Eraser

So, I know I promised you all a story... and so I'll give you a story. Get your popcorn, soda, whatever else you need to enjoy a nice campfire tale.

Jason Boross. Secondary Head Archivist for the asylum. He's got everyone's file in a laptop he so geniusly carries with him everywhere. Caught him in a parking lot, hopped in the back of his car, stuck there until he got home. While I was lifting up the trunk to get out, I heard him talking on his phone. Dumbass had his back to me. He opened his door, forgot to close it... I guess he was preoccupied with his phone and his laptop, because he half-assed a kick to close it. It was left ajar.

I let myself in as quietly as I could. I heard him in the other room, so I decided to hop back against a wall. Now, obviously killing someone over the phone would set up red flags all over the fucking place, so that's a bad idea. I had to wait for him to finish his bullshit lecture to whoever was on the other end. Thirty-four minutes. The asshole doesn't like shrimp, either. Who doesn't like shrimp?

Once he hung up the phone and threw it onto the table, he decided to take a seat at the table. I casually walked up behind him and covered his mouth and nose with a rag soaked in chloroform. Now, you're probably wondering, "Where did he get a rag soaked in chloroform from?" Answer: Thirty-four minutes. Time management, my lovely children. Anyways, I had the guy in a sleeper hold AND with chemicals at his breather-holes. He wasn't breathing, so I let him pass out. Theeeeeen he took a nice, deep breath. I'm not sure if that would've knocked him out for even longer. Not like that would've even mattered.

So I dragged him. I dragged him into his bathroom, let him flop down into the bathtub. Slit his throat nice and deep, and let him bleed for a bit. Now, this is where the fun begins! I took gasoline to the whole place. I swear, he had five cans conveniently placed in his attic. I left a dry trail to the front door, just for an easier escape route. I walked in on Mr. Boross messily trying to get out of the bathtub. Now THAT! THAT was hilarious! He could hardly even stand, let alone move his thumb! So, I brought a boot down on his rib-cage. Watched what was left of the life in his eyes shine, then set the place alight.

I don't need to worry about his escape, I locked every single door. I took the laptop, deleted my documents from every connected database in his high-tech laptop, then I dropped it in a lake. Hell, I don't even know exactly which lake it was. Maybe it was Erie... But that, my friends, is how I stopped existing to the asylum. They aren't even worried about me, anymore. What, with my killing four of their main men and suddenly ceasing to exist?

I can finally go on with the Operation. I can restore this, I know it. I just need to hope that HE of all "people," doesn't notice me. Not yet.

The road of good intentions is paved with Sin

You know... it might seem like I've only started acting on my motive when I began this blog. But that's untrue. I've been working on this project for far longer. I knew that this would happen, and I refuse to let it go about its routine. 561 and I were working behind his back. I'm not entirely far from completing the formula, I need more time. He's been ignoring me for the entirety of this Operation, hopefully he'll continue to do so until I've finished. But if he notices what I'm doing, that might be the end of that and I won't be able to do jack shit about this situation.

I used up all those syringes on the old doctor, and they've been cleaned out. Taking his documents and alibis on myself also cleared my name. There's no physical records of my existence anywhere in the... for lack of a better term, asylum. No witnesses to recognize me. And I just took care of the digital records tonight!

For now, though, I bid you adeau. I'll explain how I went about that at a later time, but for now, I should probably run. And Dominic? Thank that "anonymous source" for letting you see my works. And thank you for the compliments. See you around, bud.