Wednesday, August 31, 2011

The Most Interesting Man in the World, Pt. 1

Hello again, my dears. I’m sorry I haven’t had an opportunity to update all of you on my status recently, but I’ve been rather frightfully busy. After recovering from my indisposition, Mr. Roye and I travelled south once more, mostly at night so as to avoid any police officers or federal agents who might still be watching us. Our progression was impeded several times by Mr. Roye’s increasingly annoying insistence on bathroom breaks. What was I to do, my dears? I appreciated the little man’s assistance in facilitating my escape, but he was rapidly becoming a colossal nuisance. Fortunately, we happened to be driving near a rail line that appeared to be in regular and heavy use, as I’d seen at least four trains pass by in the last ten minutes.

I pulled the Mustang off the road, parking rather near the train tracks, but taking precautions to keep the car itself concealed within a stand of trees. Mr. Roye followed me out of the vehicle, staying on my heels as I walked over to the tracks. He looked so pathetic, following me around like a small dog. I had neither the time nor the inclination to perform a physical examination of his body, so this would have to do.

“What are we doing here, Mistress?” he asked, his voice high and irritating. I shook my head, wincing slightly at the buzzing his voice had left inside my skull.

“Getting rid of a problem, dear.”

Mr. Roye appeared rather confused at this (evidence of a low level of mental acuity, most likely). I saw no point in drawing things out any further. Without further hesitation I picked up two small rocks, throwing each one hard enough to shatter one of his femurs. As he collapsed I stomped on each of his humeri, shattering his upper arms and ensuring that he wouldn’t be able to pull himself off the tracks. The vibrations of the rails under my feet told me that another train was already on its way, coming rather fast by the feel of it. Mr. Roye looked up at me, his expression agonized and bewildered.

“Mistress…I don’t understand…”

I turned and walked back to the car, ignoring Mr. Roye’s weak cries for forgiveness and aid. As I slipped into the driver’s seat, his dismayed wails were silenced with a wet crunching noise. The train’s conductor had never seen his body, and had run over the late Mr. Roye without so much as slowing down. I waited until the train’s engine was out of sight, then restarted the Mustang and headed for the nearest highway. My thoughts were racing, an unusual situation for me. I’d just killed a man, not for medical examination, but simply because he was in my way. He had been a rather devoted disciple of mine, actually. An admirer. Not a threat. Removing the FBI agents who had been holding me was one thing. This was…wrong. I had no idea why I’d done it. Something deep inside me was telling me that with this killing, I had crossed an invisible line. Why was I feeling this way? I had killed plenty of people before. Everybody had to die sometime, after all, so why did it matter if I brought that time around somewhat sooner?

This time was different because it was unnecessary. I could’ve left him in a town. He wouldn’t have told anyone about me; he was too devoted for that. Something…something had pushed me to end him. Something not a true part of me. I’m not a murderer. I’m not psychotic. I don’t go around killing people willy-nilly like that. Maybe…maybe I’m doing something wrong. Maybe this isn’t what I’m meant to do. I don’t know.

In any case, as the sun was rising I found that I’d been driving on autopilot all night. I was somewhere in western Tennessee, outside a Christian youth camp. It was quite a sizable compound, and very well-kept. It was also full of trees, a fact I approved of as the summer sun was giving me quite a headache even through my glasses. I parked the Mustang near the gates, stepping out and striding through the camp’s front gates. No one seemed to think I was out of place, despite all of them (staff and clients) wearing blue jeans and white shirts, while I was in my preferred immaculate three-piece suit and tie. I followed the nagging attraction in my mind, which led me through the camp to a storage area in the very rear. Amidst the farm implements and sports equipment were a row of small sheds, each with a tin roof and whitewashed sides. I could hear crying from a few of them, a fact which momentarily bothered me until I realized that the pulling feeling was leading me toward the one on the end. I slid open the viewing port in this shed’s door, not at all surprised to find a strapping young man inside. He had short blonde hair, blue eyes, very chiseled features, and was VERY well-built. He looked up as I looked in. I smiled slightly, amused.

“Now, what could you have done to land yourself in a place like this, dear?”

The boy stared at me, something in his eyes seeming dead already. His reply was even and toneless. “I raped my bunkmate. He was annoying me and needed to learn how the hierarchy works.”

I liked this boy already. I smiled, glancing at the flimsy lock holding the shed door shut. “Well, dear, let’s get you out of there.”

---

I’m afraid I need to take care of a thing or two, dears. I will post the second half of my account tomorrow. Ta ta for now.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Une Petit Mettre au Courant

My apologies for my lack of posting, dears. I’ve had a terribly busy week. You see, shortly after my last post I was arrested by an FBI task force. They put me in manacles. Such an indignity, and I was forced to endure it the entire way to Frankfort, Kentucky, where I was processed into a federal holding facility. Several days of nearly constant interrogation followed, most focusing on my anatomical investigations over the last three years. They subjected me to unbearably bright lights, constant noise and yelling, and all manner of extremely painful sensory inputs. It was more than I could bear, dears. I honestly thought I was going to die, but by the third day I was too weak to even plot revenge. From the smirks some of the agents were wearing, I believe they knew precisely what their abuse was doing to me. I eventually realized that their interest in me was more than simply penal. Sometime around the fourth day, they began asking me questions about Father. Thankfully, even through a fog of agony and fatigue I still had the personal strength to hold my tongue.

On the sixth day, I was informed (to my surprise) that my lawyer had come to see me. I’ve never hired a lawyer, dears, so this was most unexpected. It turned out to be a Mr. Taben Roye, an admirer of mine, wearing a suit and doing a rather decent lawyer impression. He had managed to sneak in a knife. At this point I was fatigued, in agony such as I’d never experienced before, and ANGRY at the way they’d treated me. It was time to take manners into my own hands. For the first time since He made me His, I used the gifts He had given me to their full extent. I kicked the interview room’s door off its hinges and proceeded to slaughter everything in my path on my way out of the building. There was no time for artistry, so instead I went for brutality. Men were stabbed, necks snapped, limbs forcibly torn from their bodies…it was beautiful in its own way, I suppose. I was in no mood to appreciate it. Mr. Roye followed me out of the building. I must say, I approve of the levity he showed in bludgeoning injured agents to death with the severed limbs of other agents.

We eventually made it to the evidence storage area. I killed the guards there, then retrieved my kit and foil as well as a few other useful items. Foil in hand, I proceeded to exit the premises. One of the agents in this facility apparently had an extra source of income, as his mode of transportation was a lovely 2010 Ford Mustang, black. We stole it. I must say, as much as I love my motorcycle, this car is a wonderful machine. We were able to completely lose our pursuers after almost two hours of pursuit, and after a quick stop to swap license plates with another car and deactivate the Mustang’s tracker, we continued into the Kentucky hills. At the moment I’m sitting in a dark room at a motel whose location I shall not disclose. We will most likely remain here for another day or two as I finish recovering from the abuse heaped on my by your dear public servants. After that…I feel a need to press south. Mr. Roye shall accompany me until I tire of him. He’s actually quite useful as a servant, though he talks entirely too much and is continually attempting to look down my shirt, a fact I do NOT appreciate. Still…he’s more useful than annoying, and as long as that remains the case I shall continue to use him.

Ta ta for now, dears. It’s good to be back.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Cecidit Enim Heros

Good morning, my dears. I'm afraid I don't have much to say, for today is a sad day for our cause. One of the great ones among us has fallen. Redlight, who was one of Father's most valuable tools, is dead. He was felled by his own creation. Cynthia, dear, if I ever come across you I shall visit unendurable agony upon you for weeks before giving you up to Father for your final punishment. You have been a bad little girl, dear, and bad girls are always punished accordingly.

Redlight, I wish you peace, wherever your soul may have gone. I assure you that I shall do my best to carry on your legacy and your work.

Ambuletis sicut pars semper in pace Patre nostro.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Faith Rewarded

Good afternoon, my dears. I'm afraid my discourse for today must of necessity be brief, as I'm currently attempting to evade an FBI task force that has been assigned to what I hear they are now calling the "Deadly Cure" killer. Why they've assigned my case that particular name is beyond me. But I digress. After saving that dear waif Sabrina, I was unfortunately prompted by Father to leave the area. I realized after a certain degree of random travelling on my motorcycle that as I progressed west, I felt more and more certain of the direction I was to travel. To make a long story short, I eventually found my destination. Father had sent me to a hospital in Ohio. Again following His quiet guidance, I asked at the front desk for Brennon Laideckt's room. After a few moments of hesitation, the nurse was kind enough to give me his room number. I made my way through the hospital, borrowing a lab coat from an empty maintenance closet on the third floor. Thus equipped, I strode into the room, not surprised to find Mr. Aiden Clarke asleep in a chair near the bed. I had come equipped for this possibility, of course. After shutting and locking the door I retrieved a roll of duct tape from the backpack I'd brought with me. I secured his arms, legs, and chest, then taped his mouth shut and smacked him sharply across the face. The look of panic in his eyes as he shot awake was...delicious.

I calmly explained to him that I was here to exterminate his dear companion Brennon, Father's voice in my mind giving me the exact words to say. I then taped each of his eyes shut, chuckling slightly as he attempted to struggle against the tape. I also taped his sleeping lover's mouth closed. After all, it wouldn't do to have my work cut short due to interruption from other medical professionals. I set to work with my personal toolkit, removing the healing skin grafts from Brennon's body one section at a time. He awoke immediately, his screams markedly muffled by my makeshift gag. Within five minutes his torso was bare. Father, unfortunately, had prohibited my normally lengthy examinations in favor of a much-shortened kill. His will be done. I began the next step of my quicker process, sprinkling mixture of bleach and sulfuric acide across dear Brennon's exposed torso. His back arched, and for a moment I thought he might be having a grand mal seizure. One quick stab with a scalpel, however, eliminated the problem. Knowing how to cause immediate paraplegia through severance of one's spinal cord can be a useful skill. After the acid mixture had done its work I sliced into the man's torso, removing his abdominal and oblique muscle groups, leaving the pectoral muscles intact. Simply for laughs, I set the severed muscles in Aiden's lap, then went back to work. I proceeded to sever each of his internal organs from its connections, rearranging them in alphabetical order and removing the liver. That organ was placed in a small plastic container for my own use, a small excess for which Father had granted his permission.

By this point, dear Brennon's eyes were empty. It was clear to me that he was dead, as he had stopped screaming and struggling at least ten minutes ago. As a final indignity I removed his penis and testes, pushing both into his throat after removing the tape gag. I quickly repacked my tools, delivering one final quip to Aiden, who by this point seemed to have recognized the futility of his situation.

"This is your punishment for defying Father, dear. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did."

I discarded the now-bloodied laboratory coat in the room's trash bin and left, leaving Aiden taped to his chair. The hospital staff, bless their incompetent hearts, had no idea anything was amiss. My act was quickly discovered, though, as I saw several local and federal law enforcement vehicles speeding toward the hospital as I left its parking garage. I am now safely out of the state, dears, and well on my way to my next assignment, which should prove QUITE interesting. However, I believe the vehicle behind me may be a US government surveillance vehicle, and I am going to attempt to evade its tracking.

Ta ta for now, my dears.

PS: My dear Aiden, if you happen to read this, I have something to tell you. Your lover's liver was QUITE tasty in a red wine sauce. I wonder if yours is as delicious? Perhaps I'll be allowed to find out at some future juncture.

Monday, August 8, 2011

A Mission


Welcome back, my friends, to the show that never ends. I am one of Father's friends, come inside, come inside...

Apologies.

I happen to be in a rather good mood right now, my dears. My walk the other day was MOST productive. I met a very lovely girl named Sabrina, you see. Something (possibly Father, possibly something or someone else) happened to lead me to her house, my feeling of anticipation growing with every step. I could hear Father in my head, whispering to me, telling me what I was to do. This girl was to be His, you see, but others were trying to steal her from him, to take what wasn't rightfully theirs. Needless to say, Father wasn't happy with this prospect, and I was told to go protect this girl. I find the irony amusing. I was being told to PROTECT a Runner. Still...Father's will be done. I would not complain at ANY task He gave me.

I soon arrived at dear Sabrina's house. As soon as she opened the door, I had to stifle a chuckle. She's a tiny little thing, with mousy brown hair and large, doe-like eyes. She actually quite strongly resembled a girl I'd sacrificed to Father a year ago. Such a beautiful scene....all the bodies, all the blood...I laughed when the police found the apartment I'd used for the sacrifice, by the way. That gung-ho detective nearly vomiting at the sight...it was delicious on several levels. But I digress. I introduced myself to the girl, informing her that I was here to help. It had been a long walk, so I also asked if I could borrow her kitchen to make myself a snack. She was gracious enough to acquiesce to my request, though she certainly didn't look happy about allowing one like myself into her space. Perhaps it's the goggles. I'll ask her if I ever see her again. Anyhow, we puttered about for an hour or three, and I was beginning to think I'd been wasting my time when I happened to look out the rear window.

If I may digress for a moment, I'd like to lament the poor state of what is traditionally termed "villainy". Far too many people now seem to think that watching "horror" films makes them a valid Satanist, or reading the Runner blogs gives them enough information to be a true devotee of Father. I have to wonder how many "proxies" are really just misguided humans who think that by killing others, they're somehow endearing themselves to Him. We are His prey, dears. We can't endear ourselves to him. We can only feed Him and hope He bestows His favor upon us on occasion. These MORONS profess to follow Father, even though they have most likely never seen Him or heard His beautiful voice. I must admit I was rather annoyed at their approach, so I resolved to confront them in the open.

Their leader was a woman, maybe 21 or 22 years old. I strode onto the front porch, waiting for her. Our conversation went as follows:

Me: (silently waits for the leader to approach. She did so, leaving her followers at the bottom of the porch stairs)
Leader: (somewhat hostile) Excuse me, but this house is only supposed to have one occupant. Who are you?
Me: (calm) My name is Andromeda. I serve Father.
Leader: (annoyed. What an immature woman) Ah, I see. Then you must be here to assist us in capturing that girl?
Me: (still calm, though beginning to get annoyed) She will pay if and when Father decides. He has told me to STOP you. This girl is His to kill, and if you continue to come after her, I am to kill you in retaliation.
Leader: I see then. Clearly you must be confused. We have read over your “Father's” scriptures well, and we know our mission. If you refuse to stand aside, then we will simply remove you in His name.

At this point, the woman attempted to stab me with a blade concealed in the sleeve of her jacket. I disarmed her, disemboweled her with her own weapon, and proceeded to do the same to each of her eight companions. I'm sorry for not giving details, dears, but it really wasn't terribly interesting or illuminating. When I was done I re-entered the house, where Miss Sabrina was still cowering in her chair in the corner. I'd managed to keep my clothes free of bodily fluids, but the blood on my hands and the knife I was still holding appeared to terrify her. Not that I minded, of course. Father spoke in my mind again, giving me a message to give to this girl.

Me: Miss Sabrina, I've been instructed to tell you something.
Her: (scared) What?
Me: You are to run. Far away from here. You are to run as far and as fast as you can. If you have not left this city within 12 hours, I will hunt you down, and I will sacrifice to him...oh, and on a personal note, dear, I'd relish the chance to study your exquisite bone structure in detail, so I suggest you do as Father says.

To her credit, the girl is a very prompt actor. She bolted upstairs immediately, and I could hear her throwing things into what I assume was a suitcase. I smiled and left, feeling Father's satisfaction with my actions.

I'm afraid it may be a while before my next update, dears. I can already feel Him in my mind, urging me to travel west. I can only assume that there's another mission awaiting me somewhere in that direction, and I'm not inclined to stop before I've completed it.

Ta ta for now, my dears.

Saturday, August 6, 2011

A Hiatus

I must apologise for the delay in my updates to this blog, my dears. I've been taking in the wonderful sights and sounds of this nation's capital, as well as working on the project I mentioned when last we spoke. I also indulged in a small hobby of mine. As I've mentioned before, I was once a surgeon. One of the reasons I chose that profession was my fascination with the human body's remarkable resiliency. Every so often, I like to carry out small experiments on the limits of said resiliency.

The subject of my current experiment was a young Negro woman I found busking in a tube station near the Smithsonian Museum. After treating her to a lovely dinner ( I had salad, she had lasagne), I persuaded her to come back to my hotel for more discussion on certain topics of mutual interest. I then administered an oral sedative in her martini and paralysed her larynx through the severance of certain muscles necessary for it's operation.

It was almost a pity to do so, I must admit. The girl had proven to be quite a conversationalist and a not inconsiderable wit as well, traits I always admire. Ah, the sacrifices we make for Science...but I digress. I turned on the radio, tuning it to a modern rock and roll station I've become rather fond of, and set to work. I've taken to carrying a small surgical kit with me, as such things are always useful in my work. First, I determined to examine her musculature. I began with the torso, gently slicing into and removing the skin in four-square-inch segments, each of which I set aside for later use. After approximately 45 minutes, I had removed all the skin from her body, save only her eyelids, lips, and the skin of her labia majora. The girl was awake at this point, of course. Such excruciating agony would completely overwhelm the sopoforic powers of the sedative I'd used. However the same agony prevented any possible escape attempt she may have been contemplating, so no restraints were necessary. This particular specimen had wonderfully structured thighs, so I decided to start the next phase of my examination there. I began with the quadriceps, severing them at the ligaments and carefully removing the muscle. I continued this dismantling one muscle group at a time until her legs were naught but bone from ankles to hips, taking proper steps at each juncture to prevent undue blood loss. To her credit, the girl didn't so much as TRY to scream. I placed each of her muscles neatly alongside her removed skin. I briefly considered attempting to reassemble her legs when I was through with her, but considering what else I had planned I decided it wouldn't be worth the extra effort and trouble.

My next experiment was based on earlier observations. I used a scalpel to split her abdominal muscles, peeling them away from her thoracic cavity and exposing her internal organs. The smell that rose up from them, the smell of bile and blood and flesh...it was delicious. Almost orgasmic, really. I can never get enough of that smell, and the ecstasy I know will soon follow in its wake. I still had some of the lye from that lovely couple in Pennsylvania, and a moment's careful mixing created in my syringe a milky-white paste, which I injected directly into this young woman's large intestine. I made sure to keep careful notes on the speed and progress of the acidic reaction as it consumed her intestines and a good amount of her reproductive system before fading out (not to mention various musculature structures and quite a bit of her cervical vertebrae, including the spinal cord they were meant to protect). To my amazement, the girl was still alive after this. I was able to tell not only by her respiration, but by the tears of blood running from her eyes. It was mesmerizing, and for almost ten minutes I could do naught but stare at her face, silently marvelling at the beauty of the human form. If ever there was an argument for the existence of a Deity aside from Father, the existence of this practically Angelic perfection was it. I leaned down and kissed the girl deeply, whispering my reassurances that she was becoming more beautiful with every passing moment, and that soon she would know the ultimate release. She couldn't reply to my promises, of course, but the expression in her eyes was all the reward I needed. That utter agony that always accompanies transformation...I confess that I'm sometimes envious of my subjects, for they undergo a metamorphosis that I shall never be able to experience myself.

I sat back up, licking the girl's blood from my lips with no small amount of enjoyment. It was time for the next stage of my investigations. Using a small scalpel, I began removing one muscle group at a time from the girl's face, neck, and torso. I am rather disappointed that I was unable to expose bone in several areas, as doing so would have required the severance of major arteries and veins. I did what I could, however, and eventually I was satisfied with my work. The girl was still breathing, her eyes open, though I have no doubt that at this point her higher brain functions had ceased. There was nothing more I could learn from this subject, so I moved on to the final stage. Carefully removing the muscles around her rib cage, I pulled the bones apart, exposing her vital organs. I delicately took her heart into my hands, admiring its simplicity of design and function. Such a small muscle, responsible for all human life...there is no greater beauty than this. I slowly applied pressure, feeling its beating becoming erratic, then stopping entirely. I placed the heart back in its hallowed space, then laid down on top of the girl, my naked skin pressing against her exposed flesh. I kissed her again, accepting her silent expression of gratitude for that final act.

We laid like that for quite a while. Two days, I believe, during which I consumed most of what I had removed from her. It would have been quite wrong of me to let it go to waste, after all. I believe the examination itself lasted almost three days, bringing my total time with the girl to almost a week. Eventually, however, I had to move on. I cleaned up and moved to a different hotel, under a different nom de guerre. Now that I've updated you, my dears, I believe I'm going to go out for a walk. This is a lovely neighborhood, and I feel that there's something I am to see here before I depart this fair city. Perhaps Father has something planned for me. In any case, I should be on my way.

Ta ta for now, my dears.