After last contract I really got fixated on the significance of the spiritual dimension of things and the implication of said dimension on my recentrly aquired form. The restless nights began soon after: whispers in the night, followed by vivid dreams of a shadowy forest. There, I encountered beings neither human nor beast, their skin marked with glowing, shifting patterns. They recognized me as kin, as a young of "a tribe older than the world".

As the nights passed, thin lines appeared on my chest, growing more intricate each day. These markings, a blend of arcane symbols and feral patterns, pulsed with life. They were more than mere tattoos; they were alive, reacting to my emotions and surroundings. I felt myself changing—my senses sharpened, my instincts heightened. But with this power came restless nights, visions of battles, and lurking shadows. The elders spoke of legends, warning of the thin line between man and monster, yet acknowledging the strength this power brings.

Last contract didn’t go exactly how I like ‘em. Don’t get me wrong, we got the job done, but there was a serious lack of what I consider a “fair” amount of bloodshed. Brekshire had us creeping through abandoned buildings, piecing together the past, and dealing with ghosts. Not enough bodies hitting the floor, if you ask me. And to make it worse, the people who really deserved to be brutalized—like that bastard Jack Thomas—were either dead already or long gone. I felt cheated, plain and simple.

So, these past 30 days? I spent them doing what I do best—training. I focused on my brawn and brawl skills, making sure that when the next fight comes, I’m ready to leave a few pools of red goo behind. Because, let’s face it, while finesse and investigative prowess are fine and all, sometimes the best way to solve a problem is to turn it into a bloody mess.

I’ve been working on fine-tuning my new power, Gascoigne's Blender. Let me tell you, it’s something to behold. When I let the beast out now, it’s not just claws and fangs anymore—it’s an entire arsenal of violence packed into every inch of my body. I’ve been putting myself through the paces, making sure every movement is a strike, every part of me a weapon. If there’s a next fight, I’m gonna turn it into an art form. A bloody, beautiful art form.

But this wasn’t just about blowing off steam, though I won’t lie—it helped. Training like this keeps me grounded, keeps me in control. And yeah, I know the future is likely going to need more finesse, more thinking, more investigating. I’m ready for that, too. But as long as I can still turn someone into a smear on the pavement when it’s called for, I’m good.

That said, not all of the downtime was spent training. I made sure to spend some well-deserved time with "the darlings." After all, these are the people who keep me sane and grounded in the middle of all the chaos. Whether it was grabbing a coffee with Rachel, talking shop with Carlos, or helping Nadia with her latest case, I made sure to really connect. This wasn’t just about the fight—this was about people. Solidifying the good relationships I’ve built, making sure the bonds that keep me going stay strong. It was people time, and damn, did I need it.

These 30 days were about balance. Whether the next contract needs brains or brawn, finesse or force, I’m ready. I can play the delicate game when I have to—but when it comes down to it, I know what I’m good at. And sometimes, making bodies is still the most valuable skill of all.

This downtime was all about refining and pushing limits. After the last contract, I realized my eldritch beast form still had untapped potential. So, I spent these 30 days training, developing new talents, and figuring out how to control the beast more effectively. Gascoigne’s Blender is a hell of a power, but I knew there was more lurking beneath the surface. It was time to dig deeper.

Every day, I put in the work, pushing my body and my mind to their limits. I trained my physical condition, making sure my strength and stamina were up to par. Last contract tested me, and while I came out on top, I knew I could be better. Perception was another focus—I needed to be sharper, quicker to spot danger before it even had a chance to strike. This form of mine isn’t just about brute force; it’s about honing every sense, making sure nothing gets past me when the beast takes over.

When I wasn’t training, I made sure to reconnect with Kanni. She’s putting together an apartment complex, and it looked like she could use some help. As a handyman and general contractor—if you pardon the pun—I figured it was a good opportunity to lend a hand. Working with her again was a good change of pace, and it reminded me that not every problem needs to be solved with claws and fangs. Sometimes, you just need to roll up your sleeves and get to work.

All in all, these 30 days were a solid mix of training and getting back to the basics. The beast is stronger, sharper, and more refined. My body’s in peak condition, and my senses are sharper than ever. And, on top of all that, I got to help a friend build something meaningful. Not a bad way to spend a month.

These past 30 days have been rough. Coming off that contract in the infinite parking lot, I was in bad shape—physically and mentally. The limp from my leg was worse than I expected, and I had to spend a lot of time just figuring out how to get around without looking like I was one step away from falling over. Not to mention the mental baggage. That place messed with me, deep. I can still feel the weight of it, even now.

Recovery wasn’t just about pushing through the pain, though. I had some help—thankfully, a few contractors stepped in. Between their support, some consumables, and a few favors I had to call in, I managed to pull myself back from the brink. I’m not all the way there yet, but I’m a hell of a lot better than I was when I crawled out of that parking lot nightmare.

It wasn’t easy, though. The physical wounds were one thing, but the mental stuff? That’s what takes time. The nightmares, the flashes of the people we couldn’t save—they hit me when I least expect it. I’ve been working on it, trying to put those ghosts to rest, but they don’t go quietly.

In the end, the cost was high. I had to burn through more resources than I wanted, and those favors aren’t gonna repay themselves. But that’s the price you pay in this line of work, right? You get hurt, you heal, you move on. And maybe next time, you come back just a little stronger, a little more prepared for the madness that’s bound to hit again.

For now, I’m focused on keeping steady, rebuilding myself. I’ll walk without a limp soon enough, and when I do, I’ll be ready to dive back in.

This time around, I didn’t just focus on the physical stuff. Sure, I worked on strengthening the power I’ve been developing, this Unyielding Flesh that keeps me patched up and ready for more. But I knew it wasn’t enough. My body’s tough, but if my mind doesn’t stay sharp, none of it matters.

So, I spent these 30 days digging into something I hadn’t focused on in a while—my mind. I started reading again, classics mostly. It felt strange at first, getting back into old books after so long, but there’s something grounding about it. You learn a lot from people who’ve been dead for centuries, their thoughts echoing through time. Stoicism, philosophy, all the stuff that teaches you how to handle life’s chaos and keep your head on straight.

I found myself paying more attention to things, little details I’d usually overlook. It’s easy to get wrapped up in the grind of contracts and power plays, but there’s more to it. I figured if I could sharpen my mind the way I’ve built my body, I’d be twice as effective. And in this line of work, you need every edge you can get.

So yeah, these past 30 days weren’t just about patching up wounds or getting stronger. I’ve been working on me, inside and out. Between the reading, the contemplation, and this new power taking root, I’m feeling more in control than ever.

After the last contract, I knew I had to tighten things up. First off, I worked on my precision and perception—getting sharper, seeing things before they happen. I also spent time improving my ability to retain source magic, learning to hold onto it longer, and, yeah, I focused on my charm and charisma, too. In this line of work, it’s not just about brawn. Being able to talk your way out—or into—situations is just as important.

Felix came to NYC for a few days so he could recover. The last contract did a number on both of us, but Felix took it especially hard. Hosting him was a good distraction, giving us both time to regroup, heal, and talk through what went down.

But the real thing I was missing? The darlings. It had been 90 long days without them—no real connection, just a few conversations here and there. That was tough. Getting back and spending time with my friends and girlfriends felt like coming up for air. I needed that. There’s still a lot I have to figure out, a lot of things that went wrong during those contracts, people who need to get what’s coming to them.

I’m not fully prepared yet for the battles ahead, but for now, I’m content. I’ve got people to lean on, and I’m happy with where I am—at least for now.

After that last contract, reality hit me hard. I know contractor life doesn’t last, and I’m probably gonna meet my end sooner than I’d like. The elders in my dreams keep telling me the same thing—none of us make it out forever. I’ve come to terms with that, but what really gets to me is leaving things unfinished, especially when it comes to the darlings. I need to know they’re gonna be alright without me.

That’s why I took the first step: Haven’s Hands. It’s been on my mind for a while now, a shelter for women who’ve been through hell and need a place to start over. But it’s not just about the shelter. It’s about Nadia.

Nadia’s a career social worker. I fell in love with her because of that fire she has—the passion, the competence. She’s got this way of connecting with people, of making them feel like they’re worth fighting for. I admire that, a lot. It’s not just about feelings with her—it’s about respect for the way she does her job, the way she handles herself. She knows what she’s doing, and she’s damn good at it.

So, when I built Haven’s Hands, I knew exactly who I was handing it to. It wasn’t just about love, though that’s a big part of it. I’m trusting her because I know she’s got the technical chops to run it, and the humanity to make it more than just a place—she’s going to make it a real refuge. When I gave it to her, I wasn’t just giving her a project—I was giving her a piece of my heart, my trust. I know she’s gonna turn it into something incredible.

Seeing her face when I told her? It made everything worth it. It’s not just about securing her future, or the darlings’ futures. It’s about seeing someone I love and admire getting the chance to make her own dream come true.

I know I won’t be around forever, but at least I can leave her with something real. Something that matters. And that feels right. It gives me peace knowing she’ll carry on, that she’ll be okay without me. I’ll miss her, but I can already see she’s got this.

After that desert contract, I needed some serious downtime. I spent the next 30 days resting and reconnecting with the darlings—each in their own way.

Amy? She’s all about keeping things lively, so we hit up a few salsa nights. I’m not exactly smooth on the dance floor, but she doesn’t mind. She’s got this infectious energy that makes everything fun, even when I’m tripping over my own feet. By the end of it, I might’ve actually picked up a few moves. She kept me laughing the whole time, which was exactly what I needed.

Then there’s Nadia. She’s been busy with Haven’s Hands, and I couldn’t be prouder of her. We managed to carve out time for a few quiet dinners, hitting up this little Italian place she loves. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s the kind of spot where we can just talk and enjoy each other’s company. A lot of our conversations were about the shelter—her passion for it, her plans. Seeing her so driven, so full of purpose, it’s moments like that that remind me why I trust her so much. We also spent a lot of time just walking through the city, soaking in the calm between the chaos.

Those 30 days gave me exactly what I needed—rest, connection, and a chance to remind myself of the things that matter most. They gave me the strength to keep going, no matter what’s next.

The last contract was light, all things considered, which gave me some time to focus on the basics. I spent the 30 days after tightening up my perception and staying sharp. The world’s not getting any safer, and I’ve learned that sometimes the smallest things can make the biggest difference. Whether it’s seeing something others miss or just staying on guard, I figured it couldn’t hurt to sure up my defenses and alertness.

Thing is, as you get more experienced, it gets tougher to keep improving. It’s like going to the gym—you can only lift so much before you hit a wall. The gains get smaller, and you’ve gotta work twice as hard for them. That’s where I’m at now. I’m more seasoned, sure, but every bit of growth feels slower, more intentional. It’s not a bad thing, just part of the process.

I focused on staying sharp, making sure I’m paying attention to the details. It’s not flashy, but in this line of work, those little details can be the difference between life and death. There wasn’t much excitement, just putting in the work to keep my edge.

It’s not easy anymore, but I’m still pushing.

Liv and I caught a bunch of hands on the last contract—literally. Fucking cannibals, man. We made it out alive, but let me tell you, that does not mean alive and well. The whole thing weighs heavy on my mind, and I’m more stressed and short-fused than I’ve been in a while. Just because my wounds heal fast doesn’t mean it hurts any less when you’ve got a punctured lung or you’re missing a finger or an eye. It’s all hell.

We took some well-deserved time off, patched ourselves up, and tried to get back to a mental state where regrouping and planning would be possible, maybe even welcomed. We lost that last contract, and it stings. So, yeah, it’s important to reflect on what went wrong. Liv and I both agree that if, by some miracle, we cross paths with Marie again, we’d like to take what’s left of her eyesight—with a sledgehammer, to the back of her head. Not exactly the healthiest thought, but we earned our anger.

That said, revenge isn’t on the cards right now. It’ll have to wait. For now, we’re focused on getting back on our feet. I think we’ll drive toward Boston once Liv’s feeling better. I’ll drop her off, and then I’ll get back to work and all the side projects I’ve got on the table. No time to dwell too long—there’s always something else on the horizon.