Job's a good'un

So, my stay in Moldova has come to an end.  Got Maddie off to some lake (brings back memories), then took the opportunity to have a poke around over at her place. I was expecting to find some paperwork, burn some stuff, steal some other stuff; you know, just put a wee bit of pressure on. But Sanna had other plans :-).

It would seem that she managed to fight her way out of that hellhole, I found her outside Maddie's door holding a knife. She was pretty hurt, but she'll heal. If needs be, I learned some first aid from Jeff and Grace. Perks of being a proxy.

So, job's done, and we are getting the hell out of dodge. Nowt here but people to leave.



You lucky bitch! You have the wonderful opportunity to meet me, right here in Moldova.

Seriously, Imma emphasize how lucky you are that a gap opened in my busy schedule of providing surgery to your associates so that I could waste it on an ugly bint like you. And because Lovett is feeling poetic, I won't even kill you!

On an unrelated note, I'm just gonna thank Carter and his team for the equipment. Haven't had the chance to use the explosives yet, but everything else has been extremely high quality workmanship. Hope the payment was sufficient.



She's in Moldova.

And how do I know this? I had a rather charming chat with Remiel. Not to mention his delicious grandfather. Thought the name sounded familiar, fucker was the only nest we knew about in Shropshire. From the proxies, I think.
He didn't seem pleased to see me. Not a good host, tried to call the police when I turned up; as if breaking a window was some kind of crime! So I tazed him a couple of times. Fucker woke up tied to a chair, doused in gasoline. Soon as I got what I wanted, woof. I did say I'd looked into killing nests.

He tried to struggle, but stopped pretty soon when I dragged his grandad in, started working him over. Start with the fingers, snap snap snap. Then cut them off. The old guy was screaming pretty loud. It was irritating, so I broke his jaw.
Meanwhile, there Remiel was, babbling about not hurting his grandfather, that he'd tell me anything. Well, I'm a nice guy. Open to making deals for the common good. I would have been perfectly willing to stop hurting the old shit as soon as he told me what I wanted to know. The azoth was against that, but we made a deal. I stopped cutting for long enough to get a country. Moldova. Then I started again, slowly dragging the knife along the thighs. Cut myself some nice steaks. Maybe I should have waited longer, found out where in Moldova, but to be frank I just didn't feel like it. They screamed while they burned. 'Twas a sight to behold.

Ah, but Phillip. I hear you say. How do you know he wasn't lying?
Well, disembodied voice, I'll tell you. I'm not entirely stupid; before I burned it all, I found a nice stack of paperwork. Boring shit, payments owed and poor sons (and daughters) of bitches sent off to parts unknown. Only recent ones were in Ukraine. That, and an email to some sick fucker in Moldova from his computer, tells me all I need to know. Anyway, steaks are done. Then, next stop Odesa.


Meeting Sanna

So, those of you who read Maddie's blog probably know that I met Sanna recently. Delivered the info on her father, as promised. Hope it helps.

Sorry Sanna, but you need help. Someone to lean on. Maddy's heart's in the right place, but you need someone you can trust, who'll be there for you. All the time, not just when the metal hits the meat. Hope you find that person.


I'm back part two

Right, on with the rest of the story. When I left off, I'd jus spotted the archangel. Dude scares me. Not the same as Slendy, just a fight or flight reaction, blind panic. Archangel is colder, almost. A slower terror, founded in the knowledge that that thing can keep me alive forever. So when I saw it, I didn' panic. Knew it was pissed, gut reaction. Didn't like that I used the timberwolves, I guess. There was that creeping feeling. Like shivers under your skin.

So there it was. Started coming closer, so I got the fuck out of there. The quickest way I know how. The path. I knew that it was the end of me, that Slendy would find me and, best case scenario, kill me quickly. Didn't care. After all, you get killed by a fear, maybe you get oblivion. So, that's plan 'B'.

It didn't take long. He came like a black river, flowing from the ground. I couldn't run. Felt like I was rooted to the path, a fixture. Nowhere to go, no point in running. Where do you run when he is everywhere?

That was when a friend arrived. I won't name names; don't want to put him at risk. But this person, this one man, stared down the slenderman in his own domain. Lived to tell about it too. Distracted him long enough to ease the paralysis. I ran. I must confess, I left not knowing that he would make it out, and when he did catch up? I lied to him, told him I'd go back to London.  If you're reading this, I'm sorry. I was scared, and that's no excuse, no excuse at all.

Anyway. Just met someone who'd been holding a few things for me. Documents, stolen from the archive itself. Tazer. Armoured coat. Generally things one would need to research and perform a certain ritual. Figured it was worth a try, anyway. Finish this once and for all. Keep the vigil.