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.]

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 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.

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[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.

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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.

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.

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

COM E AND GET ME HONEY, I'M ALL YOUR'S! LOVE YOU LOTS!

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

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.

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