cry havoc

and let loose the dogs of war. It's not a matter of waiting for the storm to come
why wait for something that's already here
but rather making sure you won't lose everything in the process of it rolling through.

But we're doing an awfully good job in that regard, aren't we?








... So. Here we stand. Not down one anymore, but two. Do you know how hard it is to find replacements for you lot? How inconvenient this all is? We've still got fucking deliveries to do and you all. Keep. Dying! How do you expect for us to ever get anything done at all? Fuck, this is a mess. I'm starting to wonder why I even bother, especially when I just end up doing everything myself.

and then you wonder why I make mistakes. It's not my fault, it's yours. It's not my fault. This is YOURS, this is on YOU. It's your fault, you, all of you are just weak I fucking swear I haven't done anything wrong.

I haven't done anything...

Neither did he. Him. Welcome to Courier HQ, where logic is practically made up and time doesn't matter. I'm your host, the Storyteller; were you planning on dying today~?

No! No he wasn't! Because if he was, if that poor proxy was planning on dying like that, maybe he wouldn't have screamed like he was seeing hell itself -so imagine my fucking surprise as I head down to the basement in a fucking panic because I think Lori is down there being butchered or something, only to see her elbow deep in this guy's chest! Imagine my fucking surprise as she heard me coming in and didn't even look up, giving me one of those "just wait a second, Boss, I'm writing this down" type gestures as her "patient", and I use that term fucking loosely, thrashed and whimpered from his place in that fucking twisted theatre. Shit, there was blood everywhere. Lori was painted in it, just calmly scribbling down god knows what as she picked and prodded at the proxy's pinned open gut -God and I have been having a lot more dialogue lately than I'd like to admit- and imagine my sur-fucking-prise when Steele, Leon Steele, the only fucking voice of LOGIC in this House for like EVER, stood in the doorway and only said

"Let her finish."

Finish. Finish!?! Like she was actually doing something other than slowly murdering another person in the most horrible fucking way POSSIBLE?!?

I felt something pound in my ears. I could only... fuck, I could only stare into the proxy's eyes with terror I didn't know I could still feel. And he stared back.

he stared back

"Sam, get in here; if Spence kills again, I think he deserves a few more witnesses."


At that fucking moment, if I could've sold my soul to make him shut up, I would've without a second thought.


Lori...  picked up a piece of bleeding tissue, examining it a moment with a nod before jotting something down in her notebook. I couldn't believe it, her just looking at this guy like he was a... specimen... just waiting to be dissected... I had fired before I even realized it; maybe she'd wake up at the noise and stop this fucking nonsense and everything could go back to the way it was before.

"What the fuck do you think this is?" She just stared. Stared and stared and stared like I had caught her sneaking food before dinnertime. It looked so fucking WRONG. Wrong. Just wrong. I remember wondering if I was going to be sick, and out of the corner of my eye, I just caught Sam, staring at me the exact same way

(it doesn't matter if we all die, because we're already dead)

Steele tutted like a sassy lady in a 90's sitcom and raised his pistol, flicking off the safety. "Also wouldn't mind a witness who can say reliably to a court, 'he had it coming'. Touch that trigger one more time, Spencer. We're all friends here, let's sit down and talk it out."


I couldn't fucking believe it. Believe this. I trusted them, I TRUSTED THEM, I TRUSTED HER.

"Is that all he is then ? A proxy? A body?" I could feel my eyes narrowing into a glare. "Why not have me strapped down on that table, Lori? What's the fucking difference?"


"Good question. All the same to me; a liability."


And then she looked up at me, tearing up, voice high and breathy and weak.


"...Spencer. Boss. I...I want to help cure you." Shakily motioning towards her blood-splattered notebook. "I'm taking notes. I'm going to learn how to make you better, understand this condition, this sickness, in a way that no one has before."


"So you're going to cut up a kid? That could be August! O-or S-s-sam... And you have the NERVE to call out Writer? To say you're my friend?!?"


A hiss from mister prim and fucking proper; ""And you have the nerve to defend him?!?"



"I'm doing this for you, Spencer. To make you, and everyone else, better..."




Liar. Murderer. Nothing mattered in that moment, though. All I could see was someone like me, slowly bleeding out in front of my eyes. This isn't my fault. It's all of yours. Is this all you see us as? Cattle? Words on a page, something for you to fight back against because you can't possibly stand up to what scares you the most? Is that what we all deserve, to be strung apart and butchered like animals? It's a choice, a fucking choice that you're all too afraid to fucking MAKE, and all you say is "don't give up" or "you sold out", but who's the idiot here? Who's the fucking faceless now, huh? Who's the fucking COWARD?!?


They were all just going to watch him die, you'd all just watch him die

and you'd do that to me, too, if you all ever got the chance






"... P-please..." He quietly begged. "P-please.... you're one of us, aren't y-you...?"



I am. I have been, and always will be. I know that. We all know that.





"I'm sorry, brother."




Sam's scream broke the tentative silence. "No, STOP IT!" Like it was that easy, but... I raised my gun again, aiming directly at Lori's forehead. I knew. This had to stop. This all had to stop. I could start again, find new people. But we were all never supposed to kill. Not like this. Never like this.

"B-Boss, I just wanted to help you, I wanted to make you better and help your body stop rotting and be a good doctor and..."


"Stop." Why was it so hard to speak? "Just stop. Lori wouldn't have said those things. She wouldn't have done this; treated someone like me just like a lab rat. She wouldn't have..."


"Well, SOMEONE needs to solve problems around here. Clearly you're unfit to, 'brother'." 

Somewhere far away, I hear laughter. So I grit my teeth and focus.


"Problem? There's no problem, I was just doing my work! He was laughing along with me, he wanted to help everyone get better too!"


"You've fucking lost it if you didn't hear that screaming."



"Oh god, don't shoot me! 

I...I..."

Quiet. Only slow drips coming from the operating table. Even Steele's "Easy there, tiger..." was flat and non-intrusive. "Her life ends, so does yours."




"Look at us. The Mongrel, the Lion, the Lamb, and the mad Doctor. Is this what it is, then? Do we all go and fall apart?" My hand was shaking, I couldn't breathe...



"We've already fallen apart. Now our goal is keeping these fuckers from murdering us in our sleep for as long as possible. I might make a cross in the garage, string him up, make an example of the useless fuck. Stick it in the front yard with the gnomes. Trespassers beware, y'know?"


I laughed, once, twice. It felt wrong, foreign."And that's what's become of you, then? Gone from shreiking at me for being a liar to being just as bad as I am? Worse, even? Listen to yourself! Y'sound like Writer; "Come now, Teller, darling, we'll make an example out of them~!" You make me sick. but don't you dare stop me from doing what you're too afraid to do. I'm sorry, Lori. But I can't overlook this..."


She inched towards the door, and I swallowed, waving my own pistol slightly. "No sudden moves. I don't want this to hurt."


"You make one mistake. I'm not including you in on this, 'Teller'. You're going next to him, and I'm stringing you upside down. Don't you FUCKING TOUCH Lori. You're not taking another family member away from me."


My finger tightened on the trigger. "She's gone, Leon. I can't fix this." 


"Neither can I. But leave it to the other side to fuck it up, not you."






And then Sam stepped in front of her, eyes wide and terrified, staring at me like I was some sort of monster, lips thin and white and trembling




My voice broke. "So she can suffer? So she can get torn apart like August did?"


"So she can let her own survival instincts decide instead of you, oh glorious leader."


Fuck


"...S-Steele. Thank you. Thank you so much. Sam, y-you too. You understand...you understand what I wanted. Boss, I'm so, so, so sorry!"


And she was gone.



We all stood there for what seemed like hours. Them and me. Me and them. I wanted to say something profound, something wise. I wanted to go after her. I wanted to fix all of this. But I can't. I couldn't even say a word. When I finally spoke, it was as if it was someone else.

"... it's on your hands now."


"Better than being blood on yours, old buddy."





Sam and I stood there in silence a while after that. Just staring at each other. She apologized. She said that she just couldn't see anyone else die. I said that it was okay. That Doc would be okay. And I lied. I lied about everything.


But I didn't know what else to do


I don't know what to do anymore.