A Philosophical Discussion

New Jersey sucks. I was hoping that we'd at least end up having to question some MTV wannabe douches but most of our search thus far has been in the rural areas of the state, and people in rural areas are just too damn nice to get any enjoyment out of hurting.

Anyway, here's something interesting that happened today:

I was standing out on the porch of an old abandoned house out in the middle of nowhere, which we had claimed as a temporary base of operations. I was lost in thought-- what I was thinking about wasn't important-- when I suddenly became aware that Acedia was standing right behind me.

"Anything interesting happen?" I asked her.

"Not really," she said. "I was just wondering about something."

"Good for you."

"Did it hurt?"

"What?" I turned around to face her. She's a pale, skinny little thing, but not without her charms. I can almost see why Glorius is so enthralled by her. Almost.

"When you were... made into what you are. Did that hurt?" When I didn't answer, she continued: "For us it hurt. By the time it was over, we almost begging for death. Then we just heard these words in our head. 'Soon enough.' That was it. W-- I was so terrified of what would happen next, and yet some part of me-- some new, horrifying part of me-- was thrilled." She leaned against the wall of the house and looked me right in the eyes. "You're not like us, though. What was it like for you?"

"Relatively painless," I told her. "You're right. I'm not like you. Master didn't need to make any major alterations with me. I have just enough of His essence to hear His voice and feel His presence. I have His Mark on me, so I can walk the Path and enter the City, but otherwise I'm just a normal human."

"Why?"

"I guess it's because my purpose wasn't to be an exterminator, unlike you."

She was quiet for a moment. "So it doesn't bother you?" she finally asked. "That we're monsters?"

"A monster is an abnormality," I told her, turning my back to her. "It is unnatural. Do you know what is natural? The Grand Game. They play with human lives, and that is way it should be. Those humans who rebel against Them are the unnatural ones. And they go so far as to declare their own moral superiority for fighting against some perceived evil, even as they thoughtlessly kill people just like them, whose only 'crime' was to fall under Their sway. Even without Them, humans would still wage war and destroy everything in their path. The Game, in fact, limits human destruction. So in truth," I turned back around, and this time it was my turn to look her in the eyes, "we are not the monsters. The Runners, though? Abominations."

She smirked. She almost seemed amused. "That's a twisted way of looking at it."

I shrugged. "Everything is twisted. The world is a being of chaos operating under the pretense of order. The only constant is the Grand Game, and even that is constantly shifting. The Game is the only thing you can trust." I smiled. "And considering how you and your boytoy get off on killing, you really aren't in a position to lecture me on morality."

"Unlike some people I could name, we didn't choose this path."

I left there and went for a walk. I don't know why I even bother. Simpletons like her will never understand.

-STEWARD

Joisey

"Sleight" decided to ditch the rest of the magic act when they hopped on a plane. It wasn't until after I had already trailed the rest of the group to Tennessee that I discovered that my target had caught a flight to New Jersey.

So I've spent most of the day searching for him. It's actually pretty difficult, seeing as I don't have anything more specific than "New Jersey" to go on concerning his location. That's a lot of ground to cover, and I doubt he's staying still.

Anyway, if anyone happens to be in America's least favorite state and has noticed any serial killers with magic on the brain running around, feel free to tell me.

The Killer

Last night was certainly eventful.

We went to a magic show performed by a rather corny and over-dramatic illusionist calling himself the Magnificent Doctor Grant. What a stupid name. His tricks were all fairly basic and transparent illusions, though there was one interesting one where he walked through a wall.

But none of that is important.

I noticed that there was a man a few seats in front of us who kept glancing behind him and looking straight at me. Sure enough, he turned out to be a plant that the Magnificent Doctor Grant had in the audience. He got called up to do some ridiculous trick. I can't remember which. But I suspected that I had found my killer.

After the show, we kept a close eye on the theater, and saw the plant among the people who moved out and headed for a nearby hotel. At around one in the morning, we saw him sneak out of the hotel and head through the city. Naturally, we followed him.

It wasn't long before he saw us. Instead of running, he actually stopped and waited.

"You're him, aren't you?" He called out to me as I approached. "The one who calls himself Steward. I was told that you'd come for me."

"Told?" I asked. "Told by who?"

"I..." He seemed confused. "I don't know. Just... I don't know. Go away. I can't stop myself. JUST GO AWAY!"

"Can't stop yourself?" I asked. "Now what could you mean by that?"

"I feel... a need... I don't know! Go away!"

Sounded like the Compulsion in action. Interesting. It was directing him to kill. "It's alright," I called out, "I'm here to help free you. What's your name?"

"It's Jo-- Call me Sleight."

"Alright then, 'Sleight'. It's OK. I can help."

"NO! No, just go away! Please!" He spun around and ran. I cursed and ran after him, Glorius and Acedia right behind me.

A Door appeared, and Sleight ran through it. It vanished as it closed.

So he is welcomed within the City. That means that an Entity has put its Mark on him.

And if that truly was the Compulsion that led him to do those things... It seems that somebody has been playing a very careful game.

-STEWARD

Atlanta

Currently in Atlanta. It appears that Glorius decided to use my computer while I was out and about. He has been reprimanded. Severely.

It's quite a shame that he'd be so insubordinate. After I went through the trouble of buying us all tickets to a magic show too... Not that it matters, really. Most of what he told you about himself is a lie anyway.

So, Atlanta is a city and what the hell else do you expect me to tell you? City. Loud and full of concrete. Not much else. Even Southern drawls aren't that common here. Fucking cityfolk dumping a perfectly good accent...

-STEWARD

Hello

Hey everyone. Glorius here. You know, that Revenant that Steward likes to badmouth?

I'm here to set the record straight. We are not idiots and we are not "lovesick puppies". Ace, she's special to me. I've never known anyone quite like her. When I'm with her I can forget about everything that's wrong with the world and just be at peace. I can't explain. I'm not good with words. She just makes me forget all the bad things, you know?

And there are a lot of bad things in the world. Hell, I'm proof of that.

Me and Ace both lost our families in the WTC attack. That's when the Tall One took us and made us what we are. Unageing-- Unaging? I don't know. Un-Aging abominations. But that's how we met each other.

I like this life. I love this life. As long as I have Ace.

Don't worry about Steward. He's got a stick up his ass, yeah, but he's only human. Even if he wants to pretend otherwise. I've heard you sobbing to yourself in your sleep, Stew. Take my advice: You need to get laid.

To all you Runners: I'm sorry it had to be this way. You don't deserve what you've been through.

Anyway that's all I'm going to say. Steward will probably be pissed when he sees I made a post here. He'll probably do some extreme things. But as long as Ace is with me, I'm fine.

The Grand Game

It appears that some of you are having difficulty understanding how the Game works. Not that I blame you. Humans are arrogant creatures. As a species, we have difficulty accepting the idea that we are not the most important things in the world.

Many of you seem to believe that humanity can somehow win or lose the Grand Game. This is false. I have said it before and I shall say it again: victory and defeat are statuses that can only be awarded to the players. The pieces do not win. The pieces do not lose.

I was in error to use chess terminology before. Humans are more like the pieces of a checkers board. Not special or significant, merely tools, but a select few may prove more important to others, but in the end even they must be cast aside.

There are over six billion people alive in the world today. I doubt many of you can even comprehend such a huge number. How many do you suppose will be remembered five hundred years from now? Most likely you can count that number on your fingers.

The Entities play the Grand Game against one another, and we humans are merely the tools for that game. Zero, Zeke, Peter Rivers, even the self-styled sage Sweetrobin... none of you really matter in the end. You are just the pieces being moved by something far greater.

I have accepted this. Why can none of you?

Anyway, I'm going to Atlanta tomorrow and will be there for a few days, so toodles.

-STEWARD

Lead

Last night, I received a note, asking me to please come to some restaurant called "Steak n' Shake" this morning. The author claimed to have information relevant to me.

Needless to say, I went to the restaurant with a gun in my jacket (which was freakin' hell given how hot it is here) and a knife hidden in my person.

It wasn't hard to pick out who had contacted me. Weird guy with really wet black hair and vaguely blank expression who was staring right at me? Oh joy.

A Camper.

I seated myself across the booth from my friend. It was a corner booth, away from everyone else.

"This body," the Camper said, "its former owner liked this place very much. Even now this tongue finds the taste here quite pleasurable."

"Good for your tongue," I said. "What does the Ichor want from me?"

He smiled. It wasn't genuine. There was no warmth. No mirth. It was like someone had drawn a smile on his face. It existed without any real meaning. "Nowadays people are calling us the Epping AquaTarkus."

"That's nice. I think I'll stick with 'Ichor'. It's what Master calls you. It. All you hive mind tentacle thingies."

"We are quite partial to it. It forms a lovely acronym. 'EAT'. We were given the name by--"

"I'm well aware of the Adventures of Jordan Dooling." I waved my hand around. "You tend to stay out of the Game. Why the sudden interest in my investigation?"

"We have information. As the humans say: 'Quid Pro Quo', 'Tit for Tat', 'I scratch your back, you scratch mine.' We give you this, and then you owe us a favor."

"Would this favor involve consuming water, by any chance?"

"Water? No, of course not."

"Ink?"

The fake smile again. The Camper reached into his pocket and drew out a slip of paper. "Hello, Joseph Steward," he said. "This is a nice conversation. Your words--"

"Don't do that. Please."

He shrugged. It was a calculated gesture. The shrug of a bored actor half-assing his performance. "We were simply lightening the mood. Humor. Dark Humor. Making light of that which is serious." He put the paper on the table, along with three twenties. "Enjoy your food," he said. "Your meal is on me." With that, the Camper stood and left the restaurant.

I checked the paper. It was a flyer for a magic act. Something else had been written on it.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," I muttered.

A traveling magic act. No wonder the killings are all over the place.

-STEWARD