Welcome Back

I know. It's been over a month since I last checked in with you guys.

There's just... there's so much to tell. The things that have happened. The things I've seen... but I'll do my best.

After the events of my last post, when I saw Ophilim and Mad Ricky for the first time... ugh. Those two. I've never truly believed that such a thing as Evil actually existed. I thought I did. I thought that Evil was negligence, that it was mistakes that caused pain. No. I was wrong. I didn't truly believe, until I met them for the first time. Ophilim's complete lack of any empathy, any sympathy... any truly human emotion. And Mad Ricky just... how can such a creature possibly exist? How can it be called human?

But... I'm getting ahead of myself. For the next week after that post, things continued as normal. I went to work, I did I needed to do. Judas was quiet. The rash hasn't gotten any worse. Well, unless you count the itching. Still, it hasn't spread at all. I tried to keep track of the Timberwolves and this Mad Ricky character but they seemed to go into hiding.

And then, one night, I had guard duty at the hospital again.

The kid was almost healed up until he tried to bash his own head in. For all his apparent hatred of hospitals and distrust of doctors, he apparently was doing his best to keep himself inside.

Anyway, while I was on guard duty, his room exploded.

Me and the other guard were knocked forward, the blast sending us away from the room. It gets fuzzy then. I remember my face slamming against the opposite wall. I remember the dizzying pain... There was a blurred figure who danced across my vision. He said something about how "she" doesn't like barbecue, so it was a good thing I wasn't burnt. Then he skipped away, singing something about blogs.

That kid... he was scared. He didn't understand what he was facing. He was backed into a corner and driven over the edge, lashed out at anyone who might've helped him. He didn't need punishment, he needed help. He was an innocent, corrupted through no fault of his own.

And they killed him. They killed him just so they could scare me away.

I'd known, intellectually, that the Timberwolves needed to be stopped. I'd known that they were ruthless, that they were killers.

But this was the first time they'd ever made me angry.

I can still recall the sensation of Judas' laughter.