Rocked the boat

Someone tried to kill me today.

That feels new, oddly enough. It's not that it's never been a possibility, but this time it was different.
You can kill people lots of ways, we're fragile, breakable little things.  Before it was always a chance that you'd live through being stabbed or bludgeoned. This one had a gun.

Stupid. Was he trying to get himself killed?

Maybe. That's the point of a gun. You can, presumably not kill someone with it, but at the end of the day, it's what it was made for. Killing. Using it another way goes against what it was made for. Against it's... purpose, so to speak.

He's not exactly doing so well.
Bullet wounds will do that.

Gun's mine now. Not doing so well though. But I'm still alive.

The important bit, right?

Right.

Back on the fucking road then.

What the fuck I did on my blog-vacation

In which Robin finishes whatever the fuck he was writing about before;

Where the fuck was I with this?

The basement. Cellar. Dungeon. Whateverthefuckyouwanttocallit.
Right.
Cold. It was cold.

Of course it was cold it's practically fucking winter outside. Never mind that it's nearly bloody April.

Concrete floors don't help that. There's a little drain, like the kind you find in boiler rooms or old laundry rooms, rusted round little drain with holes in it.

There's a bit of pipe, big metal pipe, running along the wall above me. It's got those little C-shaped brackets holding it in place and then it heads up into whatever is above I suppose. Wall's pretty cracked. Old building from the looks of it. Old or not taken care of. Frost damage, or just wear. Fractures around the brackets.

I'm handcuffed to it. Just the one hand. Honest to god handcuffs.

Guess they couldn't find the zip ties? Pockets are empty. Which is a shame.

I can do handcuffs. Zip ties would have been a bit of a problem.
Long story, I had a friend in police foundations.

The plumbing looks... old. It's not copper. I don't think they make copper piping this big. Not old enough to be lead but it's black under the dust, like one of those old-school frying pans, or the stereotypical wood burning stove. There's a busted, rusty water heater over to one side of me and an old beat up washer and dryer on the other side. Furnace on the other side of the water heater. The whole place can't be much more than 7 x 9, low ceiling. The door's pretty low too. Maybe it's under something else?

Don't have my phone, so I don't know how long I'm waiting there. Time does that... stretching thing. Footsteps. Some fucker in a mask opens the door. Big white mask, no mouth, sort of shield shaped? Really pointy chin. Tall guy, big black coat on the shoulders, pinstripe suit.

He reaches up to brush the snow off with his hand and...

Oh god. His hand. His hand is... it looks like it's just flayed skin but that's not right. That can't be right. It's not really a hand. It's a claw. His hand is a claw. A mangled, broken why is it so red. Red like... raw meat. Makes you want to throw up just looking at it.

There's another one with him. Shorter, lanky. Still taller than me Fucking hockey mask. Like he's Jason Fucking Voorhees. Big, baggy, beat-up sweater hanging off of them... kid? Holes in it. Pinstripe doesn't do any talking. Just stands there, for all the world acting if he were the grim fucking spectre of death itself.

The kid? The kid talks a lot. Talked a lot. Big talker.

Ha. Solved that problem, didn't you? Solved it quite well. Don't look at me like that, the bastard had it coming and you know it. This jog any memories?

"Going to fly away little bird?"
Posturing. He's fucking posturing. The fucking bastard.
"Can't run now!" Laughter.
"Not so tough now!" More laughter. kick in the gut. More laughter, and a few more kicks. ribs ache.
"Scared little birdy. We're going to clip your wings." Laughing again. Like a cut-rate villain. Don't think he was all there.

And then he fucked up.

"You know what happens next?" Laughing. Getting closer. "We find your family. And we cut them all- wait." He pauses. You can hear the grin in the voice. "Yours is dead, isn't it?"

That seems like a mistake to me.

"Poor little bird, all alone."
He made to kick me again. Grabbed his other leg by the ankle with my legs. Don't think he saw that coming. Tripped up fell backwards like he'd had a carpet jerked out from under him. Skull made a nice cracking sound when it hit the floor. Not sure if I was grinning by this point.

Not sure what happened next.

Well no, that's a lie. We can infer some things that happened between A and B. By the time you came to, the unlucky bastard was a bloody wreck on the floor, and there was a bloodstained pipe in your hand.
No, still not over that?

Excuse me while I take the opportunity to attempt to empty my already empty stomach a second time.

You said "wreck" right?

I did. It's more that he's a loosely connected set of chunks that have been smeared across the floor. Connect the dots, it's not hard. I imagine it is pretty hard to laugh when you're spitting your teeth out onto the floor. Harder if you're coughing up blood. And I would suppose it's pretty much impossible to laugh when you're dead.
Some people just have no class.

His buddy with the fucked up... hand-thing, must have fucked off. There's a big hand-shaped smear on the wall near where he was standing. Not sure what it's made of, not going to bother finding out. Still needed to get the handcuffs off, but that's less of a problem now.

Plenty of tools. Didn't take much work to get free.

They had a pretty good set-up here. It's an old shop of some sort. Maybe did auto work, judging by the big doors and the lifts. Maybe a chop-shop. Has that kind of feel to it. Grungy, sketchy. The bits of car might be mine. Found a couple odds and ends that look like they were mine. There's a few things that look like graves out back. Doubt I'm the first to have wound up here.

Murdering fucks. Deserved what they got.

Someone's been living here, judging from the cot, the wi-fi and the shitty netbook. Can't find my laptop. Not like there was anything important on it.

In which I explain where the fuck I've been

It's been... one two three four... FIVE DAYS!

FIVE WONDERFULLY FUCKED UP DAYS!

Since I last posted on this blog. Don't know why I'm still bothering, but that's for another time. Excuse me if this is a liittle fucked up. I'm posting from a computer that isn't mine and whatever I've been dosed with doesn't quite seem to have worn off. Also the keyboard on it is a piece of shit.


So where the fuck do we start?

Physical condition perhaps?

Okay good a place as any. Physically you're a bit of a mess. A car accident, even a low speed will do that to you. Getting grabbed out of the wreck of said car will not improve that situation. Neither will dragging your sedated ass to a dingy, old, abandoned  building somewhere in... well there's no point in mentioning, and chaining someone to a bit of the plumbing in the cellar. Over all? Aches, pains, one shoulder is a little fucked up I think, to say nothing about the state of you ribs.

But then, I'm not a doctor. I am vaguely reminded of the second time my nose got broken. That was fun. But getting off-topic.

So what about mental condition?

Don't quite think I'm exactly qualified to assess that.

So, car accident you say?

Why YES! That was ALL FUCKING KINDS OF FUN. Let me tell you about the car accident.

It's a dusty stretch of back roads out in the middle of nowhere. The road comes to a Y-shaped intersection that's a bitch and a half to get around if you want to head down one arm from the opposite. Pretty deep ditch on either side. Fields, tree at the fork. I'm sort of parked in the middle of the road, trying to figure out which side of that fork to go down.

The old farmhouse is down the left-hand fork, so I start towards it.

Blink.

About half way down the road.

There he is.
There He is.
THERE HE IS. I think I might have lost it.

No question. You lost it.

The... wrongness of it. It. Not quite the right word.

Do we even have a right for that? The right word would probably be a wrong word all of it's own accord you know.

It's limbs are jointed the wrong way and where did the extra sets of arms come from? The car is moving and then
The last thing I remember thinking before the crash is 'he looks just like a tree'

Blink.

Tree. There's a tree there's a tree and then... white. Noise. A sort of ringing? That fades into a persistent honking noise that sounds like it's coming from all directions.

oh.

We seem to have crashed.

Idon't remember accelerating, or turning.

Or running into a fucking tree.

Am I in the ditch?
and then the door opens. I start to fall, the seatbelt catches me a little. Then.. hands, the seat belt is gone and pain in my neck. Things get hard to see and then black.

I wake up in a fucking cellar, chained to the plumbing. Like someone's idea of a bad horror film. Now, where did the...

pardon me, i think i'm going to have to be sick.

Can't Decide

Man goes to the doctor. Complains of problem with ankle
Doctor proceeds to beat the patient within an inch of his life.
Everyone laughs. Except the patient because he has fucking bruised ribs.

Typing this waiting in the ER. Hopefully they don't give a fuck.
That last little dust-up didn't go so well for me, you might have guessed. I'm not exactly a medical expert, but I severely doubt that my ankle should feel like this. Or my shoulder.
Now, I have two options:

1. Go to a hospital and say I got fucking mugged (which has the potential bring up the whole nine yards about murder, arson, and jaywalking)
2. Seek the help of a certain unlicensed professional.

Not really much of a choice is it?
So I called up a certain "Doctor". Maybe you're familiar? She didn't get back to me, so I wrote it off and kept driving.

I pulled in to a rest stop last night to catch a bit of rest, needed to stretch. Fucking cold night. And my jacket is still filled with holes. Need to replace it.

So this... woman shows up. White coat, scarf, what looked like chocolate but I'm assuming was blood on both.
Creepy fucking mask. Points for that, the thing was made out of bits of bone.
Not sure what it was painted with, don't want to know. Horn sort of thing, on the one side. Deer maybe?
What happened next? Ow. Really fucking ow.

She came at me with a fucking bone. Like a fucking shinbone.

Get on the ground. Pain, really bad idea. Face is still in one piece but she got your shoulder, more than a little raw. That's alright, you can shake it off. 

Roll over, you need to get up. Nope, foot planted in my ribs. Just about knocked the breath out of me.
Swing, try to hit something dumbass. The wrench in my pocket gets her in the leg.

Bad idea. She goes for my head. Try to pull my arm up. Wait, wrong fucking arm.
Pain. Everything goes white for a second, and then red. Blood in my eyes. More pain, boot in the ribs again.
Drives the breath out of me.
That's alright, you've been here before, plenty of times. Try to roll with it. If she wanted to kill you she'd have done it by now, right?

Lost track a little, more hits with that fucking bone. . I remember trying to pull my legs up, cover the squishy bits, that didn't sit too well with the crazy lady.
Not sure when she left or how long the beating lasted. I'm a fucking mess now. Bruises all over my arms legs back. Plenty of them on my ribs, nasty cut on the side of my head.
When I could move again, I had a bit of paper tucked in my pocket, and a fucking lollipop. Believe it. A fucking lollipop

It's a prescription, little hard to read, physicians apparently can't write worth shit, but this was worse.
"Anger management zalafl?" Trying to prescribe food maybe?
And then:  "Hello Robin, we haven't met before in person but I hope you feel better soon please take this gift as a sign of everyone's fucking appreciation for you."

That's just fucking cheery isn't it? I'm guessing the good Doctor caught up with me after all.
Fuck you too Doc. Fuck you too.

Note to self

Learn to land properly. My ankle is fucking killing me.

Stopped last night for a few minutes to grab something to eat. Someone was waiting by the car when I came out. So I avoided the car. Went for a bit of a walkabout. This feels... flat. It's not quite what I'm used to. Lot more buildings in Toronto, even downtown Ottawa had build-up. Highrises, that sort of thing. 
The walk didn't end well.

Whoever was watching my car had friends. Never really got a good look at 'em.

Running, you can hear their feet hitting the pavement behind you, but that's alright. Two? No, maybe three. Hard to tell.

They aren't far now. You don't have to be faster, not the whole time, just fast enough. Have to be smarter.

There's a fence, jump over it, swing the legs up. Like running away from that dog that lived nearby. You had to walk past it after school. Remember when it broke it's lead and came after you? Just like that. Over the fence.

Keep running, they're still on you, did you think it was going to be easy? Hard left, down the street. Cars coming from both directions, hard right, through the street. Mind the traffic now boys.

Now quickly, up over the fence between those houses. Make them work for it.

Oh shit. Dog. Move fast, keep going. Maybe he'll slow them down, another fence. Up and over it one more time. Almost in the clear now.

Fuck, ditch. Stick the landing, roll.

Pain, shake it off. Your ankle doesn't hurt that much. Sounds like the dog is dealing with one of them. Just get back up. Fuck.

Lost your footing there. Bottom of the ditch now. More pain. Shoulder this time. Not going to be easy. Alright, running isn't exactly a fucking option at this point. Hide. There's a culvert over there. Climbing out will take too long.

Looks like they're gone. Lucky bastard. Now, just need to get back to the car. Have some people to talk to.

Now I need a new coat

I can pick up the signal from the service centre on the other side of the highway from the parking lot over here. Barely.

They haven't really started over here. They've just shut down the service centre. I expect they'll tear it down soon enough. With any luck no one will notice.

I pulled into the service centre just about sunset. It's farm country here, one of the places around here is big on tomatoes. They're quite good actually. I didn't see how they got in. Two of them. Boy and a girl.

They couldn't have been much more than teenagers. 15-16, best guess. It was the giggling that set me on edge. I couldn't figure out which of them was doing it. Masks were a permanent sort of grin. Like a clown's facepaint. It's disturbing.

I didn't see her pull the knife on me. That cost me. Pulled my arm up to protect myself and she sliced me across it. Bandaged now, but it bled pretty nice. I'll have to stop and clean it properly I expect. Don't know if I'll need stitches. wouldn't be the first time, won't be the last


Her buddy grabbed me from behind. He was taller than me. Bad luck for him. I've always been of a mind that the longer someone's legs are the better. It just means the soft, squishy bits are a little easier for me to get at.
In this case it meant pushing him back into a wall, slamming my shoulder into his gut and my elbow into his crotch and trying to get his chin with my head. Headbutting people generally isn't a good idea, but you work with what you've got.

Bubbles Mcgiggle was harder. She was all over the place. Wouldn't stop moving. Few more shallow cuts. Going to need a new coat, she put enough holes in this one. Couldn't keep her hand still though. She was shaking the whole time. Like she was freezing cold, or having a walking seizure. And the damn laughing. I'm sure I missed part of it that only dogs would hear.

I'm sure I got lucky. She tripped over a bit of uneven floor. Almost got me in the neck when she flailed the damn knife around. More broken fingers after that. Boots are good. She didn't stop laughing when I stepped on the hand with the knife in it. It got worse. Lanky was a little less inclined to come at me when I took the knife off of her. Not entirely disinclined. I'm no good with knives. It's a whole bag of snakes that I'm not willing to open up. Lanky got it in the shoulder and I booked it.

Lesson learned? Not in the fucking slightest. I'm not dead yet, right?

What's that saying?

That which doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger?
And there was that bit in the Dark Knight that substituted "stranger". 
Bullshit. If it doesn't kill you it tends to hurt like a bitch.


I'm not dead yet right? Or if I am this is a hell of a weird hereafter.
I seem to still have all my bits attached.
Bringing me to the point of this post.
There may be some angry people following me.
Well I say people. I assume you know the sort of "people" I'm talking about. One or two bastards in cheap halloween masks. It seems that not everyone approves of my treatment of a certain would be antagonist.
I did leave him alive. I'm not a murderer.

Whether or not our mutual acquaintance in the suit did... well that's another question altogether isn't it?

They've been doing a pretty good job keeping up with me. That's a good trick. Think I'll have to ask them about it. They've been replacing the service centres along the highway here. Shouldn't be too much effort to find somewhere a little less public.

Don't stop me now

Should have known better. Did you really think I would just ignore something like that? Did you think you'd get away with it? Honestly, did you?
Miranda is dead. Frankly, I'm doing just fucking fine with that.
The problem is that someone trying to mess with me by using her email account is quite far from fine. That's just rude. More precisely, it's people fucking with me, which is something I really can't stand.

Now, the dumbass responsible? He's getting his just desserts at the moment.
He tried to run. But you don't get points for trying. He didn't run fast enough. Steel toes are good for kicking the shit out of someone. Might have been taller than me, but he's a scrawny little bastard. And that plastic mask of his wasn't worth shit.

What does this would-be antagonist have to show for his trouble?
Two hands worth of broken fingers, more bruises than I'd care to count, maybe a rib or two broken, and some missing teeth. Don't think done yet. He's still got thumbs. And the ability to walk. Those are a little harder and I figured I'd take a break before getting back to work.
Can't say I haven't been enjoying myself.
That'd be lying.