First things first:  I'm sorry if I worried anyone.  Lucia, you warned me about going crazy after letting things bottle up, and...well, you get a point.  Lucia 1, Moral 0.

...right.  Second.  I think oh, fuck it.  I know I'm being followed.

On my way home from work (I'm thinking of quitting, seeing as how shit always seems to go down as I'm leaving the library), I came to the same intersection where the Blank killed and puppeteered a guy into a car crash oh so many moons ago.  Tonight, of course, it was bright.  No stars, no streetlights.  Actual sunlight.  Hooray for summer.

As I'm crossing, taking care not to step in any day-old horseshit (parade; don't ask), I came down with a minor headache.  Oh, and paralysis.  Nothing says 'fucked' like a headache and paralysis.  I swear, if I don't get my ass killed before I'm out of my house, I will buy as much aspirin as I can on my meager budget, just in case things get all 'Slendery' at college (which they probably will).

So I was standing still, in the middle of the intersection, waiting for a car to come down the street at thirty miles an hour and hit me, when I heard footsteps coming up behind me.  Heavy, crunching footsteps.  By the sound of him, he was twelve feet tall, six hundred pounds, and wearing Army boots.  Either that, or his footsteps were amplified.  I find that unlikely, as they would've had to been louder than a jet engine for me to hear them over the sound of my own heartbeat and the overwhelming cacophony of 'ohshitohshitohshitohshit' tearing through my mind.

That's about when I feel the razor-thin edge of a blade tickling my throat, right at that little dip in the collarbone (probably a technical name for it, but I don't care; I'm not a friggin' doctor) and a gloved hand at the back of my head.  Slowly, this guy circles around me, tracing my neck with the blade in a way that felt just plain wrong.  He certainly seemed to be getting his jollies off of it.  He gets in front of me, and cups my cheek with his hand.  And he was fucking grinning.

"Peek-a-boo, Little Lion."

And then he was gone.  Just like that.  Creepy-ass paralysis, creepy-ass knife-rape, creepy-ass grin, and creepy-ass whisper, all in one creepy-ass Proxy package.  Now you're thinking "Moral, he could've been any creepy-ass, knife-crazy spook out to get you.  That doesn't make him a Proxy!"

...I can't remember his face.  I looked straight at him, right into his eyes, and I can't remember a second of it.  The grin stuck with me because it was so...hollow.  Like he was wearing a mask, but I know he wasn't.  I don't know how I know; I just know, y'know?

Sorry, couldn't resist.  Tend to resort to stupid 'humor' when confronted with a creepy-ass kniferaper Proxy.  ...I think I just found his name.  Kniferaper.  Let me know if that name pops up on any Proxy circuits, alright?

The best evidence is what he said.  'Little Lion' is what the Proxy 'asmodeus' (yeah, without the capital 'a'; lord, I was a dork) called 'Nobody' in my fake blog, the one I'm pretty sure got me into this whole mess.  Numerous people must've read that blog, but for one of them to not only have found me and go through the trouble to put up a Perception Filter around his face?

Ladies and gents, it would seem I have my own personal Proxy.



  1. Sounds like date rape to me.

    Get a gun. Seriously. Runners seem to underestimate the usefulness of those...

    Keep updated.

    1. I know it sounds stupid, but I've always hated guns. I think my ears are way too sensitive.

      Still, you have a very good point. I'll see what I can find. =]

  2. jugular notch, dear Luminoth. that's the dent between your clavicles. If there's one thing my photographic memory is good for, it's memorizing entire biology textbooks.

    email me back, yes? I don't want my score to go any higher. That's a bad thing.

    also, it'd be "kniferapist".....

    As for a gun, North. if you're not an experienced shot they can seriously get in your way or be used against you more than they help. I'd keep looking for that machete, Moral.....

    1. Logging into my Email as I speak.

      ...didn't think of that. I just got an image of knives running from a naked guy in a mask.

      And oddly enough, that was the first thing I did when I got home from work; jumped in the car (driven by someone else) and bought myself a machete. ...and about three different knives. I'll bet that didn't raise any red flags at Scheel's. -_-;

    2. good. Don't be surprised if you're catching me in a bad moment. i've already explained to Swan today that I'm feeling unlike myself.

      Really? that's what "kniferaper" connotated to me.

      Glad you've got those weapons, at least.....yeah. that'll do you good.

    3. Aye; saw that. Wasn't sure what to say though, so I left off commenting until something relevant and/or helpful came to mind.

      Great minds think alike. =] ...even if the image is disturbing.

      Aye. I should be sufficiently armed. Just have to work on that custom sheath for the machete that I mentioned earlier. xD

    4. Couldn't agree with you more Lucia. And yeah, I can tell you by experience Moral: Shooting a deer and shooting someone that shoots back is NOT the same thing.

      Maybe sticking to blades is a better idea for now. Still, since you're staying steady for a while, you should look into getting some target practice. It's never too late to LEARN how to use one...

    5. Another good point, North. There's actually a firing range not too far away; if I bought a gun, I could probably work on my shooting for a few months.

  3. You'd best be careful, [Moral]. Keep a longer blade around, so you don't have to get quite so close to deter your attacker.

    1. That's why I bought a machete. >=D

      Would've bought a full-length sword, but they're pretty wary of people that buy those here. On top of that, all I can find are display-quality blades, not useable weapons.

  4. Just be careful, Moral. You don't know what other sorts of shit you-know-who will throw at you.

    - DJ