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Phylum Moridoc's Journal
The Milk Run
Downtime
Why... Normal...
I'm bored.
I am soooo fucking bored.
It's easier now - to get people. The ones that fall into my trap - my squealing pigs - are so much easier to grab. And yet... it's not satisfying anymore. I used to find it vindicating; to take these bastards, so certain that nothing bad could ever happen to them that they actually agree to meet up with someone like me (seriously, I basically have a confession up on the internet. It's so obvious it's inadmissible in court) and thought it would end well, and make them suffer the consequences of that certainty. Show them that, at any moment of any day, they could have everything taken from them. It used to bring me... peace, I guess.
Not anymore.
I can do more now - I know I can do more. I talked to Sebastian about it: gave him a nice bonus. A raise. Let my finances recover so that he can have an ample resource pool.
We're going to do so much good work together, I think.
I need to find something better to do, god DAMN.
Who Done It?
Downtime
I Think I Have Covid
I think I might die.
Holy fuck.
My heart is racing. He almost killed me. He - he could have killed me.
Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck.
I think I'm falling apart - I don't understand what's happening to me, I'm hyperventilating and he almost killed me and yet.
And yet.
I hired some new people - some people to help me get away from my mischief, or at least the consequences of it. They're - they're amazing, frankly, I feel like a moth flying into a fucking campfire.
They don't treat me like I'm special - they treat me like any other person.
They treat me like meat, and it's intoxicating.
When I looked up into that dragon's mouth - when Madame (fuck, I'm thinking of her as Madame now, what is WRONG with me) called me pet over the phone - I almost fucking passed out just from the raw power of it. I need more of this. Not the dying - no, no, no I do NOT want to die - but to be around creatures whose respect I need to earn. Whose fear I need to earn. They are- they're beyond just money. They have what really matters: power. They have agendas, powerful personalities, motives! I need, need to learn from them. I need to get direction for them.
...
I kind of need them to step on me.
...
Fuck. I need a shower.
The Sons of Salem
We swear to secure our people against the wickedness and evil of the invisible world.
We swear to aid the afflicted.
We swear to stay ever vigilant and seek out the abominable witchcrafts committed in this country.
We humbly pray to be blessed by God to hold all those who consort with the Devil accountable. Amen
—Opening and closing prayer for Sons of Salem meetings.
The Sons of Salem is a loosely-organized conservative populist movement in the United States that preaches violent opposition to anything they perceive as witchcraft, demonic, or monstrous.
Blowhard podcaster Ted Gundy and former general of the mercenary group “Hognose,” Roland Rush, founded the movement in 2010 after a series of violent werewolf attacks and unexplained, supernatural murders in Tennessee. Memberships grew quickly, stoked by Ted’s fiery doomsday rhetoric on his podcast "Truth Seekers" and the aspiration of the masculine power embodied by Roland.
Although they speak of duty, honor, and maintaining the “natural order” of things, the Sons of Salem are driven by fear. They collect guns and appear at protests en-masse as a way of easing the all-consuming terror of their powerlessness. At the same time, they have conditioned themselves to respond to fear with “strength” (read: violence).