I woke up in our makeshift medical room this afternoon, Brother. Woke up with a Heart-crushing headache and found myself, much to my surprise, strapped to the bed.
Monica had been sitting across the room, reading a newspaper, when she noticed me stirring, and she had come quickly to my side. She had elected to watch over me while I had been unconscious, knowing I'd want an explanation for my predicament when I recovered. After she twice recapped how I had ended up restrained in our sick area, I still didn't understand what had happened. And I still fucking don't.
You're not going to believe this, Grimith, but it's January-the-fuck-28 today. January 28! Nearly a month into the new decade, over a year since you started the Liberal Crime Squad. And I don't remember a damn bit of that time. I don't remember January; I don't remember December; fuck, I don't even remember the government-supported "Thanksgiving," just another bullshit holiday advocated by The Man. They say the holiday's for coming together, remembering the Pilgrims and Native Americans, and celebrating that for which we are thankful. Bullshit, right, Comrade? Just a bunch of bullshit fed to us by the Corporate Machine so we'll spend extravagantly on decorations and costumes and special high-class foods just to give those soulless bastards in D.C. an extra digit in their bank accounts. I shouldn't be upset that I fucking missed it, should be excited, but I'm a little disconcerted that I can't remember any damn thing that's happened for nearly three months.
Come the hell to think of it, when Monica asked me what day I had thought it was, I told her November 2. November 2! Didn't you think that's what day it was? We had just finished tearing a new hole in the Arch-Conservative Government, which had previously informed the media of our demise after their raid on our safehouse... and... well, fuck, I just thought of this: We're back in the same safehouse. Which doesn't look any different at all. Not even after... hell, nearly three months?
Jesus. Three months...
Oh! Do forgive me, Brother. You know I wasn't referring to you. I wouldn't use your Conservative name in your confidence, and, even if I did, I certainly wouldn't use it in vain. I'm just... overwhelmed right now, you understand? I'm not sure what happened to me, and the others aren't either. When I saw them again earlier, after Monica released me, there were mixed emotions all combining to form a Liberal heap of awkward. Matters certainly weren't helped when I asked about Cesar and was told, quite bluntly by Kathy, that Cesar was dead, and that the Conservatives had claimed his body.
As if it had been my fault.
I didn't know how to react.
Introducing me to Halceon certainly didn't help my confusion. After Cesar died, I recruited Halceon to replace him in the Dozen Liberal Legion. He hadn't been a member of the LCS for two weeks, so he didn't know any of us very well. Sad to say, I didn't know him at all.
What happened to me, Grimith? Why did I lose the time, the memory? Why did I act as I did in the history my comrades explained to me, when they informed me of events since the darkness began? How did I forget those moments, lose control? And why can I read subtle accusation in Kathy's eyes every time she looks at me? Would it be so much for me to know the answers, Brother? Could you spare some time to enlighten your dear friend? Was this punishment for wanting to understand the Conservatives more, a lesson that I should not pursue such Wisdom? I am sorry, Brother. I meant no harm; you know this to be true. I just...
...I just don't know anymore.
*Forlorn Sigh*I reckon I'll get to recounting their recollection of the past few months. Maybe, by going through the motions, by retracing the steps, I'll recall what happened to me... and maybe gain deeper understanding as to why it did.
So, let's begin:
On November 2, the first day of my fugue, I carted most of the LCS' inventory to Hope's Pawnshop. Because of the Nightmare in which we lived, I don't think the pawnmaster would have been suspicious over the types of goods, just their quanity. And, considering how great the quanity of the equipment had been, he must have known I was part of the Liberal Crime Squad.
Since I brought home $47,750, I presume he didn't care.
For some time afterwards, I apparenly insisted on performing credit card fraud. None of the others knew why, but, when they asked me, I told them that money was no sure thing in this world; it could all evaporate in a flash, and I needed to make sure I could handle every situation. As I had been their leader for so long, both competent and full-of-Heart, they didn't challenge my opinion on the matter. Besides, Cesar was still badly wounded, and such time gave the others an opportunity to tend to his wounds.
After twenty days, when Cesar's wounds had mostly healed, I organized
Revenge and set us to raiding from the Croft Apartments, as I had done with the Mutant Liberation Squad while you were still alive. According to memory, I had wanted to continue to increase our money stores along with giving my recruits additional exposure to the outside world, particularly in stealth and subterfuge. There may come a day, after all, when I die, as you did, and one of them will need to be prepared to take my place.
The notion of stealth ended when we encountered our first Conservative in the building, a nurse. Hearkening back to your spontaneous violent days, I apparently ordered a barefisted attack upon her, and we quickly bludgeoned her to death. The alarm, however, had been raised, and the others advised we beat a retreat for the rest of the day.
I, naturally, refused such an easy course of action and insisted we wait for the Death Sq--no, excuse me, the SWAT Teams conveniently-not-dressed-as-DS-Officers, to arrive.
"Where is your God now!?" I had shouted violently after our victory.
Police units had foolishly pursued us from the site. We took no prisoners.
The day after, continuing my peculiar behavior, I insisted all of
Revenge ride with me to Hope's Pawnshop, where we proceeded to sell our Liberally acquired loot. $5,900 and, I presume, a pleased pawnmaster later, I had informed my comrades that they needed to continue to increase the economic power of the Liberal Crime Squad. The Corporate Machine ran on money, after all, and, by collecting so much of it, we would be better able to fight them on their own terms.
With that goal in mind, I gave my squad orders to, and I cite verbatim,
bake and sell special adult brownies that open magical shimmering doorways to the admantium pits.
Yeah, I know:
What the fuck!?
And, although I'm not entirely sure how Hugo managed to sell brownies in spite of his tongue deficit, the others informed me the police had been quite interested in acquiring him. So much for that idea.
By the end of the month, after I had painstakingly crafted a Monthly Action Report to show the others, I informed them that there was great profit to be had in baked goods. So they were ordered to continue doing such.
During this time, I compiled a Liberal survey of public opinion; I still have the printout in my room, covered with notes. Opinions on the issues were exceedingly Liberal, but public interest had fallen mu--what's this?
*Rustling, Shifting*
...Audiolog: December 19, 2009? I didn't know I had recorded anythi--well, of course I didn't, since I don't remember a damn thing. Well, let's see what I said.
*Click*The Dozen Liberal Legion has been too quiet, too complacent. For too long have I had them acquiring funds, spending their time on the streets to build the warchest with which to assault fully the Arch-Conservative bastards. Sure, we're in the hearts of the masses, but we aren't in their brains, hammering and pulsing and driving and beating every single hour of the day. They care, but they aren't motivated! And that's on me. How foolish I have become. Well, this I swear: Such matters will no longer come to pass. For, after I have seen this article, and similar articles in all of America's newspapers, I know how important it is to keep ourselves the focus of the masses. We won't be overcome, not by this story or any other.
We will prevail.
Pariah, Audiolog: END.*Click*Well, that explains what happened next:
Pariah? Really? Not only did I blackout, but I created a codename for myself...
...a codename to symbolize, what? That my physical appearance created an artifical rift between myself and the rest of the world?
What is my subconscious: a disillusioned teenager?
Is it only now, after so many years of repressing immature attitudes, do they bubble to the surface when I'm in a position of power to act upon said attitudes?
Isn't that absurd?
Yet what other explanation do I have?
The pressure of leading the Liberal Crime Squad must have sent my Heart into overdrive. I couldn't compensate, so I...
...I created a separate personality?
With the taste of violent success in my mouth, I must have been reluctant to let go. Yet the others had persuaded me to give them a reprieve, an opportunity to heal their wounds and prepare for the next assault.
I... Pariah?... no, still I, Kurt Ross, despite my inability to remember, ordered
Revenge to the Oil Refinery on New Year's Eve after a disturbing report regarding a blazing inferno atop the Ohio River. Seeking to punish local polluters, I let the group in what I can only classify as an orgy of destruction through the entire building.
I heard SWAT didn't approve of my actions. I also heard I didn't give a fuck.
Unfortunately, wounds sustained by Cesar forced an early retreat before we could clear out the entire factory or make more DS Officers-in-Disguise pay for their insolence. When a police squad came in pursuit of us, however, I ordered the squad to stop and return fire.
But the Arch-Conservative bastards weren't completely brain-dead. Though we eventually killed them all, they managed to score several more hits on Cesar, riddling his body full of bullets and ending his life.
Video footage illustrates I didn't handle Cesar's loss very well.
As much as we loathed the Conservative Scum, we had previously never beaten an automaton we had taken hostage.
A year to the day you founded the Liberal Crime Squad, I changed that. The automaton knew pain.
And it was good.
Unfortunately...
...Evil had quickly discovered the automaton's disappearance before we could install him as a Sleeper. In a familiar predicament, we chose to act the same as before: Release the Conservative of his bindings and allow him to return home. Not even my altered persona would advocate murdering him in cold blood.
While we waited for McAllister to escape and report all of what happened to the government, I, from what the others told me, set out into Palm Park to locate Cesar' replacement. That's when I had found Halceon, a former author whose livelihood had been ruined last year by the Firemen. Since then, he had been living off of handouts and gifts from his friends. But he didn't want to live like that anymore. I had identified with him, and I, admittedly, still do. After I had explained the situation of the LCS to him, and he joined regardless, I armed him with a M16 and told him to prepare for the inevitable invasion.
"Couldn't we run?" he had asked me.
"You really wanna run, kid?" I had retorted.
I guess the fuck not.
Halceon hadn't escaped unscathed, but he certainly survived as had all the other eleven members of the Dozen Liberal Legion. Rachelle hadn't been a part of the defense; apparently, for as bloodthirsty as my persona had been, I realized all the LCS could fall apart if the siege went awry and sent her away to Vance Health Insurance. Fortunately, she had not been needed to rebuild the Cause from scratch, as I had needed to do upon your death, Brother.
However, her services were useful in a different fashion.
As we settled into our new-but-really-old home, crushing the bugs and wiretaps the Conservatives had planted in the event we'd return, I had told Rachelle to organize a grand event of sorts: a bonfire, really, to light as a taunt to Conservatism. When they made their next raid on the Croft Apartments, we would have ourselves a fine barbeque as a big fuck you to the Corporate Machine. Until that day arrived, however, I had opened the warchest and put forth an influx of cash to each member of the LCS, and we spent our days instructing and learning from one another in the various ways of life since we had joined the Cause.
But an unexpected event occurred when the police raided the Croft Apartments; this time, from my understanding, they hadn't known we left, so they were absolutely furious they had missed entrapping us within the complex. However, much to the dismay of the others, we had forgotten about Cesar's body; it had been kept within a sealed bag located in our makeshift deep freeze, and, in the struggle, it had been left behind... to turn into another Conservative media windfall. They would say Cesar had been one of them, a good man attempting to gather information on the Liberal Crime Squad to end our revolution, and that he had been brutally executed by us, left behind as a memento to the government to never try such trickery again. They knew how to spin it. They always did. The fuckers. The murderous fuckers.
...The anger. The raw rage. The passion of fury. I understand that now. I understand why they were so shocked and surprised by my visage this morning, when I had ordered the others to gather together what Rachelle had purchased and burn it all in the name of Elite Liberal Justice.
Two hundred twenty-four flags were fed to the flames this morning, but that's not all that had happened. With the torching of each flag, with the rise of each puff of smoke into the morning sky, I became more incensed, more infuriated, screaming about the bastards, the heartless bastards, how they ruined everything, how they ripped apart so many lives, how they twisted and wheedled and corrupted all others with their caustic, corrosive touch! I hated them. Hated them more than you did, Brother. Seethed and screamed and clawed, fuck, I clawed at my own arms, loathed them with all my passion. The others tried to calm me down, but they couldn't; fuck, I had slugged Kathy square cross the jaw, I remember, no wonder she was so upset! And then... they sedated me... and...
...those, those
ruinous bastards! They took everything! My parents, my friends, my school life, my wife, my future, my fucking future, Grimith! They took it all! And they took my happiness, ground me into the pavement, just a boot stomping onto my face again and again, ad infinitum, never ceasing, always beating, hammering into my skull, it never stopped, it never fucking stopped, and then, when I felt on the edge of the rope, the end of the line, you found me, and you gave me a hand, Lady Liberalism guided us to one another, and I didn't want to believe what you were doing was best, not the senseless rage, the violence, the murder, but I began to see that it was correct, so correct, that you were doing it all right, and then they took you from me, cut you down, snuffed your life, and I was alone, so alone, and I had to do it all over, had to rebuild from scratch, no one else had the guts, the balls, the gumption to follow your dream, but I sure fucking did, and how much progress have we really made, it's been over a year since you started, yet no matter how many people we persuade,
those fucking bastards are still in control, still lording, still with their power, and they fear, oh fuck, yes, of course they fear, and they're such damn fools, but aren't they entitled to be, don't they control everything, what the fuck are we supposed to do, WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO, how can I stop this, how can I stop them, end the Nightmare, give the people their dreams back, how can I...
...
I remember.
Pariah, Audiolog: END.
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Topic: Let's Get On With It - Liberal Crime Squad: A Let's Play Adventure (COMPLETED) (Read 110030 times)