Goodbyes are always so awkward.

Where do I begin?

I feel like I’ve become the bearer of bad news or something. My five or six posts here have been nothing but dealing with whatever it was Elaine currently couldn’t, and I guess now she really isn’t able to cover my ass.

That’s right. She’s dead.

Went down in a blaze of fucking glory, though, so good on her. Know what they say about mother bears and their cubs? Yeah, that’s a pretty solid analogy for what just went down. Think she might’ve  managed to get one of the guy’s balls at some point, and judging by the way he screamed I’m guessing Elaine brought more than just her favourite hunting knife with her.

Actually, I guess I’m not being entirely honest. This all went down earlier today, and after finally managing to (sort of) console Em and pass her off– hell, I’m not exactly taking this well myself – I'm off again.

Why post now, then? Well, I’d be damned if I could have managed a post that wasn’t shit, Elaine’s dead, Em’s safe, we’re in some unspecified location I’m not going to mention for fear of that crazy bastard Angmar destroying the warehouse he was holding Em hostage in followed by a few ramblings about I’m not a father what the fuck am I supposed to do with a kid.

Well, at least one of those issues has been sorted out: Em’s off to live with Ben. A permanent home’ll be good for her. Safe.  Safer than she’d be with me, anyway, which isn’t too difficult to achieve.

As for me, blogging isn’t really my thing. There’s something about loudly announcing my plans, feelings and actions for the world to see that I don’t find appealing or particularly smart.

Maybe that’s just me, though.

Anybody who I want to contact me has my details, and everybody else… well, you people'll find a way, I'm sure.

Elaine, though I got my goodbyes out of the way before we went into the warehouse, I’ll state it again: thank you for everything.

She’s got one more post she wants me to put up. Emily’s already in more responsible hands than mine and, well, I’m off to do my own thing.

As for the research? Rich and I are still getting things together. Figure we’ll post it on the original blog. We’ll see. At any rate, neither of us’ll be around the blogosphere anymore.

I guess that’s the end of that. Best of luck. God knows we all need it.

Of all the things I wanted to wake up to...

... Elaine in hysterics is not one of them.

Hey. I guess it's been a little while. Festivities and whatnot and oh, yeah I guess the above is pretty important, too.


So, Gargoyle made a post.

Normally this doesn't bother me. That's all fine and good. My opinion on the matter I'll leave out because, frankly, I've got enough enemies and I don't really want to make any more.

But clearly, this bothered Elaine.

If anything, Gargoyle, I'll give you this: relax, I know what I'm doing. 

I guess I can't really blame him. When you say she's got a few skeletons in her closet... oh, baby, you don't know the half of it. But judging by her spectacular little reaction to Ben's transcript - which, I should mention, doesn't include anything that we haven't already heard about her - I'm not about to go putting it out there for the world to see.

Again.

Spoiler: she doesn't have the drinking under control. Locking herself in her room every night and reeking of alcohol every morning is far from 'under control.'

But it's not my place to judge.

So I'll go back to filling the farmboy's role while he and his family (fuck, man, so glad to hear you all got out of there alive. That's insane.) recover. I'm no St. Claire but hey, I guess I'll do?

It's either me or the alcohol. Sometimes me and the alcohol.

It's not a problem if you get drunk together, right?

She's Alive.

Barely. But she'll live.

Just thought I'd let you know.

An Alternate Point of View

I didn't hack the blog. For those of you who have actually read this whole account you'll know that I have the password because Cam gave it to me. For whatever reason, Elaine hasn't changed it yet.
Yes, hello, this is Jake. Seems Elaine has a lot more of a following these days. All due to her lies and deception, no doubt.
Yes, I know the truth about the woman you all know and love. This woman you work with so closely, trust with your secrets, trust to work for the good of the runners. And I'm more than happy to share the truth with all of you. But first, so that you know why I'm telling you all of this, some background on me.

I met Cam four years ago, when we were both in school. I was taking my leave from the Army for school, and we met in a class. I probably never would've even had the chance to talk to him, except he ended up my lab partner. I'd never actually dated a man before, though I'd had encounters of more physical kinds, but Cam was so sweet and so good that I fell for him hard. He seemed to reciprocate, judging by the glances and smiles and blushes, but he refused any and all offers of dinner or movies or coffee.
He rushed home after class every day, to sit alone by the phone. The semester was almost over by the time I figured out why. One day his phone rang in the middle of lecture and he looked at it and ran out of the room. Got himself into a lot of trouble in the doing.
He was missing in class for a week. When he came back, he was exhausted and falling asleep all over our work, but beaming. And then he told me about Elaine. Not much, of course not, so much of her is so secret. But. He told me about this friend from his childhood who was in trouble and needed a place to hide out for a few days. He let it slip that it was dangerous, but he didn't care. He was surprised when I called him on it, told him he shouldn't risk his life. He said that he had to look after Elaine, and that was that.
Even so, he invited me to have dinner with me that night. And thus we were dating.
He was always so soft and kind and innocent, so very in love with me and with Elaine, and he worked so hard to keep us getting along. He and I only really got serious when she went to jail and he didn't need to worry about her needing a place to stay at a moment's notice.
I was always acutely aware that no matter how much he loved me, how much I fought and begged to free him from her grasp, everything he was belonged to her first, and she never hesitated to make use of that. Ever.
The wedding was the first time he ever did anything for me before her.
But, because of her, it was wrecked.
Because of her, only a few days later I woke to find my lover bleeding out quietly on the bed next to me.
Because of her I chased a phantom out the door after he killed my husband.
Because of her I spent three weeks in a forest without end, hunted like an animal and getting ripped limb from limb every sunset.
Because of her I spent two weeks in a false heaven where my Cam was alive and Elaine wasn't there. She'd never existed and Cam was so much happier without her. Then that man showed up and tore me from my paradise to set me loose on the world.
Because Cam is dead and I need to set things right.

Let me clarify. I don't want to kill her. It might be nice to end her in such a visceral way, but the most important thing is for her to be exposed for what she is.

She is not some good, kind, noble woman. She's a killer. She killed for the first time when she was eight years old. The victim? Cam's twin brother, Joey. She then proceeded to kill fifteen people, mostly children, ending in her brother Lewis and her parents. The police found her hiding in Cam's closet. You can look it up, it made the national news. Her birth name was Melanie Brown, and it was back in New Jersey.
I don't know the details of those two years, Cam wouldn't tell me much, but I know she did it.
After that, I don't know much. She spent some time in an asylum, then ran away when she got out, but I know she was working for someone big and dangerous-possibly killing for them- when I met Cam. Of course, she went to jail for drugs, so it could have been just that.
All I do know is that she used Cam at every turn for his whole life. She shows no concern or remorse for people, she has no real feelings to speak of. Cam used to cry about 'his poor broken Elaine'.
There was nothing I could do.

I just want the woman who destroyed my Cam's life to see justice.

Keep Moving

That's the plan, anyway. We left NYC yesterday,after saying a fond farewell to Rachael. It was nice, staying with her, rather peaceful, but the longer we stayed there the more danger we were all in, from her and from all the things chasing me.

So we're off, to visit another friend. Again, not telling you lot where I'm headed, I don't want an unpleasant surprise when I get there, and the person I'm visiting would definitely not thank me for bringing down a storm of proxies on their home. Suffice it to say that I am going to see a friend who's got more information that could be useful.

I'm starting my work back again. I'd been slacking, hadn't really done any research and I've only read one or two new blogs in the past several weeks. Fuck that shit. I've been wallowing too damn long. It's time to start fighting properly again, instead of just getting by.

I have a goal, one that is hard but definitely possible, and I'm doing everything in my fucking power to make sure I achieve it.

In the meantime, I have something Spencer gave Cam that I have the permission to post and discuss. Expect to see that within the next couple days, as soon as we stay someplace with a scanner. I have a couple of other topics that I'm planning research posts on within the next week or so as well.

I'm not going to roll over and fucking die because of all of this. Cam made it pretty clear he wanted me to live.

Back in Town

I'm in NYC, and it's beautiful and huge and bustling, just like I remember. The drive from Texas was hell, but I got here a day early and ended up able to spend yesterday with Spence, taking in the city almost like just another tourist. There was some craziness the previous night, and he came by to check on me, then ended up sticking for a while. He's a good friend. The two of us spent the day talking and remembering.  It was... it was nice. I needed that. It felt like I was finally getting a chance to say goodbye.

This was Cam's home, every time I've been here was with him. There's too much of him everywhere, he loved this city, loved showing it off to me in the hopes of making me smile for real. He's always been very good at that-I guess that's what happens when you've known someone for twenty years. Sure, he wasn't actually able to be physically with me for a lot of it, but he never let me fall out of touch, never let me ditch him. I think most of you thought that I met him when we started rooming together, we tended to encourage that belief, but that was not quite the truth. I never... I never bothered setting the record straight because I didn't think it mattered, but we were kids together, before he moved here. After shit hit the fan with me, he consistently wrecked his own life to be there when I needed him. No matter where I was or what trouble I'd gotten into, he was always there wanting to help. He deserves for you to know that.

The only reason I came here, to this city with all it's pain and memories and beauty, was two people I needed to see. The first, Shrodinger, I picked up rather early this morning. She really is that sweet, even desperate, looking like death, and missing a hand. She put up the request for a rescue a week ago and I got in touch, because like HELL was I leaving her to deal with this Cheshire bastard alone anymore. Didn't want to linger long there, so I just picked her and her stuff up and got the fuck out of there before something could show up and try to stop us.

We then proceeded to Rachael's house. Normally I would not go into the home of a proxy when seeking someplace vaguely resembling safe to rest and plan my next move, but she's a bit of a special case these days, and as much as I feel like a bitch saying so, physically she's not exactly a threat, so if it comes to that, I'm not too worried. She says she's pretty good at dealing with the 'itch' as she calls it and can give us warning if we need to get out, so I'm hoping that I'm just worrying too much.

I don't know what exactly I expected, really, but it wasn't her, in this cheerful, if a little dark and dusty, home. She looks to be in her thirties and absolutely beautiful, though everything about her is sad enough to break your heart. She swooped in and started mothering Shrodinger from the moment we arrived, and I've admittedly done a lot of awkward hovering and trying to help. She is so infinitely kind to us both, it kind of throws any expectations out the window. It's nice, really. I'm hoping our stop here will help Kat a little, and maybe I'll get lucky and it'll help me as well.

On the Road Again

So I'm traveling again, this time with a specific location and purpose in mind, though I won't put it up here for the proxy douches to see and interfere with. It's kind of a long trip, but I don't mind the drive. I've got plenty of good music to blast and time to enjoy the view of so many places I have never been.

Stopped at a rest stop to type this out because... well, I'm alone again. When I left the hotel this morning I also left Nick. I'm really just not built for this dating stuff, apparently. It throws me off, makes me weak and stupid and distracted. Nick, I'm sorry, but I don't want to get myself or one of you killed because I was too distracted to do what I need to do. 

I've got a lot to do while I'm on the run. Some of you are already expecting me, and there are a lot of things I need to read up on. It's more important than ever to keep up on my research now, I'm just getting a little more hands on about how I do it.

And on that note, I need to get going again. I've got a long way to go.

Nick, I'm sorry.

Supernatural Weirdness

So, I've been with Nick, traveling around more or less aimlessly, since all of the bullshit on Friday. I didn't... I feel like an asshole for not noticing before, though Nick assures me that it was some kind of mindwhammy that kept me from noticing until it is over. He's been missing. Not in the physical sense, he was still here to move and eat and occasionally say something, but in the mental/spiritual/whatever sense. He was a little busy fighting a hoard of knights riding unicorns, and fuck if that isn't the weirdest thing I've ever had to accept as reality, even with fucking shared dreams and faceless stalkers and teleporting murderers.

Okay, sometimes having a lover that half exists on a plane of existence that makes no damn sense to you is a little frustrating. Here, though, it's mostly just terrifying. That's six days. Six days, he was gone, and I didn't fucking notice because a UNICORN was screwing with my head? What the crap is that? I've been functionally alone for six days. I almost lost him, and I didn't even fucking know about it till it was over because he was still there and breathing and seeming fine. Still curling up with me at night. Still...

Well, fuck. Anyway, he's here now. And I... I'm going to go enjoy his company while I have it.

Back to Work

I'm sorry about last night's post. Yesterday was bad.

When I escaped Star's diabolical plans, instead of heading straight out of town like I said I would, I went back to the apartment. I needed my notes, my money, some clothes, and the things Cam left for me. A pile of letters and a notebook.

The idiot made one of THOSE notebooks. And I never knew. Hidden in the blank pages is a pretty accurate picture of... of how he died. He definitely drew it. I... I don't know when he did, but he knew. He fucking knew. What the fuck is this? Apparently he was never as Slendyfree as he said he was. I just don't understand why he lied.

While waiting for Nick at the apartment, I started talking to Shaun, and he...I dunno, he went fucking nuts and started freaking out about how I wasn't safe. I didn't know what else to do, so I ran. Six blocks faster than I've bugged out in a long time. Found myself at the cemetery. Got to see Cam one last time before I left town...

That was where Nick met me. I was an absolute mess, I'll admit it. I was lucky that it was deserted that morning. Not many people want to visit a graveyard on a bright, hot morning. The rest of the day was spent alternately doing things like setting up a meeting with August and Spencer and selling the car and randomly breaking down on poor Nick. I'm not proud of it, but I had my one day. I let myself grieve for one day. I gave an entire day to the fear and misery and desperation.

No more. I've got work to do if I want to help those of you who need my help. I don't have time for tears and crying.

August, Spencer, I'm sorry you had to see me like that yesterday. Dinner went badly, and a lot of that is my fault. Thank you for all of your help.

Escape

I'm out, I'm out, I'm out, I'm free, I'm safe. Well, as safe as I can be, under the circumstances. By the time this goes up, I'll have been gone for two hours. I'm getting the fuck out of town, and that should be plenty of time for me to be off in a direction and be difficult to trace.
The alarm probably will have gone up by then, anyway.

It was surprisingly easy to get away. Terminator was on guard duty, and he was tired and distracted and forgot to lock the door... Something distracted him, he ran off, and it wasn't much work to sneak out. I almost feel bad for Star-two days he was in top form and some incompetent moron ruined it for him.
Yeah, if he hadn't been planning on killing me today, I would be sad about that. As it stands, FUCK YES FOR INCOMPETENT MINIONS!

Anyway, I'm at a McDonalds posting this and they're getting pissy that I haven't ordered anything, so I'm going to head out. I'll put a proper post tonight when I'm on the road.

Apparently I'm a Damsel Now

eah. This week can officially go fuck itself.

Just to recap, this week my cat, my neighbor, and my best friend have been killed because of me. I've been questioned and accused by the police. I've been forced into protective custody on threat of jail time for 'parole violations'. I've been insulted and harassed by the officers 'protecting' me. I've been denied the right to attend the funeral of one of the people I care about most in the world. And now I've been fucking kidnapped.

What. The. Fuck.

I'd better keep this simple, else my captor might get bitchy. When he's not being cartoonishly insane, he's actually fairly threatening, something I think we all tend to forget, and I'd like to keep the bruising to a minimum, thanks. I'd rather not spend the next few weeks healing up because I was stupid and reckless.

Okay, that's a complete lie, you know me. I'm as noncompliant as they come, and Shitstar you're going to have to do something about it if you want that to change. I only agreed to write this post because I wanted people to know that I'm still fine. A bit roughed up, but fine.

Right. Anyway. I was sitting in the hotel room, as per the rest of this terrible fucking week, when Cuntmuffin drove the killdozer through the fucking wall.  Just out of nowhere. I have no idea how he found where I was-I didn't even know where I was. I'm not stupid, nor was it my job to protect someone stupidly against a fucking tank, so I went for cover while they shot up the room. Being unarmed I peered over but did not go charging out when the shooting stopped, only to find Cockrobin and a few of his minions(but not that fucking clown, thankfully) pouring out of the dozer. They grabbed me, and as there were four of them and I didn't have weapons, I didn't fight. Much.

And now I'm locked in a room again, except this time Shitstar and his morons are outside and I have NO IDEA when I'll be able to get out of here. Technically this is the point where I'm informed I'm supposed to do the whole 'Help me, Obi-Wan, you're my only hope' thing, but fuck that noise. Nick, stay put. I don't know where we are, though I'm almost positive we're still in town, we couldn't have gotten far in the Dozer. But I'm not exactly helpless, I'll think of something.

Probably

Back to the Real World

Elaine made me promise to put something up. The police are still talking to her-I think they're trying to get her to agree to protective custody. Like that would have happened even BEFORE Slendershit made the existence of police a damn moot point. Elaine's a stubborn bitch and that's not likely to change for the police. 
She hates them. Don't think she's ever told you lot that. Can't say I blame her really, not knowing what I know now. She's not overly fond of military types for the same reason, but she seems to have made an exception for me, which I'm grateful for.


Right. Sorry. Distracted. Don't want to think about things but I have to and fuck if I'm not supposed to be trained to deal with this sort of thing. It's a bit different out in the battlefield versus on your couch, though. 


To really understand this, I'm going to have to tell you about the phone calls we've been getting this week. Elaine didn't say anything up here because she didn't want to worry people, and the call we got yesterday she wanted to keep from Cam for a little while for his sake. Wednesday morning, Anne called us and told us that someone had left a torn up stuffed cat on the doorstep. We thought-we HOPED it was just a stupid prank or someone trying to psych us out. We didn't hear anything Thursday, so we relaxed a little. Yesterday, however, Anne called us with the news that River had been killed and left on display. Not just killed, either, but skinned and tortured and... It was bad. Anne was hysterical telling us about it. She called the police and Elaine and I agreed to keep this from Cam until we were leaving so he could enjoy his vacation.
We agreed that it was probably a proxy, but that there was nothing we could do until we got home. We did warn Anne to stay away for her own safety, but apparently she didn't listen


Anne was in our apartment when we got home. It looks like she had been trying to clean up some of the blood for us. Whoever killed her  used that to their advantage. The bleach she'd been using had been poured all over her mutilated body. It was gruesome and detailed and I really wish I could've kept Cam from seeing.


Elaine called the cops, because as much as she dislikes them she's not stupid. And we've been at the police station for the past hour. They think this has something to do with her past and want us all to go into protective custody until they can catch the killer.  There's no real good way to tell them that they WON'T catch the killer, so we're left looking like stubborn idiots. Really, I'm okay with that, so long as we're alive. Elaine and I are going to fortify the crap out of the apartment. No one gets in without us knowing about it.


Here's hoping that'll last us until we can figure out what to do from here.


Jake