Saturday, 9 July 2011

-Amanda- Recap Time

Fuckfuckfuckshitfuck. So I guess I should tell you what happened last night. What with having to rescue Steele and all that bullshit.
So we found Steele. The fuck was holed up in a library I didn't even know we fucking had. (And August don't be a fucking smartass I don't want to know what boss man gets up to in that wing) Anyway, we found the stupid fuck holed up in the library. He was screaming something I can't even begin to understand and I really don't want to understand.
Oh, and he was trying to shoot Tall Dark and Motherfucking Creepy. Let's review that sentence. He. Was. Trying. Shoot. Mister Slim. If you follow the fucked up train of a blog you know how monumentally stupid that is. For christ's sake there is one rule, and one rule only all us Runners agree on and that is don't try to fight Him. It just ends in tears. And bodies up trees.
Me and Doc looked at each other and know this is going to be a lot harder than we had bargained for. And we had bargained for a fucking lot. But jesus fucking christ we were going to have to face Him to get Steele back. And I'll admit, I was scared shitless. I don't scare easily, even before all this shit went down. But I was scared last night. Todd was gone, replaced by some Latin-spouting freak, and Sam was hearing voices and August was puking up that shit that smells like tar and smoke and something fucking dead and I was the only sane one. Let that sink in. I was the sane one, the fucking moody insane chick with a fucking crow. And I had to hold this group of sick, sick people together long enough for someone, anyone, to take them away from me.
And now I had to go face Faceless Himself. Fuck my life. Fuck all of our lives. But you don't just leave a teammate. That's not how it is. We fucking need each other and like hell was I leaving Steele there.
So I tell Doc to give me a syringe of the strongest stuff she has cuz we were not getting Steele out of there with out a fight. He was in full on rabid dog mode, just wanted to kill the bastard and get it over with. If only it was that fucking easy.
The plan was simple. Doc would stay at the door as sort of lookout, I'd go in, dose Steele and drag his sorry ass out of there. And we would just pray He would let us go. I haven't prayed that hard since I was ten and my grandmother made me go to church with stories of burning in hell. She's laughing somewhere, the crazy old bitch.
Doc wasn't lying when she said that was strong stuff, Steele went down like a ton of bricks. That was the thing I forgot to account for. I'm a 5'4 scrawny, malnourished weakling and I had to drag him out of there without help. Well, guess what? I fucking did it. Because I had to it. Luckily, Doc helped take some of the weight when I reached her. Then we just had to hightail it out of there. And that's where it all went even more fucking sideways. We were fucking lost in the east wing and I knew He was following us. It's a fucking weight around you, like an iron hand wrapped around your chest. And still we ran, or tried to run, through corridors that made impossible turns and stairs that lead to fucking nowhere. Christ, I never want to see the east wing ever fucking again. Spence can have it, can do what ever he wants with it. It makes me sick to my stomach, messes with my head. It's fucking wrong, plain and simple.
We turned a blind corner and stumbled through a door and suddenly the hand around my chest tightened so much I couldn't breath. I stumble under Steele's weight and I couldn't fucking breathe.
And my only thought was, 'we didn't get Steele out. we failed. i let them down when they needed me.'
And maybe there is a fucking god because right as the world started going gray around the edges, Spencer is just there. I don't remember him being there, I don't remember him getting there and I didn't give a shit because Spencer was fucking there.
Somehow he managed to hoist me up over his shoulder and take Steele's weight. Everything after that is a bit of a blur of dizziness and blackgraywhite. I came to in the kitchen with the others. Someone drank all my coffee, my cigs were gone, it smelled like crap from August's vomit, and I didn't care. Because we were all there and whole, as far as I could tell. And that was more than most people like us could say.


  1. Hey, at least I cleaned it up.

    (It's still stuck in the drain, though. I guess we can't call a plumber, huh?)

    It's... Jesus Rollerblading Christ, I'm so glad everybody's safe. Pancakes all around~!

    (If anybody has any appetite, that is. I know I don't.)

    Can we stop posting now and just enjoy a bit of oh thank god we're all alive time?

  2. You know the smell lingers like a bitch. Nothing we can really do except open some windows.

    But yes, pancakes sound nice. We've fucking earned them.

  3. Well i sure cocked that up. there maple syrup?