hahahahaha
anotherone bites the god damn dust

no

there's no god here anymore.

There's no God here anymore, except for Him.



We're not doing deliveries anymore. We shouldn't have been doing them in the first place. The Couriers bring bad luck and pain and death wherever we go. I bring bad luck and pain and death wherever I go. I... I...



[It's alright, Spencer. Nobody is going to hurt you. Tell everyone what happened.]



... It was dark. No, it was bright. Day time. Safer. Safer to meet up with me. If anything, Mitch and Ryuu aren't stupid, but are shockingly well intentioned. She recognized me, Mitch. Nobody's ever mentioned how-



[Focus.]



"...caught in a moment where you're torn between some sort of... sadistic glee and horror? And, later, when you see yourself in a mirror... heh. Yes, I know what that's like, Spencer. The others don't tend to get it when you're torn between the two sides. Either they mock you for being senstive, or they yell at you for not being normal..." 


"... Or they think you're a traitor before you even pass go, and you're left wondering... "christ, for all my struggling, all my fucking suffering, did it do any good? Does it make any difference?" It's when you start to think like that when the trouble begins, eh? Because sometimes, one person believing in you, it's not enough. And it never will be enough. Not when it feels like the entire world has already written you off..." 



[Let me tell you all a story.]



"Do you know... what I find most hilarious? When things get rough and those once-friends slap you across the face... when people you thought were there to help you prove that they'd rather just walk away... who's there with open arms? With friendly words and smiles that never reach their eyes? Like ours never do? Proxies. Our siblings. So eager to hold out a helping hand when everyone else runs away.... and yet, none of them SEE it. None of them SEE they are practically BEGGING us to just BE as our natures WANT us to be. They don't realize that it's when you're covered in blood that... that you need help washing it off. To stop the shaking and get that stupid grin off your face... they don't realize it... and HOW THE HELL can't they realize that? These aren't stupid people. So HOW is that overlooked? HOW?"


"... Thank you. Fuck, I'm sorry. It's just, you know. So hard sometimes. With the Drums and the pounding and the laughter and they just look at you like you're... like you're not even human, like you never were human anyways and none of it is their fault. And then they have the nerve- the nerve to tell you to resist? To fight back? To act as if you're not trying hard enough? To tell you that you're weak?"




[It's about two people you knew quite well. Or you thought you knew. They're both dead now. One, a warrior. And one, a mongrel. A useless dog who never followed orders.]



Oh fuck, and just... everything was fine for a while, we talked and... she really, really just understood, understood like you all claim to understand and you don't and fuck there's all this blood and I can't get it off me


"What else do I have? What other line of resistance can I take? What else can I do? I'm not- I'm not sure what to do anymore. It hurts. It always hurts. Reminding me that I can only run for so long. And then? And then?!? When I finally reach the end of the road, when I can't fucking do this anymore, what's left for me? Death...? Is that what I have to look forward to?!?"


"...Yes. You decide what's worth clinging to - what's worth FIGHTING for - and you hang onto that. You don't let them TAKE that. We all do what we can with the time we're allowed, Spencer. Once you're in, there's no leaving alive. I'm sorry you never got a chance to know what 'out' was like..." 



[The mongrel admired the warrior, and wanted to know how she had severed her chain. And deep down, the warrior pitied him, for you see, once upon a time, she had been a mongrel as well.]



And for once everything was fine and it felt like everything would be fine forever but then
but then I saw them following us with their barely concealed non-nonchalance and fancy gear and their looks that screamed "Proxy. Inhuman. Monster." You can tell who they are and what they want to do
Moriarty's men
They want to kill you so much you can feel it



 "...Is it wrong to feel relief when you see the light at the end of the tunnel? Even if... it's hellfire? Never believed in that before all this shit. Kinda funny, eh?"


"... It helps if you have something to hold on to. Some sort of idea that... you'll get punished.


 "Forgiven."




[So it goes. But it's rather unfortunate, how the mongrel only brings his disease wherever he runs. This is all his fault, isn't it?]




We ran and we killed. And it was justified. It was fucking justified stop looking at me like that it was justified they were going to kill me! But we both got back to where we agreed to meet and then
the sky got darker
and all the noise of the city died down to only a hum
and the web of black started to wipe out the sky
And He


"What was the other option? Die? Would we have been 'saved' then? For chosing to die ourselves instead of killing others? The... puppeteer will just get new puppets if the previous ones are defective..."


""There will always be others. There will always be someone to take your place in this world. You will never be missed for long. It all goes on without you. And eventually... You'll be forgotten."




[But for once, for once, the mongrel decided to listen to our orders.]




And I
And I was on my knees
Waiting to die, watching Mitch walk towards Him and I




[Only one person had to die today.]




 "...The countdown finally reached midnight, then...?"




I turned my back on her like a coward and I ran
I ran and ran until I couldn't run anymore and there were so many voices telling me I had done the right
that I had done the right thing.




[Good dog. You'll get to rest soon.]




I'm sorry
I'm so, so sorry
Mitch is dead.

I left her there with Him
to die
and the only thing I could think of as I caught my breath
staring at my hands
was


"I'm next."

It’s almost comical, my dears...

I thought that after all that had happened to you and yours, Fitzgerald, (though you hardly resemble that man anymore, do you~?) it would be the revenge-crazed drug addict or the murderous schizophrenic to find me and try and take a chunk or two out of my flesh. Imagine my surprise when it’s your doctor, mad as a hatter and brandishing a femur of all things, who manages to jump me. Now, while my shoulder might be out of commission for the next little while and I’ve ruined my favourite suit, (something which I will be billing you for, Teller, once you’re back by my side) rest assured that at least half of the blood that covers the good doctor’s coat is her own, by my hand.

But don’t worry, I’ve kept her alive. She still has a role to play, after all~

Did you really think we would have just left you alone?  I’m honestly beginning to feel like a broken record here, but when my superiors begin with their incessant Writer, we haven’t received a report from you in well over two weeks despite knowing I had been busy finding my dearest squad leader (and you’ll all be pleased to know we’ve finally managed to recover the man, albeit not in the greatest condition) to attend to such trivial matters. Your lot was hardly any effort at all, so I’d hardly call it an addendum to my usual business to keep your darling selves occupied while I worked.

Oh but of course I had plans, didn’t I~? Lori had many a question about those bones I was eager to answer, sir Leon Steele was in much need of a reality check, (though he has proven to be the most intelligent of the couriers, he seems to lack the ability to follow through on his plans) and I had managed to locate Samantha’s darling sister for a positively touching reunion.

However, I would very quickly find out I would have little need for the girl.

And why is that, you ask?

Did it occur to any of you that all it took was one murder? All I had to do was take one life - one measly, insignificant little life, and suddenly you found your lives turned on their heads? You didn't need my involvement to tear yourselves apart~ But that's just how it goes, isn't it? I can hardly blame you. You destroy the caretaker, the custodian, the martyr, the mother, and everything falls

piece

by

little

piece~!

I didn't even have to destroy him as much as I did  - a simple bullet in the head would have done, and indeed was the original plan before that mess of complications – but, what can I say~? I had some pent-up emotions to work out, and he provided the perfect canvas.

Still, I do regret having to mar such a perfect face~

Speaking of the boy, he seems to have amassed a simply beautiful collection of documents. Files on his Home, each of the couriers (not just the seven you know, mind you – there are at least eighty files here, each one at minimum ten pages in length), but most interesting was a password-protected text file labelled “HONESTY EDITION.”

Needless to say, it was in reference to this post.

Now, I can summarize the contents of this particular document rather quickly. It’s nothing but notes on my dear Teller, afterall, and who better to talk about him but me, the man who’s raised him since he was but a boy, competing for his life in his little Colorado home~?

He was always a very promising protégé, and the contest only brought out the best in him. I remember having to call him in at least once a week to monitor his progress and chide him about something; some act of brutality or betrayal that suggested that darling Teller (now, forget the fact that the boy didn’t have a name until he began to work with me) wasn’t exactly ordinary. It was quite charming, really, to see so much bloodlust and determination in somebody so young. I suppose some are just born different, yes~? And if his latest descent into insanity hasn’t served as a reminder to all of you that Teller is, at his most basic level, a murderous sociopath with a desire to kill and manipulate and control. Much like the first Crafter I met, incidentally, and the one I would end up gearing my entire life around. Why should I have paid attention to him when it was my duty to oversee the raising of our newest additions to the organization?

Oh, and you thought this was an isolated event?

Non, non, we’ve been doing this for generations. Even when I came into my position of power some thirty years ago we were doing it. The skills were passed down from the cream of the crop – a Crafter much like Teller, with dark hair and amber eyes, who seemed to have the whole world spinning in the palm of his hand. I supposed it was out of a sort of misplaced desire to live up to his standards that I took Teller in as my own when he had finally managed to place at the top of his class, and we did work on quite a few projects in our time before he went rogue.

Really, I admired the persona he had managed to put on when this blog first came to light. All of you, really; so fresh-faced and innocent, giving so many intimate details away with every keystroke and comment – it was like you hadn’t been doing this for years. But as things started to fall apart again and again (and it was only until it happened a third time did I realize that the death of St. Claire would lead to your untimely demise) you revealed more and more of your true colours; Spencer, nothing but a mask; Lori, a mad doctor being held together by parlor tricks and blue tarps; Steele, staying with your ‘family’ out of a backwards sort of pride; Todd, already too far gone to be saved, used as little more than an attack dog; Amanda, too bitter and introverted to be of any use once things began to fall apart; Sam, little more than cannon fodder; and August, the broken mother-figure who somehow managed to hold you all together.

He thanked me, you know~

But I suppose congratulations are in order. You’ve managed to outlive my original estimates by two whole weeks~! I admit, six months was quite optimistic of me, but it wasn’t as if you could have lasted much longer anyway. In hindsight, my only regret is spending weeks toiling over Trackers’ reports and delivery schedules and power bills only to realize that the simplest solution has, once again, proven to be the best~

The couriers are finished, Teller. Your charade is over. This is bordering on ridiculous, and you’re losing your mind.

You know where to find me when you’ve decided to come home.

walpurgisnacht

I know the look. The desperation in bloodshot eyes, the look of the coward. Of the liar. It burns, stings. It sickens me, because it's like looking into a mirror of my own ineptitude. It makes me want to die and I can't have that, oh no. He's still laughing. Laughing at everything I do, everything I try, it's just not good enough. There's the pounding of my heart in my chest, the pounding of the drums in my ears, counting every step I take

One, two, three, four, five, six...

Something has changed, something in the air, and I can feel myself perking, aware, awake. I know they're bad, that they're evil; I can taste it, taste how afraid they are, the uncertainty in their minds, the sweat that rolls down their foreheads.

TRUE! nervous, very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why WILL you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses, not destroyed, not dulled them...

I haven't changed, oh no, aside from for the better; the sickness has made everything sharper and crisper than it's ever been. I'm whole for the first time in a long, long time; here truly and fully; not an impression, not a ghost. Everywhere and nowhere all at once. I'm there as they whip their heads around to hear a twig that's snapped, a rustle in the forest. I'm there, but

They never see me

that's part of the rules, after all.


And so the Game begins.

They barely notice at first until they realize it's their blood dripping on the hard and cracked ground. And then they start to run again and the panic sets in and it dawns on them that they're not immune, that they're going to die too. Breathe in, breathe out. Slow steps turn to a hurried frenzy as they realize they're being followed. Quickened breath, faster, faster! The pounding grows in my head and the need grows in my chest, a knowledge that the monster will roar in triumph once I play the piano keys at my fingertips. But I wait. I wait because it will be so much sweeter that way.

I'm going to destroy you and everything you are, I'm going to chase and when you stop, I'll make you run some more. You won't stop you won't ever stop. I'll wake you up just as you fall asleep. You'll never know what's real and what's not, aside from the hunter...

Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen...

Because it's then that you can start building worlds. Cogwheels and gears, lattice and tree branches. Bodies twisting into manikins of bone and nails. Dreams and nightmares mixing together like oil and water. Circus rings and skyscrapers going in all the wrong directions. Stumble and trip and forget which way is up. Sidewalks that end in abysses that have eyes, that gaze into your own and start to giggle.

It just takes one little push then.

You should hear how they all scream, Writer. Forced to stare into something that just mocks them. Forced to hear all the little voices inside their head while they face the darkness they were always so terrified to face. Some of them break right there. But some, oh, some, they hit the ground running. Fire and pits and brimstone. Panting, desperate assertions that this can't be happening. Chessboards and rivers of ink and ichor. Somewhere, the faint sounds of static and strings. Discord and order in a patchwork sky.

They bite their lips to keep from making noise until they bleed.

Sharp edges and spiders webs. It goes on forever, stretching out on lighten pathways to eternity. Stop to rest, and I just let them know I'm behind them. They take one second to catch their breath, and I'm there in their shadow. They open their mouths to scream, and I cut at their tongues. Bits and pieces of them start to vanish.

First, a finger. Then, a chunk of flesh; a flash of pain and silver, and then the slow drip. I wish you could see it~! The slow realization flashing across scarred features; then the nightmare truly begins.

Watching them lose hope is the best part. 

Some of them renounce god. Some of them renounce Him. Thunder and snowdrifts. It doesn't matter. Once they're in my world, I'm their new ruler. The new master of their destiny. Everything, slowly being wrenched away from their grasping fingertips.

twenty three, twenty four

I hear it now. See it; words and phrases, black on the corners of my vision; swarms of letters, because the music comes from everything. Footprints and bloody viscera. The beat. The rhythm. Louder, LOUDER. Lace and velvet, ashes as rain. Nothing is better than making a move to the cacophonous melody of last breaths and strained heartbeats. Glasswork and drops of mercury.  In my world, there is only my order. My chaos. I take everything from them, like how you took everything from me. And that gives me pleasure. I laugh. I laugh at them as they beg for it all to stop. 


The Game continues on.

I'm hunting the villains. I'm hunting the evil. And I'm taking everything from them before I kill them. I'm playing and toying and destroying. I'm destroying souls. I'm destroying something beautiful

I own this

and can crush heads with my fingertips and rip joints out of their sockets and dig my wrists into bone and muscle and peel skin back and make everything into a work of art. Paint pictures with a well placed word. See the world bustle at my feet.

And I can do it
over
and over
and over
and over
again.

Until there's no one left to ruin. No Game left to play.

But for now, there's plenty of players.

The wicked get a head start.

Run. 

~Steele~ Amanda,

I'm heading back to the House now, love; so I can see you and pay my respects, but I just...I can't leave it 'till then. I'll be spending most of my time looking for...looking for Lori's body...so we can give her just as respectable a treatment.


But I haven't treated you respectably at all, have I?


I've failed you; but then again, I'd failed you long ago. Before this blog started, we were so close, we'd talk, we'd fight, we'd laugh...but once it started, I don't know what happened. We drifted apart, and you drifted away. You started showing up less and less to dinners, and I started being at the House less and less...



I thought you could protect yourself. You were always the friend I'd never need to worry about, the silent, dependable one who had just as much of a chip on their shoulder as I did, who knew what was right, what was wrong, and didn't give a fuck what anyone else thought because you knew your judgement was the only thing you could go by.

I miss you. I have missed you. I did miss you. I missed your injury, I missed your long recovery, I missed you just getting around on crutches...



I missed you doing the right thing, for Sam, for Lori. Our lives had split, and have run in parallel, never crossing, never wavering, just stoically moving on with what we have to. I guess what we had to do just never...involved each other anymore. We just had other priorities. I always thought that we'd get out of the stormy seas and it'd be business as usual again, we could sit out on the balcony and grab a smoke, mercilessly insult each other, catch up, tell stories about what we'd been doing for the last few months, the sort of stuff that you just can't capture in written format. You were never great at writing anyway. You were always so focused on reality, to an extent that I could never match, even when I try to be grounded, I try to be moral, I try to be someone that can take care of their own. Your line just continued on its path, getting shit done, getting healthy again...

then your line ended.

I'll take care of Poe. I need an old crow in my life.

i just wish it was still you.

-Sam- Blood

There's blood everywhere, and none of it is mine. I got it all over everything. How the fuck do you get blood out of carpets, anyway?

How long ago was it? an hour, maybe? two, three? I was just wandering around the house, and I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. It was Doc, still covered with blood and stuff, grinning like a maniac. I figured I was hallucinating, so I just decided to follow her and see what happened. No harm in that. She noticed me, but she just giggled and told me to be quiet because she was about to make history, whatever the fuck that meant.

I kept following, but things started feeling...wrong. The kind of wrong where your ears are ringing and you want to throw up. Then we got to the library and went inside and HE was there. Doc was laughing and I thought I was going to be sick. I reminded myself that it wasn't really happening.

Things get a bit fuzzy from there. I was staring into his face, everything else was background noise. Doc walked right up to him and started yelling.

"What are you gonna do, big guy? Here I am!" Laughing, coughing. A few shadows drifted up from his back, reaching toward Doc. She laughed more, high-pitched and crazy. "Grab me. I fucking dare you." I couldn't see what she was doing, I could only see the blank white face in front of me.

And then somebody shoved me out of the way, shouting "Oh, FUCK THIS." Amanda limped past me and I fell over, losing sight of him. She went straight to Doc, shaking her, trying to snap her out of it while I backed toward the door. I wasn't looking at him. I couldn't see his face, but I saw the tentacles reach out and grab Amanda and there was nothing I could do. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought Maybe this is really happening. I still couldn't do anything, what could I do? The tentacles wrapped around her and began to twist and she was screaming. I couldn't scream. I couldn't stop watching.

Doc giggled. She reached into her coat and pulled out a syringe, still talking to him.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you. I've got your death in my hands, I've got it right fucking here."

I didn't really catch what happened next, but there was a crack and Doc hit the floor, syringe flying. The tentacles started to wrap around her too, and I think I was screaming now. They were dying. They were both dying. With a final scream and a sudden rush of blood, he tore Amanda completely in half.

They both disappeared then, into the mass of shadows. Amanda's body hit the floor with a sick kind of thump and then HE was gone and Doc was gone and I was alone with two halves of Amanda.

It felt like a dream, like I was watching myself walk over to the bloody mess on the floor and gently touch it. Checking for a pulse on a body that was torn in half.

I couldn't leave her there. Had to do something with the body. I dragged her down the stairs on total autopilot. It won't stop replaying in my head, but I'm completely numb.

I dug her the best grave I could, next to August. Three people dead, only two bodies to bury. I marked it with a pile of rocks and went back inside, feeling like I was floating. I don't know what to do now. I can't do anything but write this. They're gone, all of them are gone. I'm alone with Matilda and not-Todd and the stupid fucking crow. They're dead and there was nothing I could do. I'm sorry. Please come back. I'm sorry

~Steele~ “Brother.”

So Spence, you’ve made your decision, huh? You chose a goddamn proxy, a goddamn, fucking, no name proxy who had been sent to MURDER US, over the woman you started all of this with. She who stood by you, she who you protected, she who protected YOU.

She who wanted to save you. And how do you thank her? Ruining her work, and ruining her.

“Brother.” Pff.

What are we to you now, brother? What are we, your Household, to you anymore? What was Doc? What was August? What is Todd, what is Amanda? What is Sam?

What am I? Not a brother, not anymore. I truly wish it could be how it was, us as brothers in arms, partners in crime, cogs in our organization: but I don’t think we’re in sync anymore. Hell, I don’t think we’re even in the same machine.

I’ve got work to do, so I won’t be Home much, except to check up on the team. Don’t bother paying me for it; I’m sure you’ll thank me later for my efforts.

If you’re still around.

In a thanking state.

And us in a thanking relationship.

Like we used to be.

I’ll keep going, I’ll always keep going, to protect Sam and Amanda, to save Doc and Todd, to avenge August…and you.

Until then, stay the fuck out of my way.

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.