It's getting worse.
I'm not being cynical here. Or, well, I
am being cynical, but it's
entirely justified. Seriously. Every time I show up for one of our
official meetings, we have a new batch of fresh Things (whose names
I'm omitting out of a 'sense of security,' but mostly 'cause I
couldn't quite remember. Like there were two vampires and some more
changey-things, one of whom was a dragon? I dunno), newly inducted
into the wonderful knowledge that there are untold horrors lurking in
the unknown shadows, waiting to kill you and eat your souls. Or,
soul-equivalents, for all of you fucking monster-things reading this.
I don't know how it works.
Speaking
of how things work, apparently Mya and those other changey-creatures
have bizzaro-clones. Or, well, they HAD them, until they tracked them
down and murdered them because, uh...reasons. Miss Tomorrow hocked
the corpses on the other side of the Hedge, from what I heard, and I
hope she got something good for them?
Now,
you may say, “New Guy (and I will call you New Guy despite the fact
you've been here longer than I have), what do bizzaro fairy clones
have to do with anything?”
This
is a good question.
You
see, here's the thing. I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing. I
was normal once. Or, well, I'm still normal,
it's just now I know stuff that I'm not supposed to. And it all stems
down to four words: Shit Is Out There.
And
that shit just came home. Or, uh, to my house. See, about a week ago,
when things started getting cold in town, things got...weird at my
apartment complex. People started being kind of...busy. Curt, even.
Like they had better stuff to do than say hi. Now that, you can blame
on the standard degradation of 21st
century society, fine.
But
then I noticed the heat. Like, everyone started rigging up space
heaters everywhere. It got to the point where the basement laundry
room was like a sauna.
And on
top of that, everyone was humming Michael Jackson's bad. In harmony.
Seriously, you could walk from one room to the other, and completely
different people were humming the tune over and over again. I managed
to fight off the weird ear-wormy meme through the force of my
indomitable will, but it looked like everyone else was under the
spell.
Based
on the data I had (everyone making the apartment building stupidly
hot), I asked myself who would want such high temperatures, and so I
came to the conclusion that my apartment building had been taken over
by lizard people. What, with the cold blood and all.
When I
presented my concerns to the Cell at large, people laughed at me.
Given
the fact that I presented this intel to an audience of Frankensteins,
werewolves, half-vampires, psychics, and lord knows what else...I was
not encouraged by this reaction. It's like “Oh, our kind of
weirdness is fine, but anything else is CRAZY.”
Does
no one else see the cognitive dissonance here?
ANYWAY,
we rounded up a posse of like a full dozen people, including all the
newbies, which was a mistake (which I'll go into later), to
investigate! And lo and behold, once we got there, and everyone saw
how hot it was, and how everyone was humming the same damn song,
people were like “Wow Peter, you were actually right!”
AS IF
THIS WAS IN QUESTION. Seriously, I can't shoot lightning or any crazy
shit, but if I know anything, it's sniffing out weird-ass shit, which
is why I'm hanging out with you guys.
In any
case, what started as a routine recon mission (with a cunning cover
story courtesy of yours truly, I might add) turned into a straight-up
clusterfuck. First, Li'l Zeus, one of the newbies, decided it was a
good idea to turn out the power. I knew I should've left his ass back
at the base once I saw him hauling around a fucking poleaxe. I can
appreciate that one needs something big and stabby every now and
again, but if that's all you have to contribute, find those missions
that cater to your talents. We have those. Seriously.
ANYWAY,
once the power went out, all of the zombified humming people chased
us right the fuck out of the apartments, which was fine...until
Vampire Princess Selena (or something, if I got her name wrong, I
don't really care) decided it was a good idea to DRIVE HER CAR INTO
THE CROWD OF INNOCENT BRAINWASHED PEOPLE. Aren't we supposed to have
rules for not drawing attention to ourselves in stupidly hyperviolent
ways? Just saying, Things.
But
then her car caught on fire, so I guess that serves her right, crazy
bitch.
But
yeah, a tactical retreat was in order. And if that wasn't bad enough,
my apartment caught on fire as well, and along with it most of my
worldly possessions. Now I could be enlightened about it, and look at
the silver lining, and say that nothing that was there couldn't be
replaced...but on the other hand, most of you seem to fucking laugh
at my dismay- and shit, for all I know, maybe you're eating my
despair like delicious emotion-cake, because that's how monsters
work, I dunno.
But
that's the story of how I'm now living in the Citadel with little to
my name but a (now empty) bottle of vodka and the Director's Cut of
Willow on DVD. I may be a little bit bitter. But, uh, I had a least
two women offer to let me crash at their places, due to my rugged and
roguish charm, so silver linings, I guess?
I
still hate pretty much all of you.
And
yeah. In other news, we sent a bunch of the stabbity guys (including
that bunch of murderhobos from Lake Charles) into the sewers, where
they murderized two Abominations made out of crayons. So yay for them
being productive, I guess?
But
yeah. I've moved into that room on the corner. Stay out.
