouses and dank little office buildings. The area was mostly abandoned. I know that more than a few homeless people squat in those warehouses, which is why it's generally safe to operate from there without worrying about the police nosing in on business.
Jessica doesn't have much good sense, if you ask me, to be going in with this guy. I don't like the look of him. He's quiet, pale, with the sort of attitude only the real killers have to them. Only brought a handful of guys with him down south. He's not like Jessica, he's very well put together, but I think there's no soul under there.
Not to imply that Jessica has anything even remotely approaching a soul. She doesn't. She is an animal, though, while this guy seems more machine than anything else. He gives me the willies.
Anyway, from what Jessica tells me, she's been collaborating with Michael on a few projects...moving money around, mostly...the details will become my problem when she deigns to let me in on them later. He's fairly small-time, but his resources and a couple of his connections are very useful. From what I understand, he runs a printing press for counterfeit cash, which is something Jessica is interested in putting to use. I don't blame her, but I think we could find better guys to do the work for less somewhere else. Oh well.
Somehow, the police got wind of our little meet-up, though. Things got very nasty very quickly, and many bullet holes were made. Many teeth holes were also made, by Jessica, naturally. I had never seen a cop literally shit himself before Jessica charged one of the SWAT guys head-on. The stench was awful. She tackled him to the ground before he had a chance to get a single shot off and tore him to bits, the poor bastard.
That must be how she keeps our boys in line. I wouldn't have believed it was possible, but Jessica has this way about her... men with guns may as well be deer in headlights once she starts after them. I think mostly, she scares people so bad because who would be crazy enough to charge someone with a loaded gun?
Jessica Carter. That's who.
We're supposed to have dinner with Michael on Saturday night, to make up for plans falling apart this first time around. Should be much more relaxed than the shady dealings in dark alleys. I hope there aren't anymore fire-fights. I'm too old for this crap. I'm working on getting some of our boys to look into whether or not it was one of ours that leaked info to the cops. One of Michael's guys has been harassing us about it. I'm just about to blow his head off myself, I'm so sick of the guy. But oh well.
So, as I said, I don't have the next journal entry ready, but if I'm lucky there will be time for that tomorrow night. If I'm doubly lucky, there will be absolutely nothing of interest to report about dinner with Michael on Saturday. I'm not looking forward to convincing Jessica to eat normal people food.
-Mr. Flint
Doubtless, my humble audience took note of my week-long absence. Jessica and I had business to attend to, so unfortunately, the next entry in Bradley's journal isn't ready for the world just yet. More than likely, it will go up tomorrow night. Things are settling down for us. That meeting on the south side went...well, south, frankly.
We met up with this Michael bloke down south, surrounded by warehouses and dank little office buildings. The area was mostly abandoned. I know that more than a few homeless people squat in those warehouses, which is why it's generally safe to operate from there without worrying about the police nosing in on business.
Jessica doesn't have much good sense, if you ask me, to be going in with this guy. I don't like the look of him. He's quiet, pale, with the sort of attitude only the real killers have to them. Only brought a handful of guys with him down south. He's not like Jessica, he's very well put together, but I think there's no soul under there.
Not to imply that Jessica has anything even remotely approaching a soul. She doesn't. She is an animal, though, while this guy seems more machine than anything else. He gives me the willies.
Anyway, from what Jessica tells me, she's been collaborating with Michael on a few projects...moving money around, mostly...the details will become my problem when she deigns to let me in on them later. He's fairly small-time, but his resources and a couple of his connections are very useful. From what I understand, he runs a printing press for counterfeit cash, which is something Jessica is interested in putting to use. I don't blame her, but I think we could find better guys to do the work for less somewhere else. Oh well.
Somehow, the police got wind of our little meet-up, though. Things got very nasty very quickly, and many bullet holes were made. Many teeth holes were also made, by Jessica, naturally. I had never seen a cop literally shit himself before Jessica charged one of the SWAT guys head-on. The stench was awful. She tackled him to the ground before he had a chance to get a single shot off and tore him to bits, the poor bastard.
That must be how she keeps our boys in line. I wouldn't have believed it was possible, but Jessica has this way about her... men with guns may as well be deer in headlights once she starts after them. I think mostly, she scares people so bad because who would be crazy enough to charge someone with a loaded gun?
Jessica Carter. That's who.
We're supposed to have dinner with Michael on Saturday night, to make up for plans falling apart this first time around. Should be much more relaxed than the shady dealings in dark alleys. I hope there aren't anymore fire-fights. I'm too old for this crap. I'm working on getting some of our boys to look into whether or not it was one of ours that leaked info to the cops. One of Michael's guys has been harassing us about it. I'm just about to blow his head off myself, I'm so sick of the guy. But oh well.
So, as I said, I don't have the next journal entry ready, but if I'm lucky there will be time for that tomorrow night. If I'm doubly lucky, there will be absolutely nothing of interest to report about dinner with Michael on Saturday. I'm not looking forward to convincing Jessica to eat normal people food.
-Mr. Flint
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Questions
I don't have an update ready to post tonight. Formatting these things is awful, let me tell you. And anyway, Jessica and I have been busy. More on that later. Right now I'm curious as to whether the format of future journal entries should be tweaked or not. Would including Jessica's annotations as foot-notes at the bottom read better? Is the current format okay? Should Jessica's comments stay where they are, while mine end up being at the bottom?
Comment on this post to let me know...still trying to iron out the kinks of this whole chronicler business...
-Mr. Flint
Comment on this post to let me know...still trying to iron out the kinks of this whole chronicler business...
-Mr. Flint
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
"Party Time"
So, the first entry Ms. Carter posted had a date of April 4th, 2011. The closest I can find to that in this mess of papers on my desk is April 16th, 2011. There may be missing entries, but I don't think there are. Bradley was rattled by what he writes about in this one, I think it took him a while to put it into words. The penmanship's a lot shakier. Ah well. Presented to you here is the next entry in Bradley's journal, annotated by Ms. Carter in red, no italics. I've included red asterisks in the original text to indicate which part of Bradley's story I think each of Ms. Carter's comments are referring to. Sometimes she's drawn helpful arrows, sometimes she hasn't. Ms. Carter is fickle like that, so some of my asterisks are more accurate than others, I'd guess.
(Can you tell that she's insisting I refer to her as 'Ms. Carter' right now? Because she is.)
April 16, 2011
She said she was gonna 'host a party'. What a fuckin' joke.*
*NO JOKE KIDDO NO JOKE
Not really like any party I've ever been to. Nobody had any fun. I didn't have any fun.
Fuck I gotta write this down, I know I've got to write this down but I don't want to. I don't even want to think about it ever again. But if I don't, I'll go crazy trying to keep it inside. My mom* was big on expression. Always said it would ease a troubled mind and soothe a savage soul. Not sure if it'll do either of those things anymore.
*THE BITCH IS AN IMPOSTER. you can't trust her little Bradley, no no no. She may have been big on a lot of things but she's old and grey and dead and you're alive. You're a living fucking thing! Living things should not take advice from dead things [text gets too bunched up to read after this.]
I still jump every time the phone rings. She called...a week ago, I think?* She called up a bunch of us, sounded very excited about something. We got invited to this party...only it wasn't a party at all.** She had us meet her out at one of Joshua's old places, a little house in the middle of nowhere we used to take fucks who hadn't paid up money they owed for lessons. One of those places.
*Rock-a-bye Bradley, when the phone rings. When the phone rings, his bowels will fail. Then Bradley will cry like a BIG FUCKING BABY!!!
**that's ridiculous of COURSE IT WAS a PARTY! all of my parties are the height of fashion, very chic, very "in". I have always wanted to hold parties like these. No one ever wants to come so I make them come! when I first started having them I set them up aaaaall by myself. Don't remember this one, because I wore the theme out....
I remember the smell, mostly. It was so strong the minute I walked through the door. Hell, as soon as Derek opened the door it got nasty. He swore and ran off back to his car. A couple of us got brave, or stupid, enough to go check out what the hell it was. That stench was decay, is what it was. I'd smelled it before, knew it immediately, we all did. And there was so much blood...[scribbled out text. I suspect this was Bradley's doing, rather than Ms. Carter's.] Fuckin' everywhere. Like I've never seen this much blood in my life, and I have fucked guys up real bad before.
She'd rigged some kind of intercom system up all over the place.* I don't know how the fuck she did that, but her voice came in loud and clear over these little stereos plugged in in every room. Don't know how she got that hooked up, don't care. It was fuckin spooky, is what it was.
*I did it myself! Took several hours and lots of screaming.
The next thing I know, she started giggling like some school girl. She tells us all 'Go upstairs, my little ducklings, I have a surprise for all of you.'* I know I was pretty convinced we were about to get killed. Most of the guys there that night were. But somehow she knew we weren't moving, because she started screaming pretty loud** about how we weren't going anywhere and how she'd kill us all if we didn't. We high-tailed it pretty fast after that. Fucked up bitch.
*I'll be honest...I'm no good at surprises. It's all well and good to see the look on the person who is being surprised's face, but it takes patience that I haven't got to lay in wait and not be gratified immediately. IT'S NO FUN. When I was little I used to smash the little bunnies in our backyard with bricks...catching them was always so hard. They were very hard to surprise. So I learned how to surprise that way. But I still don't enjoy it. It's been so many years....so many dead bunnies....once, I even managed to surprise some policemen who were trying to catch me! That was almost fun! But seeing their brains all over the walls and the floor after I smashed them with bricks was the most fun part. Not the surprise part.... [Note: This entire paragraph was written out on a sticky-note Ms. Carter stapled to Bradley's original work. The fact that it goes into Ms. Carter's views on surprises are what lead me to conclude it was intended to refer to this particular section.]
**I FUCKING HATE SLOW-POKES. HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE THEM
...that little girl...that poor little girl...
That's what the 'surprise' was, it was a little girl tied to a chair in one of the rooms upstairs. She couldn't have been older than twelve. so gruesome. it looked like someone had cut her open at the belly, let her intestines fall out. I couldn't move, none of us could. Shit was fucked up. I've seen some bad things but..... she was still alive! Who the fuck does that to a twelve year old girl!*
*Oh, I know who! Me! It's me! The answer is me! [There is a doodle of Ms. Carter raising her hand in the margin.]
Body parts strewn all over the floor around her. Not her's, I'm pretty sure, 'cause there were arms and hearts and....all kinds of fucked up shit.* There was a collection of buckets on our side of the room, and she... Her voice over the speakers told us to cut the girl up. Told us to tear out whatever organs we could find, in tact or in pieces, she didn't care. We had to put them in the buckets, load them up into a truck outside, and...
*No humans were harmed during the making of this journal. Except for all of them. Each and every one cut up by your's truly! I'm very good at it. I took my time with each one...carved beautiful blood and meat sculptures...[Illegible scribbling. Looks like 'open the doors to Heaven'?]
The whole time that little girl was crying and begging us to just kill her or return her to her mommy. One of my friends, he refused to do it. he went downstairs, got in his car, and left. Haven't heard from him since. I hope he got the fuck out of town. There was a guy in the front seat of the truck. He must have been one of ours, I don't see how he couldn't have been. I remember the look in his eyes though...scared. So scared.
We did it, though.* At least she died quickly. But I've never felt so fucked up in my life. Maybe I'll buy a plane ticket, move somewhere and never look back. I could do it.**
*She tasted so sweet, like a pear!
**No he couldn't. He didn't. He won't. NEVER. WON'T LET YOU.
I don't know what else to do.
There's your answer, Sanna. That's what one of Ms. Carter's 'parties' is like. Not exactly my idea of a good time, but eh, different strokes for different folks. Right?
Anyway, I've found the next entry in Bradley's journal already, but it's getting late and I'm an old man who needs his sleep. Next post will go up tomorrow, if I'm feeling up to it and Ms. Carter and I aren't busy. I've got to make sure she makes it to a meet-up on the south end of town some time in the afternoon, so we'll see how that goes. A couple of people need punishing, Ms. Carter tells me.
-Mr. Flint
(Can you tell that she's insisting I refer to her as 'Ms. Carter' right now? Because she is.)
April 16, 2011
She said she was gonna 'host a party'. What a fuckin' joke.*
*NO JOKE KIDDO NO JOKE
Not really like any party I've ever been to. Nobody had any fun. I didn't have any fun.
Fuck I gotta write this down, I know I've got to write this down but I don't want to. I don't even want to think about it ever again. But if I don't, I'll go crazy trying to keep it inside. My mom* was big on expression. Always said it would ease a troubled mind and soothe a savage soul. Not sure if it'll do either of those things anymore.
*THE BITCH IS AN IMPOSTER. you can't trust her little Bradley, no no no. She may have been big on a lot of things but she's old and grey and dead and you're alive. You're a living fucking thing! Living things should not take advice from dead things [text gets too bunched up to read after this.]
I still jump every time the phone rings. She called...a week ago, I think?* She called up a bunch of us, sounded very excited about something. We got invited to this party...only it wasn't a party at all.** She had us meet her out at one of Joshua's old places, a little house in the middle of nowhere we used to take fucks who hadn't paid up money they owed for lessons. One of those places.
*Rock-a-bye Bradley, when the phone rings. When the phone rings, his bowels will fail. Then Bradley will cry like a BIG FUCKING BABY!!!
**that's ridiculous of COURSE IT WAS a PARTY! all of my parties are the height of fashion, very chic, very "in". I have always wanted to hold parties like these. No one ever wants to come so I make them come! when I first started having them I set them up aaaaall by myself. Don't remember this one, because I wore the theme out....
I remember the smell, mostly. It was so strong the minute I walked through the door. Hell, as soon as Derek opened the door it got nasty. He swore and ran off back to his car. A couple of us got brave, or stupid, enough to go check out what the hell it was. That stench was decay, is what it was. I'd smelled it before, knew it immediately, we all did. And there was so much blood...[scribbled out text. I suspect this was Bradley's doing, rather than Ms. Carter's.] Fuckin' everywhere. Like I've never seen this much blood in my life, and I have fucked guys up real bad before.
She'd rigged some kind of intercom system up all over the place.* I don't know how the fuck she did that, but her voice came in loud and clear over these little stereos plugged in in every room. Don't know how she got that hooked up, don't care. It was fuckin spooky, is what it was.
*I did it myself! Took several hours and lots of screaming.
The next thing I know, she started giggling like some school girl. She tells us all 'Go upstairs, my little ducklings, I have a surprise for all of you.'* I know I was pretty convinced we were about to get killed. Most of the guys there that night were. But somehow she knew we weren't moving, because she started screaming pretty loud** about how we weren't going anywhere and how she'd kill us all if we didn't. We high-tailed it pretty fast after that. Fucked up bitch.
*I'll be honest...I'm no good at surprises. It's all well and good to see the look on the person who is being surprised's face, but it takes patience that I haven't got to lay in wait and not be gratified immediately. IT'S NO FUN. When I was little I used to smash the little bunnies in our backyard with bricks...catching them was always so hard. They were very hard to surprise. So I learned how to surprise that way. But I still don't enjoy it. It's been so many years....so many dead bunnies....once, I even managed to surprise some policemen who were trying to catch me! That was almost fun! But seeing their brains all over the walls and the floor after I smashed them with bricks was the most fun part. Not the surprise part.... [Note: This entire paragraph was written out on a sticky-note Ms. Carter stapled to Bradley's original work. The fact that it goes into Ms. Carter's views on surprises are what lead me to conclude it was intended to refer to this particular section.]
**I FUCKING HATE SLOW-POKES. HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE THEM
...that little girl...that poor little girl...
That's what the 'surprise' was, it was a little girl tied to a chair in one of the rooms upstairs. She couldn't have been older than twelve. so gruesome. it looked like someone had cut her open at the belly, let her intestines fall out. I couldn't move, none of us could. Shit was fucked up. I've seen some bad things but..... she was still alive! Who the fuck does that to a twelve year old girl!*
*Oh, I know who! Me! It's me! The answer is me! [There is a doodle of Ms. Carter raising her hand in the margin.]
Body parts strewn all over the floor around her. Not her's, I'm pretty sure, 'cause there were arms and hearts and....all kinds of fucked up shit.* There was a collection of buckets on our side of the room, and she... Her voice over the speakers told us to cut the girl up. Told us to tear out whatever organs we could find, in tact or in pieces, she didn't care. We had to put them in the buckets, load them up into a truck outside, and...
*No humans were harmed during the making of this journal. Except for all of them. Each and every one cut up by your's truly! I'm very good at it. I took my time with each one...carved beautiful blood and meat sculptures...[Illegible scribbling. Looks like 'open the doors to Heaven'?]
The whole time that little girl was crying and begging us to just kill her or return her to her mommy. One of my friends, he refused to do it. he went downstairs, got in his car, and left. Haven't heard from him since. I hope he got the fuck out of town. There was a guy in the front seat of the truck. He must have been one of ours, I don't see how he couldn't have been. I remember the look in his eyes though...scared. So scared.
We did it, though.* At least she died quickly. But I've never felt so fucked up in my life. Maybe I'll buy a plane ticket, move somewhere and never look back. I could do it.**
*She tasted so sweet, like a pear!
**No he couldn't. He didn't. He won't. NEVER. WON'T LET YOU.
I don't know what else to do.
There's your answer, Sanna. That's what one of Ms. Carter's 'parties' is like. Not exactly my idea of a good time, but eh, different strokes for different folks. Right?
Anyway, I've found the next entry in Bradley's journal already, but it's getting late and I'm an old man who needs his sleep. Next post will go up tomorrow, if I'm feeling up to it and Ms. Carter and I aren't busy. I've got to make sure she makes it to a meet-up on the south end of town some time in the afternoon, so we'll see how that goes. A couple of people need punishing, Ms. Carter tells me.
-Mr. Flint
Monday, February 3, 2014
Mayhem and Monsters(but mostly just monotony)
Well, ah, fuck it I guess.
She wants the story told, and she asked me to tell it. And honestly? I'm not about to argue with her.
Hi, you can call me Mr. Flint. I work for a monster, too. And to be honest with you, aside from the screaming, it's not all that horrifying. I've heard plenty of screams over the years. These ones aren't so different. I just deliver messages, most of the time, anyway. It's not so bad.
Apparently I'm going to be the scribe for one Jessica Carter from now on(and no, I won't be referring to her by the late Bradley's term of endearment, 'The Monster' unless she explicitly asks me to. It's hard to argue with a woman who regularly eats eyeballs off forks.)
So what does that mean for this blog?
First off, it means a lot more coherence. Jess has asked that I continue transcribing Bradley's journals here(yes, she is still convinced that he was her son) for all the world to see. But I can put the pieces together a lot faster and a lot more cleanly, despite the fact that Jess has taken a big red crayon to a lot of what he wrote. Apparently, there are a lot of stories recorded by Bradley that she wants told. She's only just shown the loose sheets of journal paper to me, so it's going to take some time to compile things in the right order. Especially since she's scribbled out some of the dates. I think she just enjoys intentionally obfuscating things.
Second, I'll be able to give you a better read-out than she will on what's going on right now, on a day-to-day basis. Jess has taken me on as a sort of errand boy slash personal assistant, so I spend most of my time in close proximity with the crazy kook. There's a lot she gets up to, being a mob boss and all- and yes, she is exactly that. I'm not sure whether she has the capacity to explain all of it. She's smart, but in more of a primal, instinctive sense than a 'sit down and contemplate the mysteries of the universe' kind of way. Writing things down as they happen, accurately, is not exactly her strong suit. As you've all seen.
I know this blog hasn't been active for a few months now. Pretty sure it was bugging Jess that she hadn't kept on with the story. Which is odd. But she hired me to write the rest of it down, so it must have been important to her somehow. Not really sure if there'll be an audience for this, but...eh, whatever, I don't care.
Next journal entry goes up tomorrow. Gotta go see a man about a debt.
-Mr. Flint
She wants the story told, and she asked me to tell it. And honestly? I'm not about to argue with her.
Hi, you can call me Mr. Flint. I work for a monster, too. And to be honest with you, aside from the screaming, it's not all that horrifying. I've heard plenty of screams over the years. These ones aren't so different. I just deliver messages, most of the time, anyway. It's not so bad.
Apparently I'm going to be the scribe for one Jessica Carter from now on(and no, I won't be referring to her by the late Bradley's term of endearment, 'The Monster' unless she explicitly asks me to. It's hard to argue with a woman who regularly eats eyeballs off forks.)
So what does that mean for this blog?
First off, it means a lot more coherence. Jess has asked that I continue transcribing Bradley's journals here(yes, she is still convinced that he was her son) for all the world to see. But I can put the pieces together a lot faster and a lot more cleanly, despite the fact that Jess has taken a big red crayon to a lot of what he wrote. Apparently, there are a lot of stories recorded by Bradley that she wants told. She's only just shown the loose sheets of journal paper to me, so it's going to take some time to compile things in the right order. Especially since she's scribbled out some of the dates. I think she just enjoys intentionally obfuscating things.
Second, I'll be able to give you a better read-out than she will on what's going on right now, on a day-to-day basis. Jess has taken me on as a sort of errand boy slash personal assistant, so I spend most of my time in close proximity with the crazy kook. There's a lot she gets up to, being a mob boss and all- and yes, she is exactly that. I'm not sure whether she has the capacity to explain all of it. She's smart, but in more of a primal, instinctive sense than a 'sit down and contemplate the mysteries of the universe' kind of way. Writing things down as they happen, accurately, is not exactly her strong suit. As you've all seen.
I know this blog hasn't been active for a few months now. Pretty sure it was bugging Jess that she hadn't kept on with the story. Which is odd. But she hired me to write the rest of it down, so it must have been important to her somehow. Not really sure if there'll be an audience for this, but...eh, whatever, I don't care.
Next journal entry goes up tomorrow. Gotta go see a man about a debt.
-Mr. Flint
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