Camazotz

They let me out of those straps about a week ago. I guess I feel okay for at least being there, making him afraid, but... well, I guess it doesn't matter now. Officer Doyle as well as half the police force and the jury are under protective custody as of this point.

We haven't really been doing... well, doing anything. There's apparently Omicron and Phi, and then there's O'Zalia, who seems to have powers similar to mine. Definitely similar, but... not too similar, I guess. He can speak into people's minds like me. But he can also read them. I think I've even seen him do crazier things than that.

Phi seems to have taken an interest in me. And not in a good way, either. Upon questioning, I happened to answer that I think I've had this thing for... about 15 years? She had this look on her face. You know, the half confused, half startled face. I hope she doesn't try anything. I've actually grown fond of these people. May be Stockholm Syndrome. Maybe they're actually nice people... well, they're nicer than me, and that's a start.

Well... that's not what I really wanted to talk about.

I had a kind of crew. We called ourselves The Demons' Hands, because we each had some pretty strange powers. You know mine, but there were a few others. There was a little pale kid tried as an adult for the murder of three hermits on the beach (with an icicle, no less) that seemed to create icicles and other ice weapons from thin air, there were a couple of religious fanatics who claimed they could ask their god to raise the dead (at one point, one actually did after a man convicted of perjury got shanked in the neck over cigarrettes), there was a man with fangs who saw people in mirrors, there was a man who seemed to have a strong link to insects, there was... oh God, I can't tell what's real and what was bullshit to keep themselves from getting killed.

But then there was Camazotz.

Goddamn Camazotz. Of all of the Demons' Hands, he was the most violent, the most testy, and the one who helped me gain some control over my abilities. And he was my closest friend in that shithole. He helped me get out. I heard his power was that birds came out of his body. I never believed it before, though I guessed the scars that ran up and down his arms and chest told a different story.

I saw Camazotz today. O'Zalia said that I should wait outside, and he would try to evaluate and help me train my abilities to keep them from getting under control.

He was off smoking or doing Tai Chi or God-knows-what he does. It was late. 8:15, late. I was in an alleyway when I heard the squeaking of bats next to me.

"Hello, Kord."

"Camazotz?" He stepped out of the shadows very dramatically. He knew he was putting on a show and he played it up.

"Yes, Kord. It's me. So, how's life outside prison bars?"

"It's going well."

"So, who's you're new friend?"

"Another gifted one."

"Ah. From the outside, though, Kord. Tsk tsk, you changing heart?"

"Dammit, Camazotz, why are you here?"

"Followin' your lead, Kord. You were the first one of us to make it out, and I saw your attempts. Well, I read your attempts. So I decided, if he's getting revenge, why shouldn't I?"

"Revenge? Then why are you talking to me?"

"I need a partner in this. You scratch my back, and I scratch yours. I heard most the jury that sent you down the river is under police custody. It'd be a bitch for you to get in there, but I..." He lifted his arm to show me a large, new slit down his wrist. Instead of blood, it seemed to be leaking a black substance. Slowly a large, fuzzy bat head peeked out. "...I can hide in the night."

"...I can't."

He stopped. He glared. He was pissed off at me, for the first time I can remember since my first week of prison. "What?"
"I can't. I have people now."
"People?" He laughed. "People!? These so-called 'good, upstanding people' you're hanging with?"

"I never said they were that."

"Well, aren't they?"

"...they seem to be."

"You're getting weak, Kord. I told you my penalty for weakness long ago." He took out a long switchblade. I stepped back, but instead of thrusting it at me, he stabbed himself in the chest and pulled it to the right. A long cut appeared, and bats started flowing out. Dozens of bats began swarming, scratching and biting, trying to lift me off the ground.

I was almost pulled up and away- or killed- when I remembered something. So I tried as hard as I could and sent a sonic burst. Camazotz stumbled back, and the bats reentered his cut. His eyes were bleeding, and one almost seemed to swell out of it's socket. "Son of a bitch! What the fuck was that?"

"Sonic burst. Sucks when your avian friends rely on echolocation."

"Fuck this. Next time we meet, Kord... I ain't going to play fair and I ain't going to give you any time to think."

Again, this conversation has been replaying in my mind a lot. It's almost as big a scar as when Isaac took me down.

I tried keeping this from O'Zalia. I didn't do well at that. He noticed the bites and cuts, so I filled him in. After nodding his head for a while, he finally said, "Well, we'll keep an eye out for him."

...and that's really all I have to say now.

Dammit, Camazotz.

Just...

...why?

Plans Foiled

I almost let the voices take over again. No- I'm lying to myself. I did let them take over again. But it didn't matter anyways. He won out anyways. You might be wondering how I can remember this. The voices in my head had, for some reason, forced me to think this same conversation over. And over. And over again. They're forcing me to replay the events that happened afterwards- the shame and the humiliation. And I think the only thing I can do about it is talk about it to whoever reads this.

I was so close. So fucking close. I got past the guards. I stayed out of sight. I had the trap perfectly set for him to meet a somewhat fatal demise.

It started in his Study. I was there. In the closet, garrotte and silenced pistol on hand in case They were unable to complete my goals. Then someone suddenly tried to break into my mind. My masters tried stopping the message, but it came out clearly.

"To you, the Grayskin in the wardrobe, this is Isaac O'Zalia. I am in need of assistance."

The first thought that came into my mind was that it may have been a joke on my masters' behalf. Of course, I hear voices from them all the time. No. It was different. The voice was clear and sharp, and it didn't have any hints of raspiness or scorn in it. I tried blocking it, and when that didn't work, some of the voices left my head to scream into his mind, to block him out. He seemed to be fighting them. It hurt to think. Then he spoke to me- me directly.

"Grayskin, if you can hear me, I am in need of assistance."

Son of a bitch, I thought. Leave me alone.

"Why?"

I flipped my shit as silently as I could at that, then calmly, still keeping an eye on my target, said, None of your damn business. I'll get to you when I'm done.

"I can read your mind, you know. I know what you're planning on doing."

Yeah? So? They ruined my life.

"Murdering people with less power than you. That is not chivalrous."

Chivalrous?! They wouldn't even give me mercy...

"Because they didn't know what was in your head, Greyskin. They wouldn't know what was taking over you. And even if they did... they'd just experiment. Look inside your head, rip your brain out, scrape the fungus you call 'Master' out and try to weaponize it, for all I know."

Yes. For all you know.

"It's too late."

...what.

"I'm inside Doles' house right now."

...you wouldn't.

"Too late."

I remember Doles reacting to some unseen person. Then I heard the exact same voice say, "Stop," and I heard a gunshot. Then I heard Doles struggling. I heard the voice say "There's an assassin in the house. I need to take care of him." Then I saw the closet door flung open and an angry-looking, almost Sephiroth styled man staring me in the eye. Doles' mouth dropped and he pointed at me, backing slowly.

I tried to rush him.

But I couldn't even move.

I couldn't twitch, or walk, or even blink. It was like this O'Zalia person could stop my body with just a thought. So I sent a thought back at him. I tried willing myself to react to his blind spot, to become invisible in plain sight, but I couldn't. It was as if he didn't have one, as if he saw everything. So then I did the next best thing. I sent a loud thunderclap right into his head.

He flew backwards and I was once again chasing after Doles. "You son of a bitch! I'll get you for what you did to me!" I saw a large stone being chucked at me, so I ducked. Looking to my right, there was O'Zalia. His arms were firmly crossed.

"Stop it, Kord. Let it go."

So I did. I don't know what the Masters do to me when I black out, but sometimes I see people go completely senseless, black out, spout gibberish about shoggoths or the primordial plane. My Masters do enjoy their Lovecraft. They've told me a few times that it makes the less powerful humans go weak in the knees, and they get some strange kick out of it. But no... when I woke up from the endless plane of grey they send my consciousness to, Isaac was there. So was some other guy. I forget what he looks like, so I'm not even going to give a crap about describing him.

I was tied up.

"Are you going to behave now?"

I was about to

Scouting Officer Doles, Part 2

All right.

I have everything set up.

I know the time he sets dinner.

I know the time he files his reports to the station.

I know the exact time I have.

4:12 PM - 4:19 PM

I think I found the place I could hide.

There is a wardrobe. It's unused, and he only uses it for the bottom shelves, where he stores police records.

Those may also be useful...

well... wish me luck...

Scouting Officer Doles Part 1

• 9:15 A.M. Arrive at the Police Precinct with an ironed policeman's uniform and cup of coffee.
• 9:45 A.M. Run through heavy physical training.
• 10:20 A.M. Depends greatly. At this point between 10:20 and at least 1:45, either Officer Doles is either at a desk in the Precinct or tasked with an assignment.
• 2:15 P.M. Coffee break
• 4:05 P.M. Run security for the Precinct itself
• 6:00 P.M. Start to head home to remaining family
• 7:05 P.M. The pastor has shown up around this time for the past three days. From what I can tell, funeral arrangements are being made. His wife is in tears. He himself is extremely depressed.
• 11:17 P.M. The usual time Officer Doles goes to sleep.

This is his general schedule. I have been doing investigations and reconnaissance for the past five days. I will try to pick apart his routine- how he acts- how he thinks.

Ever play Assassin's Creed? I'll try to play it like that. Only it's not a game. Well... it still is, to me. But I know it's a real human life. I shall dispose of him anyways for what he began.

I'll continue scouting tomorrow.

-KORD

Damian Doles

It turns out that "innocent" man I talked about wasn't so innocent after all.

After reading the paper, I discovered the man I killed was none other than the son of one of my targets, Officer Amos Doles. The kid's name was Damian.

I could only imagine the pain on the unjust bastard's face right now. He had the nerve to mistreat me. I did not expect to kill those close to you, only you yourself, but that was quite the astounding coincidence.

I wish I could laugh in his face. I wish I could walk up to him, tell him every second of how poor Damian died. But no. I cannot do that. I cannot show my face. I am, in fact, wary of having this blog. It may attract police, and sometimes They talk directly to me, warn me of Others who share similar abilities to me. If Others should find my blog...

in any case, I feel absolutely no remorse for the kid of old Amos. If only Amos knew.

They were controlling me before I could control Them. Now I've been practicing. I am unable to maintain the power I would if, say, They took over my consciousness, and my hold on them is very weak, but now I have en even greater advantage against Amos. Amos and all the others who abused me, tortured me, sent me to solitary so the other prisoners couldn't hear my screams...

...oh yes. I believe that I might kill more people close to Officer Doles. It seems to make Them happy. And it sure as hell makes me happy.

-KORD

Innocent

They were hungry. I had to feed them. So instead of targeting one of those who wronged me, I had to harm an innocent man. Innocent. What a word. How was that man innocent? The man had wronged me as much as all others. He was a part of the system that shackled me for what people must have known as accidents. No.

They called me a terrorist for one mistake, one slip of the mind, one time I let Them take over. They must have known that it was not my fault. It was Their fault. No. Society could not handle such an idea, and so they locked me in a prison for eight months.

But this man. This man didn't wrong me in particular. No. He is apathetic to me. In being uncaring to me, he may be even a worse offender than those who openly harmed me and attacked me.

After a mental war similar to what I said above, I stalked him intently. I tried to get his habits, his moves. I probably could have killed him as easily as a man could kill a fly. I needed a place free of civilians or place the man in such a situation that nobody would suspect me of committing foul play.

I soon found my chance when the man was waiting on an intersection to cross the street. The light blared a red hand. They willed the man's eyes to see the red hand change to the green lights of a walking figure. He began to pace across the street before that pickup truck came.

The carnage was instantaneous and bloody. The man exploded in half, his innards draping themselves around the driver. The driver swerved. He swerved right into a nearby apartment building.

The more carnage I saw, the more I felt Them grow slowly more and more satisfied. By the time questioning was done (They willed my face to be unrecognizable to the police) it was nearly 5:00. So I decided to head to a nearby McDonalds, take whatever greasy, artery-clogging foodstuffs they threw at me, and head to my hotel.

After all, I can always wait one more day.

-KORD

Free At Last

Goddamn it feels good to get back into the free world again. It took me eight months in a state prison, but I'm finally free. And trust me- this time, I ain't going back. Ever again.

This is how I did it. The police officer who was driving me to the Courthouse for my hearing relied intently on his GPS. Then They did their magic. I don't enjoy relying on them unless it's absolutely necessary, and, with a possible death sentence, I found that specific time to be the right time. They told him things, consuming the voice of the GPS and jumping in like a changeling.

Turn left

Then right

Straight .3 miles

Then turn into a goddamn wall.

I think I'm forgetting something. Something... I don't know, expository. Oh, right. My name. Kord. That's all you need to know about me. And Them. For those who want to read this, it's going to be a wild ride and you're going to follow good old Kord on a nice little avenue I like to call revenge.

They shall help me.

I will accept Their offer.

-KORD