-Spencer- Team, I love weddings

Because everyone likes suddenly getting thrust into doing a job when you're supposed to be having fun-

Wait, am I getting this wrong?

August and I sobered up and were up and ready for the ceremony. It was gorgeous; even I could see that and I'm an uncultured schmuck.

But I'm also not an idiot. When the busboy with the ridiculously fake German accent turned up, I can't say I was very surprised to see it wasn't simply an exchange student trying to earn some cash.

(Well, you idiot, what did you expect? You barely ever stop moving and you decide to go to a wedding? Stupid!)

So August and I slip in our earpieces and get on it. Doors were locked, I pinned the suspicious character, and I figured everything would go alright from there.

I. Was. Wrong.

I don't need to summarize what's already there. Read what they said. Go on, I'll wait. Point being, I stabbed a Proxy's eyes out with a FORK and laughed while I was doing so.

... According to August, at least. I'm not sure if he's trying to get back at me for last night or not, but I can't remember doing that.

Well fuck.

Naturally, though, we didn't have time to worry about looking fancy once we got rid of 'em. There was work to be done.

Because, children, what you don't realize is that it's REALLY FUCKING HARD to keep all your conquests under wraps and away from media attention. Keeping all you Runners out of jail isn't easy, but it's something I do.

So I have about half an hour to draw attention away from the hotel massacre.

This is pretty bad. It's even worse when the fucker won't connect me to the chief. It takes three minutes to get to the right person, but boy, is it worth is.

You should've heard him gasp when he heard my voice. It's nice to have power around here. And then August suggested that a small scale explosion would probably work as a distraction.

Dear god, remind me to give that kid a hefty bonus.

Sure, he's tiny and frail, but watching a guy in a dress assemble a miniature pipebomb is something you REALLY need to see to believe.

There was SLIGHT property damage; a vacant tiny house had it's foundation cracked but the one next to it had nothing but a good jolt. Otherwise, the explosion was magnified using tricks to make it sound worse than it actually was. Dry ice makes great fake smoke, and enough well placed megaphones can make a mouse deafening.

Of course, it was a hit. The media jumped on it faster than a starving panther. Mission accomplished.

I dropped off a package, too. So it worked out in the end.

August... Team, I only ask this; MAKE SURE HE RESTS. I need to go back into The Wing to sort shit out. But he's got a cracked rib that he's been walking on.

(using The Path really didn't help things, but hey)

But otherwise?

It was fun.

(Outside from the team, I really didn't have friends. Is it right to say that I feel that I do now?)

-August- Happy Birthday To Me.

Eighteen.

Hey Todd, you're finally allowed to not feel guilty about staring at me like that in all fifty states.

Woo.

Spence has something in NYC he needs me to pick up. Normally I'd argue why he couldn't get it himself, but we've already had our weekly disagreement (twelve years, huh?) and I'm kind of glad to be getting out of the house. The events of the eighth don't exactly give me any grounds to argue on, (as the boss pointed out himself) so I guess it's living in a van for a few days for me.

New York's a ways away and I'll be handling a couple small things of my own; cameras in certain areas and those radio stations are still in need of repair, especially considering one went down with a fire in Manhattan.

(Maybe our little pyromaniacal friend from before? No, no, no, he should be... )

Taking the van. We've got bikes thanks to Spencer's... connections so if you really need to get out there are always those. We're all hermits anyways so I really don't see how it matters.

Love love, be home soon, don't do anything stupid,

August

-August- Timey-Wimey Nonsense

Because a couple hours in surrealist art is not how I wanted to spend the last three days.

For those of you not following, let me give you a brief explanation: call them what you will, Mazes, Labyrinths, Loops, Hell, Why-Is-There-A-House-Floating-In-Mid-Air-Moutains-Aren't-Supposed-To-Form-Sideways-Like-That-oh-god-when-did-the-sidewalk-end-and-why-is-there-water-flowing-up-a-tree; they're pocket dimensions and they're a massive pain.

Not only do we have to worry about the neigh-infinite onslaught of proxies, as the description above points out they're also incredibly confusing. This is basically the place that physics forgot, and buildings bend in on themselves like something out of Inception, layers upon layers upon layers of reality included.

(But we'll get to that later, won't we?)

Another parallel I will so shamelessly make is the timey-wimey nonsense, from which I finally find a name for this post. Maybe it's an effect only we've noticed, (judging by Operation Wintergreen, Ava's experience in them and countless others I won't list, it's quite the contrary) but time seems to move differently, and it's completely random so every time we finally get out we have to find somewhere with a regular clock. What was a couple of hours in the loop was three whole days in the real world, so no doubt the government bigwigs are wondering where we are.

If there's any good news, it's that we've got the package and we're out of Detroit. That means 1) we're in vehicles, therefore moving faster, and 2) run-ins with our little masked compadres are sparse due to the fact that you can't be turned Blank by and eldritch abomination and pilot a car at the same time.

Sam's driving again, mostly because we haven't hit the country roads quite yet. This is probably the most boring part of the delivery, and we're all pretty disoriented after coming out of the Loop.

It's a weird feeling to lose time in a Loop. You try to fill in the three day gap and you get is two full hours between when you entered and when you got back to the van and starting listening to The Wall.

What can I say? I'm steadily developing a taste for classic rock.