Well, Sanna's finally pegged out. I was just having a friendly chat with her, seeing how she was holding up now that everyone who cared about her died, and she straight up stabbed herself in the chest :)
Maybe I shouldn't have given her a knife, but, hindsight's 20/20, right? Probably would've done the same thing anyway, knowing how it'd go. I was counting on it.
So I'm a wee bit pissed off right now. Sanna's turned on me. And she sided with Deimos to do it. Lovett would be crushed.
She calls me, asks me to meet her. I go, of course. You know what happens? There's a sniper waiting for me. I bite a bullet. two more in the chest. Like that would be enough to stop me. Fuckers didn't know who they were dealing with. Hurt like a bitch, though. And healing isn't my strong suite. Still, they're pretty stupid if they think <i>that</i> would put me down for more than a couple of days.
He thought they killed you.
You know what? I really don't get it. I've been playing by your rules, acting moral, and you still want me dead? Might as well just kill whoever I want. And that's on you, Sanna. Every man, woman and child who dies because of this is your fault.
So I went ahead and met with Sanna. Yes, that is the one who wants to kill me, and probably has the best chance of pulling it off. What's life without a little danger?
BORING. I went because I was expecting some kind of ambush or trap or something, but there was nothing. We went for a walk, talked about very little of import. Hell, I was even reasonably honest about stuff. But the walking and talking is more Lovett's thing; I don't see the appeal of answering a bunch of questions. Unsatisfying, stripping away the mystery like that. Like showing people how Houdini hid the elephant; It just misses the point. Why is it you people are so concerned with understanding? Do you think it'll help you survive?
She threw a knife at me. In my general direction, anyway. Still not sure why she's throw away what looked like her only weapon. People are odd, sometimes. Too much emotion, wastes energy and makes you do weird stuff. I won't even bother pretending to understand it, myself. Guess I have a better perspective, looking in from the outside. I can see stuff that you people do that's just weird, but that same perspective stops it from being understandable.
I'm rambling. Point is, I saw Sanna, had a friendly chat, killed a doctor, and all in all, it was a pretty good day.
Guess I should probably update this blog. Air my feelings, get catharsis and all that bullshit. It makes sense to stay in touch, though.
I've been staying in London, with Sanna. It helps both of us, I think, having someone there who wants to help. It's been tough, adjusting to my hand being gone, and just having someone else to turn to has... helped seems like too small a word. Not enough to cover the amount Sanna has done for me. Thank you, Sanna. I don't say that nearly often enough.
Speaking of the hand, it's been rough. Still feels like there's a hand there, which doesn't help. I still look down, sometimes, and think maybe I'll see something, maybe this was all a bad dream and I'll see a hand down there. It's so fucking stupid, but I almost feel disappointed, when I see it. I'm a fucking idiot. It's amazing how much a missing hand can fuck your balance, too. Stops you bandaging yourself up. makes it hard to open bottles, cans. Just these fucking little things, every day, and I just have to deal with it. I'm feeling a little cooped up, in my own body. If that even makes any sense.
I should probably get a prosthetic, but theres something in me that doesn't like the idea. Feels like it'd be making it official, I guess. Having a clumsy false replacement. It's stupid, and irrational, but I still haven't got in touch with anyone. a bit of cowardice, I guess, but isn't that allowable, after so long?
I shouldn't be complaining. I'm still alive, for one. I can still help, still have the resources to rent a place to stay. Have a roof over my head. And I have some of the best friends anyone could ask for. I'll survive this, and come out the other side.
We manages to get Sanna back, as you've probably read here. We went onto the path and we fucking walked away alive. Got there just in the nick of time, though. I guess thanks are in order; We probably couldn't have done it without you, Kyrylo. Thanks for telling us where she was.
For the rescue itself, you're probably best off checking what Ronnie wrote. Nature of the path, I guess, that I don't remember much of what happened. No real details, just the sensation of being faster and stronger and knowing where everything, everyone was. I've been away from the path for too long. Maybe if I'd been less of a coward, I wouldn't have had to do what I did to deal with the poison. But that's something to deal with later.
I got a call from Ronnie, said she had a plan to get Sanna out. I was having some trouble making arrangements to deal with it muyself, so I figured I'd help Ronnie. The idea of leaving a kid to go to the path alone didn't appeal to me much, either. I'm an idiot. When I got to the meeting place, she wasn't alone. And I'm not talking about the dog, either. Bloody decietful proxies. After the initial 'fuck a Timberwolf kill him before he kills me' moment, I headed over. Figured a Timberwolf wouldn't hesitate to kill a little girl if they didn't have a reason to keep her alive, so it may be that this one would be useful. He was, by the way. Thanks Rasmus, shame about the anger management bit.
I remember arguing with Rasmus, afterwards. I probably should've focussed on helping to patch Sanna up (kicking myself that I went with the bullshit machismo thing instead), but right off the path, blood and azoth pounding… I guess I was a little off-kilter. Can you really blame me?
So now I'm waiting in a safehouse of Ronnie's. Sanna hasn't been awake for more than a few minutes at a time; The path can do that to you, not to mention all the other shit she's been through. Not much to do but let her recover in her own time. Wish I'd learned more first aid.
i fot the cctv footage, from where Sanna was takwn. they killed her, this group of timberwolves. shot her twice. then, after they left, kyrylo drove up, took her body. people walked right past, didn't lift a fucking finger to help her.
the timberwolves need to pay, all of them. they keep trying to kill the people I love, ever since they decided to take london. i won't let them win this fight, even if it kills me.
Sorry for mu lack og presence online recently The timbwrwolves burned down my bolthole, I couldn't get anything out. probably thought I was working for the proxies. but they wouldn't take me. the skinny fucker made a rift there. nobody there wants me alive, not anymore.
i shouldve stayed away from london. it was fucked up, coming back.
Sorry to all those who wanted a sample of tge poison. it burned with everything else. between the fire and orher concerns, ive been trying to get away from all the fighting. i can't deal with it, not now. Rhe timberwolves haven't made it easy. they aren't putting effort into hunting me down, I'm not worth the work, but they're everywhere. i can't fight. I can't run.
what am i supposed to do now?
So I've been in a steady saefhouse for the past few days. Pretty sure it's been about that long. Really nice place, underground. I think it was meant to be some kind of bunker; parts of it are a faraday cage, which is actually pretty irritating. But, beinng underground, and having all the lightbulbs broken, it has no light; suits me down to the ground.
Funny story as to how I found it, actually. Deimos has some people here, coming after me because of his vendetta. they had me on the run, and I found an entrance trying to hide. I figured, I cant keep running, what with my leg, so I'll go to ground.
I'm feeling pretty manic right now, if i didn't know better I'd think I was a little high. nt sure why that is. might just be tings working out in my favour.
So I'd hunkered down in this cellar. there were three of them, and they knew whree I was. That had me worried; never been in a fair fight when I could help it, let alone outnumbered and outgunned. If it hadn't been for the rats and such tipping me off, I don't know what I would've done. Guess I'm a fucking idiot to get myself backed into a corner like that. If i hadn't got ucky I would've died for my stupidity, and ain't that a scary thought. But I didn't. I got down here, and they followed. But in the dark, I got one, and the other shot his friend accidentally and ran off. Trigger happy moron. Doesn't know what it mens to be a proxy; he wasn't even wearing a mask.
I guess I understand why some groups forgo masks. Makes it harder to pose as a proxy, makes you seem more human. hell of a lot easier for people to shoot someone without a face, if they don't have to look them in th eye. But being a proxy means dehumanizing yourself. Being different, not in the same category. He has no need of humans serving Him, just channels for the azoth to flow. Trying to hold onto humanity, trying to be a person? it seems wrong.
Fuck it. probably just lack of sleep talking there. even more rambling and nonsensical than usual.
So Deimos is alive. I thought he was, the bomb was never meant to kill him, just make things more convincing. I don't want him dead. Not sure why, I've done too much to try to take the moral high ground now. He made it to Mosccow, not sure how long ago, with a few proxies. None I recognise from his original team. Might be something happened to them, or he's in charge of more people now. That would make sense; always best to avoid going after somweone with people that know them. leads to hesitation. The original team hesitated, that saved my life once.
They've kept me on he move, one safehouse after another. Pretty much all my things burned when they firebombed one, a while ago. No more tramadol, which sucks pretty bad. No gun, no bombs, no food. Didn't even have time to get my crutch.Got nothing but a few knoves that I had on me before. Fuvk it, Ive burned enough people tht i can't complaibn about the reversal.
I hate this, thouggh. Dpon't speak the language, no money, Can't stop because they're always one step behind. I don't sleep much, but there are limits. I just have to keep pushing through it. Least they'ce slowed down recently. managed to lose them for a while, thts bben good.Lasted all day.
On the leg front, things arent so bad. Even wirhout the crutches, I can get about fairly well. Just need a wall to lean on, chances to sit down. The azoth helps, I think. Keeps iy muted, the pain, I mean. Sometimes I have trouble telling which thoughts are coming from me and which are coming from it. There anyone who knws a psychaitrist who knows about the Fears andisn't a murderous lunatic? Who doesn't mind talking to a murrderous lunatic as well, i guess.Probably not, but thatmight be for the best.
Think I saw Thompson again, but that might have ben a trick of the Light. I hope so.
Can't deal with that again.
My memories are still going. None that I'd want to get rid of,though. Tose always stay. Can't actually re,ember my birthday. During the winter, i think. Doesn't really msatter, does it? 'Coingratulations, you were born'. and boy did that turn out well.
So I'm in Moscow. Sanna's with me, she's safe(ish), with any luck we'll be our of dodge by next week.
So, some explaining of what happened. If you want details, go to Sanna's blog. I've never been much good at this stuff.
For reasons I don't intend to get into, Dimir owed me a favour. I cashed it in; he wanted Artsyom dead anyone. Since I could find them (long story how. Might tell it later) we made it thete in good time. Course, I can't walk so well, so I missed the beginning. Got there in time to see Artsyom hightail it out, two of Dimirs men grab Sanna. Well, one was a woman.
That was tense. Wasn't sure if they were planning a betrayal, and that was fucking terrifying. The thought of getting so far just to fail there, at the scene...
So I tried asking them not to, to let her go. Surprised when they did. Maybe in paranoid.
Once she knew who I was, we got to talking. She said, 'do I look like someone who cares about dying?' Really hit home how bad things were, worse than I thought. I'm worried about you, Sanna. Wish there was something I could say to help, but I'm no good at this. Just, take care of yourself. It's never too late for things to get better, long as you keep going. Things will get better. They have to.
We're at my safehouse now. Not quite the Hilton, but I managed to scavenge up a few things here and there. It'll suffice.
As some of you may have read here, I'm still alive. Faked my death. Thee was a good reason. Might still be a good reason.
The British agency, the AFTF, they have a habit of blackmail. They found out something about me, tried to use it as leverage. So I faked my own death, riled up the timberwolves. Think I managed to burn their file on me, but just in case, anyone sees a bunch of millitary types in Chelmsford, send word. That means you, Clara.
As for the Agency, I need a favour. Found a need to get to Russia, no time to wait around in a hospital bed.
You all seem to think I'm a giod
person, that I'm... worthwhile. I'm not. In London, I worked with
oathbreakers and timberwolves, lrt them experiment and kill because I
needed their help. I've sold runners out to proxies and timberwolves
out to rinners, and I've killed inoocent people time and again. thwn
o put on a smule, blogged about the good things, played at beinh
decent. I'm a fucking fraud. When they broke mu leg, I deserved evry
The axoth won't let me kill mydelf.
Nothing so simple. I sent Deimos my location. This safehouse is full
of ebery bomb I have. One way or the other, this ends.
Maybe there's something beyond, with
Jeff and Pascal and Jinn. You've got to have hope, right?
Veigar, I owe you so damn much, but I
was never coming back from this. Sent everything I could find on
Bill. Hope it helps.
Sanna, sorry things ended like this. I
know you can get through this, live the life you wanted. Please.
Sam, I left skin cells, blood samples,
parts of my diary. Same place as that first book on the cold ones.
Might be useful.
Fait warning, rhis post is giing to be pretty seld-centred. Probablu not worth your time.
I sent a blood sample to Cartwright's agency, recwntly. Had to rob pllage dovtors, so I wanted to know if I was infected. Sent a dample of my blood. They didn't gind anything from the oathbreakrrs, but ehat they did fins was anmost as. bad. The azoth, thetes enough of it to kill. Or hollow you out. Only reason tgat hasnt happened is. Well, i dint know. I dnt think the azoth is alibe, or consxius. Hasn't spoken to me. Dint have tentacles, still ferl pain.
But some thinfs dont add up. Haven't slept since at ceigar's bunker. Didnt really notice before, but lookibg back, it's not rught. Not human.
It definitely has some control. Wont let me die, nut easilt. Cant put a gun in my mouth and blow my brains out. But it didnt protect me in that fucking crllar. It doesn't block rbe pain.
Might ve that azoth is all thats keepibg me alive, they said that there was stuff missibg in my blood, immune sustem ans some other studf.
Dpnt know if I want to live off ghat. Guess thetes not muxh chouce.
People have said thay're interested in the story behind how I got fucked up. Two people, anywau. So here it is. Not exactly onspiring stuff, be warned.
I was in Jersey. Had a safehouse there. Nice place, I could get a fair warninh if anyone shifty arrived in the area. I thought I could get a ffair warning if thrre was anyone shifty in the area. So fucking stupid. You're never safe, and when you think you are youre deluding yoursel fand that can get you killed. Or worse. Think of this ad a cautinary tale. Dont fuck up like I did.
There're a couple of runners. They ere in London. I did some bad things, it wad my job. The fucking job, it's too fucking easy to justift. I killed people. In the name of the fucking großmanN. No way to justify that. The past catches up on you when you deserve it. No hiding frim it.
I got sloppy, incautious. Took a taxi to the airport. Didn't mske it, they had a car. Stopped in front. Shot the cabbie took me to this house. Just a regular fucking house. Think it might have been like tge one I lived in. Barely fuvking remember by now. Guess ots a mercy. Can't miss what you can't remember.
The police arrived after a few days, I think. The owners got killed when the runners moved in. John Thompson. And another. Cant remember the others name. Someone fuled a missing persons thing. Not sure what happened to them, the runbers. The olice took me to a hospital. God damn hospitals. Hatw them so fucking much. Feeling at their mercy, nothing to stop them from doing anything thev want. Had to get out, stole a phone soon as i coukd, put out an call for gelp. Rest of the stoey you kbow.
But hey, at least I survoved, right? I'm fucking fine. Apaet frpm the walking thing. Ill adapt. Its what I do.
Sorry to lave in such a hurry, but there was something there, in the bunker. Looked twisted, like a portrait of the Slenderman left out in the rain. And I think it saw me, it was pressing into my mind. Couldn't stay there, stole clothes and a crutch, left quietly. Sorry.
Don't come after me, hate to get you into trouble with other proxies or the Slenderman, you've already done too much forme. I'll be fine. Thanks for everything youve done.
As you've probably already read, I met Kelevra. In return for him topping Artsyom, I hand over some files I'd picked up on him. Suprisingly enough, it would seem he was on the level; sent the ear to a friend at a hospital, DNA matches Artsyom's (don't ask). That said, Sanna, if you would confirm that'd be great, 'cause I haven't heard anything about an explosion in Moscow...
It pretty much happened as Kelevra said on his blog. Go read that, cause I don't remember half the details.