Revelation of the Dead

Hello,
I am Agent Wraith.

With the majority of the human populace still running around in religion-land, I feel the need to reiterate some of my views. (There have been meetings.  Scores of meetings.  We managed a successful teleconference with two United States! Simultaneously! A huge effort! Considering that the last successful broadcast went horribly awry, I'd say so. I can't blame Franklin. It was all me. I was stinkin' up the joint.)
I embrace that villainy. I am FREE to SPEAK my THOUGHTS.
THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE!
Ignore me, because I can be:

Annoying.
Confusing.
Or not.

Anywho, let me get down to business. I'll make it short and sweet.

EASTER!

HIDDEN SECRETS FROM THE FREE MASONS!

Beware.

The Apocalypse draws nigh.

(Image courtesy of The Zombie Reporting Center)

Gross. Zombie Jesus.

All Too Human

Lately, I've found myself on a precipice.
I have teetered the lofty edge of fate, staring at the cliffs of destiny below.
Ugh. Metaphors.
I can't use them properly.
I just sound like an aging hipster.
Because I am?

I have struggled with the emotions of my hosts before, reveling in their passion and hate, enjoying their anguish.
That's a cold evil thing to do really.
I need to empathize.. how else am I going to adequately convince you that the planet needs salvation?
That humans are the root-cause?

I dunno.

I can't keep griping.
It's gotten old.
Fast.

It seems like I feel the ghost slipping. Like the host is asserting its dominance.
And I don't like that.

It's time to return to basics.
Again.
I've become very busy lately.
It will be nice to get some things done.
So many projects just sitting there.

I'm going to stick with what I'm good at.
Being annoying and confusing.
It's not much of a schtick and so many others are so much better at it than me..
But, I have to work with what I have to work with.

I will remain to support villainy, from the shadows, as best I can. If you choose to disassociate with me for any reason, so be it.
I no longer hold humans or their derivatives to any standard, so do what you will.

I've got superlasers to avoid.
HA!

Defense

When the United States government comes knocking, it's best to not answer the door.

Take care of yourselves.

Agent Wraith

The Day of the Machete!

The following took place on April 14, 2011:

4:15 am

Henchman 22 stirs and discovers leak in level 23..
I am paged out of my slumber.
Yes, I said paged.
She assures me there is nothing to worry about and I should go about my normal routine, but I cannot.
I am restless with concern.

4:45 am

Rail car transportation inspected, stocked with essentials, and detailed. We are set to depart many times, then delayed by various Henchmen and their woes.
Note: Franklin cannot have more than one carry-on.
Who brings 5 suitcases in the middle of a flood?

4:59 am

First aftershock.
3.2
Not bad enough to do any damage, but just enough to let you know what it is.
And slightly increased flooding in level 23.
22 is still not rushing, trying to convince us there is nothing to worry over.

5:30 am

Departure from station, Henchmen in tow.
Another aftershock (lost count by this point) makes everything worse.
Transportation is quick, but fails to move fast enough. Tunnels destabilize and prevent return. 22 is struck by debris, complains, then returns to the calm composure we know so well. Even with a machete half in her guts.

5:52 am

Arrival at destination.  22 is rushed to the Infirmary, we all fear the worst.
The machete is making everything worse and as she is put on the gurney, the rail car pulls away.

5:56 am

Rail car explodes.
We barely escape alive.
Note: Do not allow Franklin to drive.

5:59 am

I arrive at the Infirmary to find 22 in shock, the machete on a table nearby, and the doctors telling her she's going to be fine. The machete is still, wiped clean of 22's blood, and quiet.  It is taken away and the room falls into a black pall.

6:30 am

After no word, ill or good, the machete is brought to 22. It reminds us of how frail we all once were.
She brandishes it strongly, vowing to never let anyone wrench it from her living hands.

7:00 am

On pain meds, 22 tells me that Los Sauces finally feels like home and she is comfortable with becoming its caretaker.  She understands the Meeting of Resolution (March 21) and nods silently.
I nod back as she falls asleep.

7:55 am

Henchman 22 stirs briefly.

9:01 am

A few of the Henchmen, including Franklin, bring 22 food.  She doesn't enjoy the food they have prepared and nearly kills them all.
The machete is almost lost amongst their bodies, until Franklin points it out.

9:20 am

Franklin completes the Henchmen clean up.  I take it upon myself to find something palatable for 22 and take one henchman with me. If I fail, at least I won't lose an entire team.

10:17 am

I return, food in hand.  Henchman 22 is pleased and no one else has to die.

10:52 am

Full, everyone falls asleep.

12:04 pm

Upon awakening, we find the machete is missing.
Henchman 22's rampage is soon evident.

2:08 pm

Several Henchmen are strangled, mangled, slaughtered, and crushed.  22 is distraught; suicidal.
Several more Henchmen meet their doom before her storm subsides.
The machete is brought to her, apologies are ignored, and messengers are killed.

3:00 pm

Lunch.
Cheese ravioli with a light sauce, steamed broccoli, crackers, and juice.
22 opts for a carbonated beverage against medical advice.
The Infirmary loses another staff member before she gets her soda.

4:00 pm

Franklin and I go for a walk away from the medical complex.
He tells me he is worried about 22 and how insane she has been acting lately.
I try to tell him that it's just the machete that makes her feel like that.
He worries some more, eats a coyote, and we head back.

6:00 pm

There is a 'general' alarm sounding, alerting the compound to another attack.
The USPS keeps trying to deliver official documents and the boys at the gate keep telling them to 'Get lost!'
I admire their tenacity, but paratroopers only make matter worse.
For a moment, we feared a War @ Los Sauces.
But, thanks to Franklin, 5, 00, 28, and 22, the tide turns and the gunfire ceases.

7:59 pm

I send Franklin to herd the rest of the Henchmen away and off to his quarters for the night.  He is tired and weary, a good night's sleep will refresh him.
22 remarks that he is progressing wonderfully for a mutilated zombie/corpse thing and we laugh.
It's been a long while since we've done that.

8:40 pm

Dinner.
I have to turn service away at the door (ravioli again?) and inform 22 dinner will be late.
It doesn't take long to find a replacement host or meal and I bring them both to her.
She enjoys the stuffed roast and mashed potatoes.
Enough she loosens her grip enough so I can breathe.
Note:  Resurrection and possession are not easy tasks.  One should never perform them on an empty stomach.

9:30 pm

Host body craves nicotine, so 22 and I watch the clouds cover the moon as I smoke.
We make plans to celebrate this auspicious and eventful day in the future.
I chuckle as I mash out the rest of a cigarette, comment on how this body won't even make it that far, and we head inside.

11:09 pm

Host body craves nicotine again, so I head back out.
Alone (save the laptop) and in the dark, I reach out to the world and see what's going on in villainy.
Same as usual.
Youngsters, amongst us, egotistical and flawed, dance from out of the woodwork in a big 'I'm-doing-this-for-the-thrill' and infecting various social sites with their drivel.
Seasoned veterans, up in arms about this-or-that, RLSH or RCMP, and giving tirades.
Note: Lord Malignance's social commentary 'One, Villain' in Better Lairs and Gardens was phenomenally better than mine.
I begin work on 'Day of the Machete' post.

12:06 am

The body I inhabit collapses from exhaustion at the lap top and I am dragged back to my quarters.
I am tossed unceremoniously through the doors and crash spectacularly onto the floor.














And then I die.

Metamorphosis

Things aren't always as they seem.

We know this.

The eyes can convince the mind many things.
The mind can convince the eyes anything.

Here's where we stand over at Los Sauces:
Franklin has destroyed the central air.
The temperature hasn't been below 80 for weeks.

I cannot begin to describe the smell.

LOS SAUCES: CLOSED FOR "AROMATIC" REASONS

I can hear the keys.
I can hear the proton packs charging.

I am Jack's-former-military indoctrination.

The things that stand between us now, is who's crazy enough to take it to the next level.

Become the next level.

MLOL

I remember saying I was the next step in human evolution.
I sound like I'm being vain.
Perhaps I should not follow the Gentleman's Guide to Villainy, When Dealing With Other Villains; Paragraph 3, Resolution of Grievances:

Name the place and we duel.

Yes, Steam Punk is ridiculous. I won't mind giant mechanoid suits of armor, though.
Should be easy.

Now follow along to the rhythm in this line: villains do these things for notoriety, the attention time.
The technology is easy, you see, A to B; a flip of the switch, Back From The Future it will be.
Nope.
Can't beatnik it up.
22 hates hippies.
Any kind of hippies.

22.
She tempers me.
If that makes any sense.  Probably why things are where they are now.
She keeps me under control and in control.
The most important part of the tribe.
Her recovery is tantamount to my existence.
My fetter.

Crap. I can't keep slipping up like this.
Typing something I'm sure is too much information, not editing it out of the post; not caring.

Make it so.

CHAOS!

I return to the shadows from whence I came.

I see my family.
They bid me take my place among them.
































boo.

Criminality, Public Addendum 4; Opinion Piece

When one is incarcerated, certain civil liberties are ignored.

(You may skip this next part, because it is simple chat.
Nothing to see here.  Move along to the NEXT SECTION!)

In Mexico, the Geneva Conventions are strained if not broken.
Because here, every day is war.
Ugly, ugly war.

And it doesn't end with the Postal Service.

One is not link savvy, so one will not cleverly craft hotlinked websited information for you to fill your noggins.
Oh no.
I don't care if you stay stupid.

Mexico, like many countries, is embroiled with wars.  From Drug Wars to Territory Wars.
Mexico is war.
The nation was created with it (read: Revolution).

(NEXT SECTION)
Incarceration is a deceptively easy route when dealing with criminals.  It however does not prove to be 100% effective, where now incarcerations have a surprisingly high repeat rate. (Or something like that.)
Those who have 'extended stays' are in a microcosm within a microcosm within a microcosm.
They are surrounded by others who may be released tomorrow, won't be released for 10 years, in for drunk and disorderly, in for murder, or any combination of those and more.
Cells within cells within cells.
Grouped together for survival from groups grouped together.
Repeat offenders.
Shankers.
Riot starters.
Murderers.
But basically everyone who broke a law.

Depending on where you end up, you can expect cruddy food, poor lodging, and vocal judgement from every spec of authority floating through the halls within halls.
You will wonder if there is a reason for all this.
Besides the law you broke, I mean. Like destiny or an omniscient plan.
(Not necessarily arcangel bearing, but I digress.)

These inmates (first timers included) are perceived the same: criminals.
Guilty before proven innocent.
(Especially in Mexico.)

They are treated the same.
I believe this is the only redeeming quality.
All inmates are equal.
All inmates are scum.

This stigma carries over into the 'free world' for some.
Being labeled (some justifiably so; Sex Offenders) and ostracized.
Judged and outcast.
Some of it very just (I don't want a murderer capable of legally purchasing a gun and I don't care if he can vote).

But there is an exception to every rule.
And.. well, this is the first time I've tried something like this.. but, I want to talk to you here, friends, about forgiveness.
Oh.
Sorry.
My Floridian was showing.

Not all former criminals (some current) deserve this treatment.

You should live your life on a case by case basis.
But don't let me tell you how to live.

I leave that to Master Legend.

Proselytizing

I am Jack's frustration.

I don't need to go into any in depth explanations.

I don't need to argue my opinions, thoughts, cares, beliefs, testimonies, or posts.

I don't generally need to edit them either.
Whether grammatically speaking or observationally.

I will not delete my posts.
All prior communique stands.
I will not remove my friends, my 'friends', my frienemies, nor my enemies, from any list generated or created by a third party or myself.
You may do that yourself at your discretion.

I am Agent Wraith.
You.. are not.

Read this carefully, each who gaze upon it.
I do not fit neatly into any package.
I do not fit neatly into any package.
I do not fit neatly into any package.

I am a creature of chaos.
I am a tortured soul.
I am confused, scared, angry, malicious, vindictive, hateful, happy, afraid, spiteful, depressed, obsessive, masochistic, joyful, and irritable as any of you humans.
I'm just no longer human.
I am not the only one who sees myself as such.
No, it's not the groupies.
Speaking of which, there are none.

(On this note, I would like to address something... I am most certainly NOT who you think I am. Sure, alot is said in jest, some true, some not. What? I'm not allowed to lie now? Yeah, like I have ever let a rule tell me what I absolutely cannot do. No.

I am not Poop Knife.
I am not Tothian.
I am not Master Legend.

With the exception of PK, they just aren't that creative.
Even I understand my videos are obnoxious and annoying.
I understand that what I do and say are seriously ignored.
It's not completely because they are a waste of around 5 minutes of your life.
It's because to most.. I'm completely harmless.

And I was enjoying PK's patrol logs and spotlights.
I have gone back for leftovers of Evil Supreme Pizza and found them just as tasty as the first time I took a bite.)

I have been honest with those who wish to associate with me.
Give or take a few fallacies, I've been pretty straightforward.

1. Humans are destroying the planet.
Not so much anything, save a statement, mostly true.
Sure, there are animals out there destroying the planet.
There's the widely destructive red kangaroo, for example.
Why, just last week Captain Australia was fighting them off in his backyard.

2. Humans are insufferable creatures and should be destroyed.
I see humans as the cause for the planet's suffering.
Should we all wish to stay here.. tough shit.
Unless there is a major cull of the human population, consumption will continue to exponentially increase.. and then there will be nothing left.
Anyone see Life After People?

3. Humans are a virus.
Yes, Agent Smith was right.
You humans are like a virus.
Consume, breed, spread.
Rinse and repeat.
Especially if the rinse involves maniacal scripture and swearing to a new life without sin.

4. Humans are dual creatures incapable of purity.
Where did this come from?
Oh right. No one pays attention.
If you are just joining us, I think calling yourself Metatron, Michael, Raphael, Uriel, Gabriel, or referring to yourself as an arcangel is just ludicrous.
Although, myself in mind, I can't say too much aside from my opinion.
Cause frankly I don't really give a shit.
I get on you because it gets a laugh (mostly groans) and I think you are being fuck-nutters.

5. Heroes are a dime a dozen. Villains have to prove their worth.
For every hero that quits, ten more rise up in his place. For every hero that is crushed, twenty more rush to fill the void. For every villain that steps forth from shadows, there is the entire heroic roster ready to smash his face in and have little to no qualms about blasting it in full public view on every forum they can get to.
For every villain, there are at least two more willing to bad-mouth, belittle, and berate that villain. Shame him into servitude into their own army and never be heard of except in off-hand in-jokes.

6. I'm not afraid of anything.
This is not 100%.
I have a fear of sharks.
In a swimming pool.
In Colorado.
It's a long story.
I do not fear most things. Having seen death so many times and experienced it even more, I eagerly await the opportunity to rest my burdens on the competent shoulders of my subordinates, who in turn will emerge as seasoned villains. They will know the previous enemies and their modus operandi. They will carry this legacy. Just as I have.
I fear not your 'identity currency'.
If you know who I am and wish to reveal it, I can't really stop you.
What I can stop is how much power it gives you.
Blackmail?
Please.
I have nothing you want.
Servitude?
Ha!
No one wants me in their ranks. I demand too much, regardless of the beatings.
Blast me. The day my identity is revealed is the day I become an even greater threat.
With nothing to lose, one will risk anything.
Even if I am a second-coming-of-the-Joker-wannabe, lack originality, skills, clout, capitol, manpower, and notoriety.. I possess my body one leg at a time just like the rest of.. well.. whoops.

Oh, you think you have my number, do you?
Give me a call.
Let's chat.

7. We have only just begun.
Say goodbye to the old Wraith, you won't be seeing him much.
He was tired of jokes and gags.. tired of hearing how you hated it.. tired of feeling unheard and trod upon.
You'll see him every now and then. Rearing his ugly head.
The next time you see me?
Who knows, it may be sans mask.

I guess it all depends on how far along all those people who swear they don't know my name get.. or have got..ten? Damnit. Now I'm questioning my spelling.
And I'm cussing.
Fuck.

I am Jack's unsatisfied-eternally-wandering-ghost.