Lack of Updates

So maybe you're wondering why I haven't been posting much lately, despite being more or less back in action.  Or something.

Two reasons: one, we've been laying much lower than I had been last time, thus nothing really noteworthy has happened because we are oh so sneaky.  Or we're a really low priority or something.  Doesn't make a huge difference as far as I'm concerned.  Two, my own paranoia.  I've been very careful this time around, like I've said.  That means letting as little information that could POSSIBLY have negative consequences for me onto the internet as I can.  This means making every attempt to break my habit of spewing my feelings all over this blog and elsewhere online (though I'm finding it somewhat difficult at times), not even giving the tiniest hints as to our location or when we're on the move, not mentioning what supplies and weapons we have on us, the works.  I'm taking every precaution.  I take measures offline, too.  I specifically packed some of the more toned-down clothes in my wardrobe for this so I can blend into the crowd better.  As much as I'd like to look like a fantasy/action hero or something, it's not good for being incognito.  If I notice anything even a bit suspicious, I generally decide we should hightail it.  I usually use the term "skip town", so it's kinda become an in-joke among my companions and I that I react to every situation by skipping town.  It's kinda like an image macro meme.  "Homeless guy looks at you?  Skip town."  "Squirrel makes noises at you?  Skip town."  "Phone rings?  Skip town."

The sad part is, it's fairly accurate.  I'm of the opinion, however, that you can never be too paranoid.  Never.  Which is one of the reasons that I no longer really sleep, I just kinda collapse from exhaustion after a few days or so.  That, mixed with the insomnia and the dreams.  Fuck that shit.  Curtain and Servo really, really don't like that sleep schedule.  They worry about my health.  They shouldn't worry.  I can handle it.  I'm more concerned about their safety than my own, anyway.  They're in danger because of me, so if something bad happens to them it's because of me and I don't want anything bad to happen to them because of me because enough bad things have been my fault already and I just want to do what's right and not have anyone get hurt or anything but it's so much harder than I'd have ever expected because morality can be so damn gray and subjective and sometimes none of the options seem right and goddamn it these are emotions.

Still working on the hiding emotions thing.  Anyway.

Our main strategy right now is to basically ride this out until WhiteDress replaces me.  Which I hope is soon, because winter rapidly approaches.  Because running in winter could seriously suck.  Funny enough, back when I was on the run the first time I sometimes thought to myself "Look on the bright side!  At least it isn't winter!" because I am just AWESOME at tempting fate like that.  Of course, winter is somewhat good, too, because waterproof gear is super easy to find around now.  And waterproof gear is imperative for when it snows so I don't die while playing in said snow.  Because I fully intend to play in the snow, no matter how idiotic that may be.  The reasoning behind it is complicated and I don't feel like explaining it here and you likely wouldn't get it anyway.

I've also managed to get in contact with my grandfather.  Apparently he picked a fight with someone he shouldn't have, and now he's in a bind.  I can't elaborate for security reasons and also because that's all he told me.  I should point out that he is much, much worse than me when it comes to avoiding these types of situations.  I mainly end up here due to a lack of foresight.  He intentionally picks fights.  My trolling is nothing compared to his, and unlike him I almost never mean any harm by it.  Anyway, I'm gonna start ranting on how much of an asshole he is, so I'm gonna derail that train of thought.  We've agreed not to meet up since he knows some Theurgy and Mist Travel and whatnot and I went to enough goddamn effort to stop that from being able to track me down.  (I found that Null Stone using his "little black book" of quasi-legal contacts that he gave me, though, so I have to give the guy some credit.)  Unfortunately, he said he'll probably be out of contact for a while.  "Assuming I regain contact at all," he said.  Any news is better than no news, I guess.

I think that's all I have to say that I feel even remotely safe about posting.  Really, even this much is freaking me out a bit.  I figure I should let you guys know at least something instead of leaving you completely in the dark, though.  Until next time, I'm the Doctor.  Stay safe, folks.  ### </made-up-on-the-spot tag>

P.S.  Just found a sticky note folded up in my jacket pocket.  SERVOOOOOO!!!

If WhiteDress can do a fucking important blog post in the form of a rage comic, then I can do mine in a goofy manner, too.

SO RIGHT.  Yesterday I emailed WhiteSuit to ask how he felt about the Occupy Ames protest seeing as he's one of approximately three people I know in Ames.

I was just like:

And he responded like:

So, naturally, I was like:

And he was like:

(Whoops, I just made a heartwarming moment kinda terrifying.)
Anyway, I was like:

My memory of the confrontation itself later is kinda blurry and I don't really wanna talk about it anyway, so here's a summary of what I did:

Does that help you picture it?  Yeah, it was nothing like that, but if it helps.  The cornerstone of my actual strategy was the element of surprise - meaning, there's a reason that I told absolutely no one the fact that I've learned to Mist travel.  And since I did that to escape, I suppose one of my little secrets is out now and I have no reason not to tell you guys about it.  I've got plenty of other cards up my sleeve.
Anyway, so when I was finally in the clear I was like:

In case you hadn't noticed:

Anyway, then reality kinda sank in.  The reality that I am now on the run (again), with no foreseeable way to get out of it like last time, and that my dog and I, though alive, are in pretty rough shape already.  And I was like:

So.  That's pretty much it.  I'm laying low in a different town for the time being.  We'll see how things go from here.  Perhaps with more Doctor Who gifs, as they always cheer me up.

And speaking of Doctor Who gifs that cheer me up...

Until next time~!

LastLord

So.  Guessing you all heard.  I got re-Chosen.  Because I am clearly brilliant.  Mm-hm.

They're coming for me again.  Tonight.

I've got everything I need to go on the run packed.  I have for a long time.  Just in case.

I've got more weapons, more possible strategies, more physical ability, and a big dog.

My odds of surviving the night (and not ending up in a Commune) are far slimmer than they've ever been.  And that's saying something.  I recall MT saying once that being Chosen twice gets you direct contact with Tall, Pale and Faceless himself.  And...well, if that's true...I don't really think I can win.  I don't even think I can not lose completely.

So.  What am I gonna do?

Try my damnedest.  Never give up.  Keep running.  Bite, scratch, shoot, slice, and smack my way out of whatever comes at me, or try to.  Y'know.  Same old, same old.

I have several new tricks up my sleeve I've been keeping on the down-low.  They may come in handy, may not.  We'll see.

But.  No matter what happens.  If I go down, I'm gonna make it as difficult for them as I can.  And I expect you guys to keep calm and carry on if I do.  I'm trusting you to do so, okay?

This could easily be my last entry as a Rebel.  Of course, if somebody up there takes pity on me, maybe it won't.  But I kinda doubt that.  I'm the last of the Time Lords once again.

And...well, that's all I can think to say.  Should've written this in advance, just in case.  But it can't be helped now.  Not much that can be helped now.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got an awful lot of running to do.

WANGST TIEM

Disclaimer: This entry of my blog is going to be almost entirely whining about those silly things we refer to as emotions.  If you didn't like the fifth Harry Potter book, probably just skip this entry.  Because this will likely also be a novel, as there's a lot that I need to rant about and get off my chest.  I might tl;dr at the end if I feel like it.

You've been warned.

Apparently you're still reading, so here goes.  I seem to have forgotten the crushing boredom that comes with living a somewhat normal life in small-town Iowa.  Y'know, the reason I ended up at all those chat sessions in the first place.  Any reprieve from the endless gnawing ennui without being like the other kids and resorting to alcohol, sex and drugs seemed okay in my book.  And then I got Chosen and went on the run.  Now, I'm by no means saying that I ever, ever want to do that again, but you gotta realize that I was hopped up on extreme amounts of adrenalin nonstop for...two months-ish?  Yeah, back then what I wanted was reprieve from excitement.  And now, after all that, I'm finding it nearly impossible to readjust to my old life.  I don't connect as well with most of my old friends and classmates.  I can't seem to make myself care about school.  I can't seem to make myself care about much of anything, really.  I just feel...really out of place.  And, of course, there's the boredom.  It's crushing.  I barely managed it before I went on the run, now it's threatening to drive me completely batshit insane (instead of just somewhat batshit insane).  I CANNOT READJUST.

There have been a few escapes from the boredom of it all, though.  I got in a high speed car chase with a friend of mine a few weeks ago.  He was driving, hopped up on new cough medication and having just fallen in love.  (Newly lovestruck teens are absolutely hilarious.)  Also the cough medicine made his vision really really bad.  So when he saw one of our mutual friends waiting at a stoplight in her boyfriend's (race)car, he decided that the best idea would be to chase them.  Meanwhile, I'm clinging to my seat and the holy-shit-handle as we zoom around corners in residential neighborhoods at 90 mph.  Yeah, that was fun.  Also slightly terrifying, but I've been through much worse.  And then we drove into the woods, he got high off whipped cream and we went star-tipping.  Apparently those are things.  But being in the dark woods at night with only a friend who has just gotten high after initiating a car chase and does other illegal things for fun set off my horror movie senses pretty majorly, so we got the hell out of there.

Other than that, there hasn't been much interesting going on.  Homecoming's this week, I guess.  Been sewing an outfit for Spirit Day.  Found an old billy club at an antique shop.  It used to be black, but a lot of the paint's chipped off, especially on the handle and the business end.  It's obviously been used a lot.  The rawhide wrist strap is broken and retied in three or four places, too.  22 inches long from top to bottom.  It's really cool, except I keep really wanting an excuse to use it.  And violence is bad.  butgodisitfunsometimes

I've been swinging through phases pretty quickly, too.  Since I've changed so much over the summer, I guess that's my brain's way of  trying to figure out who the hell I am now and where I fall in the CIRCLE OF LIIIIIIFE?  I dunno, but I'm gonna be really, really brief here as I could write a book on this stuff as well.  I've gone from depressed suicidal existential nihilist (kicked my own ass a little to get myself out of that because goddamn am I dumb sometimes), promptly went full-on Killjoy (y'know, that group of characters that fights against something they can't possibly win against and they're fully aware of this, don't care and have decided to live forever by making one memorable last stand?  Yeah, goddamn am I dumb sometimes.), and seem to have finally regained my common sense.  I discovered that I actually have faith in humanity - pretty strong faith, no less - and these Wall Street protests are raising it to dizzying heights.  See?  Who needs Fluffy when we've got Anonymous?  People can take care of themselves on their own.  We're endlessly inventive, and everyone's got at least a little good and bad inside them.  If we can get more people to act on the good instead of the bad, we can do anything.  It's only been a few million years since we crawled out of the mud for the first time, and look how far we've come.

Anywho, I know I probably have a lot more to rant about, but I can't think of anything at the moment and I've probably already written way too much.  Been digging into my grandfather's past, should have that posted relatively soon, provided I don't procrastinate really badly like I usually do.  And with that, I bid you all a fond adieu.

tl;dr: Boredom isn't cool, car chases are cool, billy clubs are cool, going through phases rapidly can be cool or not cool depending on the phase, self-preservation is cool, my crazy IRA grandpa is cool...ish...oh, you'll see.

Okay, seriously, gotta wrap this up.  DOCTOR OUT!!!

P.S. - I suppose I should give you guys my email address if you want to contact me.  I can be reached at firestarterviii@gmail.com.  If you drop me a line, I'll be sure to get back to you.

HEY I HAVE A BLOG DON'T I?

"Felt the need to get out of town for the day, so I'll try to get a blog post up tonight or tomorrow. Theurgic bombs rule, by the way."

I posted that on my Twitter on Monday.  It is now Thursday.   Sorry about that, I was procrastinating.  I do that, in case you hadn't noticed.

So anyway.  First, I shall post a song that has lyrics that are relevant to my current situation because Nein seems to do it all the time.

Actually, this song fits for pretty much every situation (I made a case for To Kill a Mockingbird for a school project with it once), but it's a little more accurate here, I think.  Moving on.

So.  I decided that I didn't particularly want my Soul owned by anyone, let alone the being formerly known by Nein and I as Skinnybitch (though I use other names if I refer to him by a name at all anymore and she's probably calling him the Master by now...).  This created a problem, as said Lovecraftian beastie did, in fact, own my Soul.  Clearly there was only one way to fix this: by blowing things up.

Okay, not in the V for Vendetta sense.  But they're still called bombs, so I stand by my usage of words.

Anyway, Vadiir that guy that keeps changing his name SELLOUT MT gave me a bit of advice.  I'm not entirely sure how he worded it, but here's what I wrote down:

"1. Light bomb
2. Put on mask
3. KABLOOIE
4. ????
5. FREEEEEEEEEDDDDDOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM and also a schweet mask"

...yeah, he didn't word it like that.  But you get the idea.

I was gonna do it on Saturday, but we had to go up to Mankato, MN for school shopping and we didn't get back until about 9 PM.  (I got a beautifully hideous suit vest while I was there.  AND BRUCE CAMPBELL'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY~!!! <3)  So Gramps and I decided to put it off until Sunday.

So I sat around being antsy, unable to focus for long on much of anything (INCLUDING BRUCE'S BOOK!!!) and I couldn't sleep worth a damn (but that's nothing I'm unused to).  I got a phone call around 2:30 AM.  It was my Grandpa.  The following conversation ensued:

Me: *upon answering the phone* Yeah?

Him: You awake?

Me: No, I'm talking in my sleep.

Him: Watch your lip.

Me: You ask dumb questions, I give snarky answers.  I thought we'd covered this.

Him: And you wonder why you got Chosen.

Me: I think I've got it pretty much figured out.

Him: ANYWAY.  Since you're most definitely awake at this ungodly hour...

Me: I'M ALWAYS AWAKE AT THIS UNGODLY HOUR.  I go to sleep at like 3:30, man!

Him: And this is why I will call you every day at 5 AM until you're back to your school sleep schedule!  Now, may I get to the reason I called or not?

Me: Fine.  Shoot.

Him: I had a small realization a few minutes ago.

Me: Oh?

Him: It's technically Sunday.

Me: ...you magnificent bastard.

Him: Shall I be there with a Theurgic bomb in twenty minutes?

Me: See ya then.  Allons-y!

Him: Alright.  And stop quoting things so damned much. *hangs up*

About twenty minutes later, he showed up with a bomb and I met him, mask in hand.  I lit the bomb, said "Viva la Revolution, bitch" in what I hoped was a badass manner and then put my mask on as fast as possible and holy shit.

That's the best way I can describe it.  Holy shit.

I had to sit on the ground until everything would stop spinning.  For a while after it I felt pretty sick, but I was warned about that.  When I finally started to get a grip, I burst out laughing.  And then I couldn't stop for a really, really long time.  And every time I thought I was close to regaining my composure, another stronger burst would come through and I'd be gone again.  When I finally managed to stop, my grandpa shook his head and said, "You really have to stop rolling doobies."  And then I was gone again.

I haven't laughed that much in a looooooong time.

(Also, I don't smoke pot, nor have I ever.  Just clearing that up.  It was a joke.)

After he left I decided to just pull an all nighter because, hell, it was already getting to be morning.  Most of it was spent figuring out exactly how badass the mask makes me.  Yeah, it's true, stronger and faster and all that.  I soon had the idea that I could probably run up the side of a building and backflip off of it.

As it turns out, I was wrong.

After my vision stop blurring and I was able to breathe properly again, I figured I should probably call it a day--er, night.  And with a final glance at the rising sun, I headed back up the stairs and went to bed.

And right as I was nearly asleep, I got a call on my cell phone.  At precisely 5 AM.  Guess who from.

I sent it directly to voicemail, shut my phone off and went back to trying to sleep.

All in all, not a bad day.

On Monday (the day Nein and The Artist Formerly Known as The Artist Formerly Known as MT were supposed to have a Session), I went with my mum and sister to visit family in a little town about ten miles away and we stayed there for most of the day.  I spent the entire day in fidgety worry.  And I haven't heard from either of them since that last chat session on Friday.  Well, technically Saturday.  Of course, I haven't tried to initiate contact with either of them either, heh.  I wonder if/how they've changed...

Anywho, I think I've probably rambled enough.  Talk to you all later.  Hopefully.  This is Dr. Death Defying, signing off. *Star Spangled Banner plays*

Off the Run

Been a while since I've posted anything.  Figured I should let you guys know what's going on.

We went back home on my birthday.  Since I'm no longer being actively pursued, we decided to just stay home instead of going back on the run.  It's pretty nice, I'm never taking my bed or wifi or air conditioning for granted again.  My cat is...less than fond of Axel.  Understandably enough.  We're trying to condition Axel to not kill every cat he sees, though, so they have to be together every now and again.  They'll just have to suck it up.

Axel's training is going pretty well, too.  He's potty trained and he'll sit and lie down on command.  I'm also training him in case of an emergency, namely when to sic/when not to sic and who to sic/who not to sic.  He stays by my side without wandering off or going after every small animal he sees, too, which is good.  My cousin has a German shepherd puppy about the same age and they are now bestest buddies.  One of my friends adores German shepherds and is really jealous of my little part-German shepherd mutt.  She's also still pissed that we dropped her back off at home from my escapades in evading the Chosen, but she'll just have to suck it up, too.

Axel isn't the only one being trained.  I am slowly but surely becoming a badass.  First, let me elaborate on my grandfather's skills: he's great with hand-to-hand fighting, knives, certain types of guns (mostly old pistols and rifles), and that damned shillelagh.  Not so much with Theurgy.  See, he learned everything he knows from another of his war buddies who was also helping the other other guy not end up working for ol' Tall, Pale and Faceless.  (I'm really gonna have to tell you guys the whole story at some point, because explaining it like this is getting difficult.)  Well, anyway, this guy taught my grandpa some stuff and then got killed.  Grandpa didn't really care to learn any more after that.  Or, at least, he didn't find anyone to teach him.  Could be either.  Anywho, he's gonna teach me the Muggle fighting skills and find someone else to teach me Theurgy.  He's got connections, apparently.  Oh, and since I don't have a shillelagh he's gonna try and translate that fighting style to be used efficiently with a baseball bat because my current skills with said weapon amount to flailing around like an idiot with it and probably putting myself at more risk than if I was unarmed.  And yeah, I'm not bad with knives (aside from accidentally cutting myself all the time), but I got (un?)lucky that last time...gotta learn how to actually fight with them.  Also learning to fight effectively unarmed instead of running, flailing, scratching, kicking for the crotch, etc.

Two of my friends are in Taekwondo and they've agreed to start teaching me some of their moves.  Another of my friends practices parkour, same deal.  Yet another has decided to create a weaponized version of the glomp and teach it to me, despite the fact that she nearly kills me every time she gives me a NORMAL glomp.  Which is often.  I love my friends.

So...yeah.  I'm a Rebel and apparently a Threat because of my connections (a phrase which here means "ability to contact Vadiir and his willingness to help me out every now and again"), so I guess I should learn to fight like one.

...I hate fighting so much.  I really don't like violence in general, despite my sense of humor and my taste in movies.  But it's a fact of life, I guess...

...like how I've killed someone...

...I'm not a killer...just a kid in over her head...

And now I'm down again.  Gonna cut this entry off before I start angsting and wallowing in self-pity.  Not my thing.  I'll go make brownies and blast some loud, fast, rebellious music instead.  Ciao, folks.

Big Damn Heroes

They may say that there is no good and bad, no right or wrong, no heroes or villains.  Maybe that's true, maybe it isn't.  But I think last night counted as a Big Damn Heroes moment, no matter what we are.  Maybe just Big Damn Rebels.  But I digress.

For those of you who don't follow the chats (I'm guessing none, but just in case), I found my grandfather.  Or, rather, they did.  He was being held captive in a Commune.  Said they'd let him go if I joined them.  And I agonized over that for a looooong time, let me tell you.  I knew Grandpa would want me to leave him and continue my running.  I also knew I had a conscience and that if I ran he'd die horribly and be turned into a White Mask.  (I met one of those, by the way.  Didn't kill it because I had no Ash Williams-y weapons.)  If I get into all the details about my choices, though, I'll end up writing a novel.  And this is probably gonna be a really long post anyway.  I might detail everything in a future post, who knows.

Anyway, I tried thinking of a third option.  The only one I could come up with was a rescue attempt.  My only useful skills as of now are in dodging, running, escape, and generally not dying.  Not a great set for storming a place filled with people far more powerful than yourself who /will/ kill you if they can't make you join them, and doing it alone, no less.  So, that was pretty much out unless I was going for suicide.  And then ol' Tall, Pale and Faceless would get my Soul anyway.  So...yeah.  Pretty much out.

We had been talking about the Evil Dead series earlier, and I thought to myself, "Man, if only I had Ash with me, he'd kick all their asses with ease!"  But, unfortunately, I don't know anyone that badass because no one that badass exists.  (Sorry, everyone that exists.  You just aren't Ash Williams.)  So I asked Vadiir for advice on Formspring.  He offered to help me.  And, although he's no Ash Williams, he's a pretty epic badass.  So I made my mind up.  It was rescue mission time.  *puts on sunglasses*

Vadiir showed up and we headed to the Missouri Commune while Wilt laughed at us over in Limeyland.  Actually, I don't know if the chat ever figured out that I wasn't going it alone.  Probably better that they didn't.  But anyway.  We left Axel (my dog, in case you didn't know) tied to a pole and snuck up to the entrance as quiet as could be.  I was expecting a stealth mission; get in, grab Gramps, get out.  I seemed to have forgotten that this was Vadiir we were talking about.  He kicked the door down and charged inside.  I just grabbed Ziggy and followed him in, having no idea what else to do.  (Ziggy is my bowie knife, by the way.  Yes, it actually exists.)  The halls of the Commune were eerily quiet and empty as we charged through.  No one in sight but us, no sound but our footsteps.  This went on for a while (freaking me right the fuck out, might I add) until we turned a corner and nearly got shish-kebab'd.  Knives flying at us, lots of them.  I mostly dodged them all, getting away with a few scratches.  Vadiir dodged a few and parried the rest.  Yeah, as it turns out, HappyRobin (former Leader of the Missouri Commune and 4th Circle Theurge) is versed in Aertheurgy and uses it to throw knives at people.  Knives that she can control and make them turn corners and stuff.  And she had such a cute-sounding name, too.  How misleading.  We mostly countered this by hiding behind things for a while.  Vadiir told me he needed to get close to her, that he could take her down with ease if he could close in.  I then did something that will allow me to live up to, I think, all of my various names and titles.  I doubt anyone will ever question why they call me the Jester, the Fool, or anything referencing the Doctor - including LastLord - again.

The following exchange happened.

"Hey Vadiir, you know how I sometimes have brilliant ideas?"

"Sure?"

"...this isn't one of them.  Sorry!"

And then I leaped out from behind our cover, running and waving my arms around all while yelling, "LOOK AT ME I'M A TARGET!!!"

It may have been one of the dumbest things I've ever done, but - and here's the thing - it /worked/.  HappyRobin turned her attention (and her knives) to me.  I once more relied on all those skills I'd learned from playing dodgeball in school.  There's a reason I was always the last one "out".  No one could ever hit me, even when I was outnumbered ten to one and the other team had a ball each and all threw them at the same time.  Well, apparently it works with knives, too.  A few papercuts and one relatively deep gash on my shoulder, sure, but otherwise I was fine.  And, while she was distracted by the madman with a box nutcase with an apparent deathwish, Vadiir had enough time to get in close.  There was fire and the flash of metal and she was on the ground.  Dead.  Or, I'm pretty sure she was.  Vadiir...made sure anyway.  He really does enjoy stabbing things.  Yeah, that...wasn't exactly fun to watch.  Her removed her Soul, too, so she won't be Resurrected.  That part happened either before or after all hell broke loose, can't remember.  Yeah, after HR died, chaos ensued.  Chosen came out of fucking everywhere and nowhere, probably the whole damned Commune. My plan, as usual, was to...well, not die.  I was waving Ziggy about as I ran, mostly as a warning, because I really do know how to use it.  One of them caught up to me and I saw him pull his own knife.  Not even thinking, I yanked myself out of the way of it.  My arm snapped back and buried my own knife in his neck.  I was immediately covered in blood.  My face was covered, my shirt was covered, hell, my pants were nearly covered.  He staggered back and collapsed, blood still spraying out of his neck.  I was horrified.  No...that's not a strong enough word, but I really don't think one exists.  So I was horrified.  Still am.  You gotta remember, the most devastating act of violence I'd ever inflicted on anyone before this was probably that time I kicked Bodie in the shin hard enough to break his skin through his jeans.  (In my defense, he deserved it.  Bullies, eh?)  And I felt bad about that.  But this...I murdered someone.  Stabbed him in the throat and watched him bleed out.  It...I never wanted to kill anyone.  That would be to sink to their level.  Like Nietzsche said.  But...I...I guess in war, you just have to do things, even if they kill you a little inside.  Even if it means ending the life of someone who was maybe just like you at some point...but, no.  I digress.  Gotta stick to the story.

I stood there in shock for...I don't know how long.  I was shaken out of it by someone grabbing my hood and dragging me off towards a hallway.  Lucky for me it was Vadiir.  We ran down a flight of stairs at the end of the hall, dashed in the door at the bottom, and promptly shut and barricaded it.  Their basement was all stone walls and floor, cobwebs everywhere.  A dungeon of sorts.  And chained to the opposite wall was my grandfather.

"Looks like you made the stupid decision," he said with a smile.  "Atta girl."

I picked the locks pretty easily.  (I learned that skill because I once put a chain and padlock around my neck to be like Sid Vicious and promptly lost the key.  Yeah, I was dumb in middle school.)  When he was finally unhooked, he staggered a bit before returning to his usual cocky gait.  He grabbed his shillelagh leaning against the wall and gave Vadiir a wary look, apparently having just noticed him.

"It's alright Grandpa, that's just Vadiir.  Don't worry, he's cool.  He's on our side."

"Is he that English guy that was after you?" my grandfather replied warily.

"I'm not going to kill her," Vadiir shot back with an edge to his voice.

"Hey," I said, trying to stop the stupidity that appeared to be brewing.  "How about we save the distrust until after we get the hell out of here?!"

They seemed to agree on that being a good plan.  Vadiir opened the door and started stabbing and flamethrowing.  My grandfather waited for anyone that got past Vadiir.  I watched him kill several people with one whack of the shillelagh each.  He snapped necks and caved in skulls, mostly, but there was one unlucky sonofabitch that got hit full force in the Adam's apple.  He coughed up a bunch of blood and staggered until he hit the ground, still gagging.  I think he choked to death.  This went on until we three were the last ones standing, covered in blood.  We made our way outside the complex and blew it up for good measure.  No, we didn't walk slowly away from the explosion, not facing it.  Would've been awesome, but this isn't some action movie.  Not to my knowledge, anyway.

We found an abandoned farmhouse and stayed the night there.  We talked for a while, but Gramps was understandably pretty exhausted. (Actually, we all were, but Vadiir and I hadn't been captive for god-knows-how-long.)  He went to bed relatively early and Vadiir and I were left awake.  So he and I talked and stuff.  At some point I finally got around to making myself Immune as opposed to just carrying a vial of blood around.  We both went to bed at some point, but I didn't sleep much (if at all) and I kinda doubt he did, either.  When he left in the morning, Grandpa told him that he was alright.  For an Englishman.  He said it with a grin, though, that I'm pretty sure meant that he thought Vadiir was a pretty cool guy, English or no.  (My grandfather's a bit strange.  He's not nearly as stereotypically Irish Catholic as he acts.)  I never realized how much I'd miss those little faux racist comments.  I never realized how much I'd miss my grandpa, I guess.  He absolutely adores Axel, too.  And, while he was still talking with Vadiir and I, he finally told me a damn thing or two about his connection to all this.  Apparently he's a pretty good Alchemist (capitalized?  I dunno, probably) but not so great at Theurgy.  He's gonna teach me what he knows, though, since I can practice it without killing myself now.  Well, probably.  Heheh.  It also turns out one of his IRA pals was Chosen against his will a long time ago and my grandfather tried to help him out of it.  It...didn't work.  So...well, at least he has experience with this kind of situation.

He's gonna start teaching me some Theurgy tomorrow.  This is gonna be good.

Oh, and Nein?  HE IS PISSED AT YOU.  Just thought I'd let you know.