7/31/23, Passage of the Day:

Isaiah 41:15 - 'For I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, "Do not fear; I will help you."'

Just a quick few things I gotta update, shouldn't take too long.

Very kind of Eros to drop us off right back where my bike was, I wasn't feeling like trekking through the heat for a while or trying to flag a car down, especially with my new passenger. 

Speaking of, he seems lovely. Had a bad time of it, but the little help I managed to give seemed to be doing him some good. Still a little shaky, and clinging to me like he'd blow away in the wind, but I didn't mind none. The contact was nice.

It was the middle of the day when we arrived back, so I thought it good a time as any to head out. Didn't have a spare helmet, so I gave my new compatriot the one I had and let him ride behind me. He kept a hold the whole way, which was quite nice. He coulda just wanted stop dust getting in his eyes, but I like to imagine not.

After a good few hours, night was starting to fall and we holed up in a motel. Usually I'd have kept going, but Langston was nearly falling off the bike so I decided against it. The food there wasn't as nice as the hotel, but it was alright, made better by company.

He did attempt to keep a hold of me the whole night, which was no issue at all, only stopping when we went for breakfast in the morning. Had a good talk, and I like to think he feels even slightly better than the prior evening. 

After breakfast, it was right back to driving, quickly making time to get to where I needed to be. Langston stayed in the next hotel while I went to deal with business. 

Harrison Blake was the best, worst doctor I knew. He always reeked of death, and for every life he saved in town there were rumours he'd took two more in the dead of night. Experiments, slicing them up, stitching things inside. Sometimes human parts, sometimes not. And by the time they came back he'd have put them right back, good as new. 

He's a meddler in God's creation, and not one that anything holy would endorse. So I headed from the hotel, out and down the road till I found the place I'd been informed of. An abandoned hospital, with reports of strange noises and a penchant for disappearances. His MO. 

An hour later I was out, stinking of blood and dead flesh, taking a moment to let it all clean up before heading back to start our journey again.

It all burned easy enough, though I have a hunch this won't be the last I'll see of Harrison Blake. 

Billy Chance

8/23/23, Passage of the Day:

Isaiah 53:5 - 'But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed.'

Fitting that today I'd read of Christ, on the way to give penance to the healer of none but himself. 

Benjamin Nash was as good a man as water's good for firestarting. He was a snotnosed, pig of a man with half a blackened heart from the day he came back. Knew him when he breathed, and he wasn't much better. We'd kicked eachother around a little in our youth, but once he'd joined up with Franco he was always vying for power.

The coordinates I got ended up leading to a peeled-paint shack up in Pennsylvania, sequestered away in the dark where he was historically most comfortable.

News stories about missing bodies and upturned graves led me to believe he was robbing them for something, but the state of him when I found him wasn't much better than expected. Lumpy and covered with all manner of additional parts, growths and stinking of rot and burnt plastic. 

I knew he'd recognised me with the fear in his eyes. But he was a killer. A killer of children, at least one of which I'd known a while ago. And a robber, of the living and dead. By confession I got that he'd had his way with a number of folks a long time ago and of recent, so that sealed the deal. 

He was hard to put down, rough blubbery skin slipping through my grip, but when I felt that feeding fire sapping out of him it got easier and easier. I reckon the Lord smiled when he say Benny the Bulldozer's eyes roll back and his soul go straight down to perdition. 

Aside from that, I headed back up to New York to pick up Langston for a trip. Some botany convention a state over. He thought it was silly but I could tell he was excited. 

That man is...interesting. I'm loving seeing him, that's for sure.

Billy Chance 

9/2/23, Passage of the Day: 

'Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame.'

- Song of Songs 8:6

This verse is a favourite of mine, at least in aspects. And I think it's interesting to land on for today. 

I began talking to Dmitri, that sniper from the museum, and it turns out he's quite the lovely fella. Not in the way I see Jeremy, or Langston, but still lovely. Got a good head on his shoulders, and knowing he's at least comparable in age to me makes it pretty easy to reminisce. 

After talking to him a bit...and recovering the coordinates for Yelena Bazin, another of the Unburied, I thought visiting would be killing two birds with one stone.

Yelena was a strange one. Honestly I thought she was a step above the others, not as evil. More pragmatic, than cruel. I suppose that's why when I headed up I didn't come in guns blazing, so to speak. We chatted a bit, I learned what she'd been up to. What she'd done since she took it. 

And it turns out she regretted it. She was hard as iron, that woman, nearing her 650th year. That's old old. She wanted out, but with that inverted death still keeping her up, as well as my fire blazing she didn't have much that could keep her down.

So I took it, with her permission. Felt it move my bones, tighten my muscles. Yelena was a strong one, so with this, it made me feel good. Good for getting myself back, and helping her to rest. 

After that, I took my supplies up to Dmitri's house. Some cigarettes and cigars, stews, coffee, blankets, batteries, cakes, firewood and much more. A housewarming gift, literally in one case.

We shared some food and chatted long about war. About our time, and the irony of it all. The most interesting was an old figure in his life, though, an old flame. Or what could have been, more accurately.

One which I'm on the hunt for now, just to see whether it's possible to reunite them. It'll feel good to find someone I'm not intending to put down for a change.

Billy Chance

09/08/2023, Passage of the Day:

'You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another humbly in love.'

- Galatians 5:13

Freedom is a gift given from God to man by default. It is hard coded into the soul, or at least that is my belief. Some people want freedom for freedom's same. Some to not be abused, or collared, or degraded. This is the freedom all deserve. 

Tommy Morse wanted freedom. He was a man with a ticket in his hand that read DESTINATION: ANYWHERE BUT HERE. But, he got lumped in with Jack. And Jack was a man who could twist anything you wanted into something as dark and terrible as he was. Tommy Morse used to ride because he wanted to see what was in front of him. By the time I saw him, 30 years later, he was running from what was behind him. 

So he took her. He took my ticket, my beautiful Ambergris. Named her after the family cow, since they were both as gentle but stubborn as eachother. Ambergris was a piece of that fire of God, a steed to take me wherever I wanted. But she was taken from me. 

But when I heard the tales, saw the maps, connected the dots, I saw sightings and legends of a rider in the night that left lines of fire in his wake. A screwing, fire-headed devil at the wheel that was faster than anything you'd ever seen. That was my Ambergris alright, Piloted by Tommy Two-Time. 

Caught him by a side road. My eyes ain't so good but I can hear Ambergris coming from a mile away. I can hear her braying like a thunderstorm, and moving like a wildfire on wheels. That's my girl. 

Turning a corner but he didn't expect a hand out to grab him by the throat. No whiplash, not when he was on her back, but it stopped him something fierce. Next I knew we were on the ground, brawling, with him laughing like a maniac. Said the fire had starting hurting, said it had eaten up everything but his bones. He wanted it to stop, so I beat that burning skull of his 6 inches into the concrete. 

Once Ambergris saw it was me, she came right back. That fella had made her into a motorcycle which she didn't half mind. Seems like I found myself a permanent ride again. 

Billy Chance

10/2/2023, Passage of the Day:

'For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands.'

- 2 Corinthians 5:1

This passage is an important one, since it reminds me to keep peace with death. Keeps me knowing that despite my mission to remain undying to continue to serve the Lord, that when my loved ones are departed that they will have a home with Him in Heaven, and that they wait for me until my deed is done. 

There were few people I knew from back in my frontier days that I could converse with for long. In fact, there were three. Two important ones were Reuben, and Nancy. Both on opposite sides of the spectrum. Ricochet Reuben was originally an outlaw same as I, who partnered with me in my journey to become a proper lawman. One of the only men ever able to put a bullet in me.

Nine-Lives Nancy was officially looped in with Franco's Gang, but back in the day we were friends. I went straight, and she didn't was the issue. Got shot by my other friend after attempted betrayal, and came back to bite with that same death-defiance as all the wandering dead Franco kept around. Only she was a death defier in life too, so Nancy was even more of a trouble to deal with. 

Found her in Manhattan, trying out city life. Night life, to be exact. Met her, had a drink, exchanged a few choice words. She was...surprised that I was still around, though we shared that sentiment about eachother. Said that she originally got picked to take the aspect of the fire most potent, the rebirth, but Franco locked her in with a 'bad deal'. Wasn't even told the plot was against me, and put a bullet in the fella before anyone got to it. Trouble is Jack couldn't do the same for her, on account of that bulletproofing she managed to snag, stored in an amulet. Since it wasn't attuned to her particular body, it'd just been keeping her alive, but never really stuck.

She gave it back, surprisingly. Willingly. Then said she wanted one last fight. I didn't take that part of the fire until afterward. It was short, as our fights were before. Took two shots to the chest, one to the liver, and a few good kicks. But, she admitted this undeath had slowed her down. Once I got a clean hit on her leg, then her arm, dodging wasn't much of an option. It was a good fight, though, pushed my limits. 

Asked her to say hi to Ricochet for me, if she ended up in the same place. 

Billy Chance

10/21/2023, Passage of the Day:

'For you have been born again, not of perishable seed, but of imperishable, through the living and enduring word of God.'

- 1 Peter 1:23

Rebirth is...an interesting topic for me. Once upon a time, before my severing from the majority of my divine fire by that menace, it was commonplace.

Rebirth through the light and fire of God, to walk upon the Earth, untouched by Death, by His Will. Rebirth is something I am familiar with. Rebirth can be restorative. It can be transitional, but it is not stagnancy.

That brings us to today's topic. Last time, I did not receive coordinates to one of the Unburied. Instead...an instruction to return to what was given. Return to the everliving.

And so, I returned to the grave of Benny Nash. I thought my fire had left him...but upon my return I found him still breathing. He'd taken more than I thought, I realised. He had taken that fraction of rebirth that granted indifference to the needs of man. Food, water, time. And he was suffering for it. I put him out of his misery, of course, but it was a reminder to always finish what I started.

On lighter news, I began my renovations to the mall. I began with residence for me, Jeremy and Langston, as well as a room for Dorris Green. I approached them in their home, or at least where they'd been staying, and there was a sadness there. But...hope, as well. We'd got it sorted out, and now he stays there, in a place alive. For rebirth. 

I was also approached by a familiar face. An alchemist, Yoctaalthu, and his companion Ingvar. Glad at my return, and wanting for my feathers. It was hard to manifest them, but I granted them access as long as they helped my new friend Dorris with a problem of their own. Their transformation, their rebirth, into a human. I'm so very proud of them, so very proud. 

It was spectacular, a lot of fun, and they were good hosts. Though on that topic, I must reveal that I found the source of those quakes!

It appears consuming intruders was upsetting to Marlin (the mall)'s stomach, and so those quakes were him...dealing with that. I did make a small loan to the local sewer maintainence team, for their discretion, to deal with any future increased uptake. Though I have asked him nicely not to eat anyone else.

Billy Chance

18/11/2023, Passage of the Day:

'If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.'

- 1 Corinthians 6:9-10

Sin is a topic I am asked qborh a lot. Sin is a big word, a word with magnitude for the faithful. It implies an inherent and practised evil, an ever-present threat to all that is good and holy. 

Some have varying views on what is sinful, and what is not, though I will give my piece on it. Sin is the capacity of thinking things to act against eachother, through hatred, greed, manipulation, and wanton wrath, and cause harm, which thus harms and disappoints God. At least in my opinion. 

If a thing causes no harm, is not the catalyst for harm or even actively destroys a system which allows more suffering to occur, it is not sinful. Period. Whether it be done by the most otherwise righteous, or the claimed righteous, it is sin nonetheless. 

That brings me to Hermannus, the Silent. A man of great age, much moreso than I, who fought in the crusades. A claimed holy war, to retake the Promised Land from control by others, particularly Muslims. I do not agree with this, in any capacity. The innocent lives lost, the destruction and the strife it caused.

But, all that shows is difference of opinion. Hermannus was a man who burned sin out at the very root. And he was a literalist, if I may say so. To him, the Bible was a direct look into the words of God, and anything opposing that should not exist. 

He had taken the role of an American solider in Iraq, fighting the next holy war against terror, against the threat in the east he still saw. It was a long ride, and despite my heritage, all this ongoing war did was make me feel ill. To see what my country became. Or more accurately, what I realised it was.

I felt no patriotism when I burst through a door and found Hermannus about the burn the life out of a family of civilians. And even less so when we fought. He was strong. Not as strong as Nancy, but...strong. He tried to use his power on me. My power. The power to rend your soul with guilt, and sin. 

But my mission is righteous, and my mind is clear. His heated hands did not burn me, and were broken by mine. There was no gentle goodnight, like Nancy Knowles. He heard God's voice in the crack of his neck, but he saw the Devil when it all went dark.

Billy Chance 

12/14/2023, Passage of the Day:

'For the wage of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.'

- Romans 6:23

This particular verse is a rather relevant one for today, as I had to deliver such a cheque myself. 

The fire inside me has been regained through great effort...and I had narrowed it to three. Three undead, and two flames. 

One of which I saught after. Seigfred Schmidt. A nazi officer, and a newer addition to the Unburied while I was serving my time battling deep into German lines during the Second World War. A special team, plucked from basic infantry, to enter the fold and take out one leader.

I was not prepared for his plan. He designed the ritual, and carried it out himself. Jack and his gang, and the others he'd picked out along the way, all gifted a facsimile of true life, pulled from my form with unholy magic. The Reich had an interest in the occult, I was made aware.

Seigfred gained one of my most potent offensive abilities, without it's partner. The destruction of the truly sinful, without a way to determine what they have done. A gun without a sight, and one which could do a lot of damage. 

He was one of the hardest to find, and one of the most infuriating. He was living...well. Alongside the descendants of the officers he'd escaped with, in South America. Right at the bottom, I traced him to, returning from a cruise. He made an effort to stay on the water to avoid my justice, but he had to come to shore someday.

I caught him on the transfer. Swept him up in a crack of lightning on the back of Ambergris. At first he laughed. Next, he fired, though the bullets bounced off. Third, he tried to burn me. He burned himself out, almost, razing the surrounding trees in explosion after explosion. But that fire was mine. It was the Lord's, and it could not touch me. 

As with all of them, he went down slowly. But, unlike all of them, I made it that way. I tied him to the back of Ambergris and told her to go fast. Wore him away under 200 miles of concrete with trails burning away that stagnant blood.

And from those troves came my fire. A spiky, angry piece, that fitted well with the judgement I had gained from Hermannus. The pair was complete again. 

And one remained. 

Jack Franco. 

Billy Chance

Passage of the Day: 'Truly my soul finds rest in God; my salvation comes from him.' - Psalm 62:1

After regaining my lost pieces, and having my spiritual, heavenly encounter, I have given much thought to the ways of my heart, and how I must act moving forward.

For a long time, my goal has been vengeance. Vengeance and wrath upon the sinner, upon the unmakers of His creation, and those who would harm His children. My anger burned red hot, keeping me forward and ready, pointed like truest compass towards my hated foe. 

But, hate is not what should feed a man, I have thought on that now. Salvation. Redemption. Love. Love for my fellows, and hope that they may achieve what is justly their deliverance. 

Planting my boots in a mud of hate, and loss has only had me stuck for so many years. The wildfire winds of my stolen flame are gone, so I need not seek shelter in that cold, bitter mud any longer.

And I must not cling so strongly to the Good Book, neither, for in my studies time and time again there have laid things despicable. It would kill my Momma, but I have grown to find my faith in others, and through the love and care I find within myself and my companions do I find proof of the work of God.

I must drive myself with hope. And kindness, moreso than ever before. I must not think myself mighty. I am a man. And I am his striking hand as I am his open palm.