Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in blackknightone's LiveJournal:

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Friday, December 1st, 2006
1:07 am	It would have been a wonderful life. ( Part One ) (36 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, November 21st, 2006
5:59 pm	Alcatraz Slater started understanding why he had been released from prison. Some ‘event’ had caused the Titan’s to get stretched out, worn out, or too stressed out to handle their responsibilities. Whatever it was, it hit Nightwing somewhere personal. He’d been in heavy interrogations where you rough up your ‘mark’ to get information. Considering that Shimmer was responsible for the prison break (and consequently all the lives lost at Alcatraz), Slater had no problem letting Nightwing work her over. The bitch deserved it. To see Nightwing wailing away on someone clearly unconscious was crossing the line. The part of Slater that would be the first to talk…or to lie…when questioned about it would just say that he didn’t care, but he did. Nightwing wasn’t the type to commit murder and Slater respected him enough not to let him do it. Once Nightwing had been pulled off Shimmer, it was clear that Slater wasn’t wanted around. They closed ranks and starting consoling one anther. Tending to each others injuries; physical and emotional. When the Amazon boasted that it was time to put the criminals back in there cells, the inevitible conclusion struck Slater. Once they were finished with him, it would be right back to his cell. Why not, everyone else had treated him like that? The American Government…and well… It didn’t matter to Slater that he couldn’t name anyone else. He just suddenly felt confined, and maybe a little used. He walked toward the shoreline, struck with the need to enjoy the open air. He wished that things could be different. Current Mood: cynical (Comment on this)
Friday, November 17th, 2006
12:53 am	Inside Alcatraz. It's been a funny sort of day for Slater. Get sprung from one Prison to break into anthor Prison, there's got to be a movie deal somewhere. Alcatraz under the control of the inmates is nothing short of chaos. Any item not nailed down has been destroyed, stolen, or thrown into something else. All of the doors have been left open and toliet paper litters everything. Somewhere not far from Slater, someone has started a fire. The lights have gone out leaving only emergency powered track lighting. Corpses of guards are strung up in places and not all of them are in one piece. It's interesting how human brains can look like grubs splattered on the ground. One of the less sane inmates plays with them on the ground. As Slater passes the inmate looks up and yells 'Yatchzee' as some final climax to his game. Threads of drool fly from his lips and it all Slater can do to just give a thumbs up of approval. He leaves the inmate on the floor exclaiming how Slater is welcome in the next game. He passes a bathroom that has been torn apart. Pieces of porclien have been thrown from the room along with feces and stall doors. A inmate runs for his life toward Slater, a mob of inmates are in pursuit chanting the term 'snitch'. If he were a hero he would help that inmate, but instead Slater tackles him. Allowing the mob to form around the 'Snitch', so Slater could easily slip into the next part of the Prison. He had stripped the Checkmate uniform to his waist, tying the gold arm sleeve as a belt. The helmet was placed on his back strapped down by the gold belt. He ditched the Flak Jacket outside over the edge of the cliff by Barker's Beach, and he was regreting it. All around him he could hear gunshots. Prisoners flush with control, took to wasting ammo and screaming thier heads off. It looked like a large group of guards had made a last stand in the Main Cell Block, rows of inmates lay across the floor. Guards in shattered Riot gear lay against walls, the heads were bloody pulps. Old inmates too wise or frail remained in cells where they may have been for fifty some years. They looked on not saying a word, but Slater was sure they knew he didn't belong there. THe hallway which lead to the Warden's Office was full of Activity, inmates had broken into the kitchen and were throwning everything in sight. The power was still on in this section and the damage was even more noticible. Inmates had taken either hammers or meta powered fist to everything. Smacking tiles, cinder blocks on the walls, doors. It didn't matter to them, only if it were fun to do at the time. The final hallway to the Warden was a battle ground. At Slater's end several inmates were in a prolonged firefight with Guards protecting the Warden. No man's land was littered with even more corpses on both sides. Most of the Inmates never knew what hit them... The rest saw a masked man in Gold and Black who fought more like he belonged in prison. "This is Knight to any Titan's on the net. Warden and a small party of Prison Guards have been secured in his Office. Request further intructions." (9 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, November 11th, 2006
2:23 am	Prison Slater used to be a spy, he knows this because he remembers being one. He remembers stealing, kidnapping, committing murder all in the name of...whatever. Most of all he remembers lying, it was always the easiest thing to do. Funny how it all catches up with you. Now life is different, the world has become smaller. A six by eight private cell, lists of scheduled plantings, Charlie the Prison Guard, and the storage closet where he keeps the garden tools. The bulk of the day he's traveling from location to location working as the gardener. Something he gained a reputation for after working for days on Titan's Island. He hasn't been back and according to the schedule won't be returning anytime soon. He leaned against the locker room sink, a dull ache in both of his arms reminds him how hard he'd worked today. In the past he would have just shut off the pain, use his powers to repair his own body and move on. The pain was now a measure of his honesty. He knew that if he felt like this then he was keeping his word and following the terms of his judgment. He ran water over his still bleeding knuckle, dried it off and placed a new band aid on it. A matching band aid to the ones on his other hand. His hands had become calloused, his skin tanned from hours in the sun. He'd also lost at least twenty or thirty pounds of comfortable living. Maybe outdoor manual labor will become the new weight loss craze. Fat chance. After his shower, Slater left the locker room and seen that hunger had gotten the best of Charlie again. Often Charlie would leave him at the end of the day to get to the cafeteria for an early dinner. It would be up to Slater as a 'trustee' to make his way back to the Detention Center on his own. Slater threw his draw string laundry bag over his shoulder and began to leave the gym. He passed the punching bag and slapped it out of boredom. It made that all too familiar sound that just drew Slater back to it. He dropped his laundry and steadied the bag. 'A minute or two won't kill me', Slater thought to himself as he began working up a rhythm. Current Mood: drained (Comment on this)
Wednesday, July 5th, 2006
6:13 pm	The Sentence: Titans' Island I was transported back to Earth with a Watchtower security guard. As soon as we made planet fall I knew where we were. They had sent me back to Titans’ Island in San Francisco. It was cold on the bay, and the early mourning fog made it difficult to see very far away. What could be seen was a collection of landscaping equipment and pallets of grass sod and trees wrapped in burlap sacks. Taped to a shovel stuck in the ground was a set of instruction and a rough map of the surrounding area. My sentence was to start with manual labor. I somehow felt like this was an unnecessary indignity. My gut started to turn with the idea until I told my ego to just shut up. I walked over and grabbed the map off of the shovel. The security guard just stood by and didn’t say anything, he didn’t even tell me to get to work. If I wanted my freedom, I was going to have to get it myself. I started with clearing off the areas where the trees were to be planted. The plans included mulching and the planting of small shrubs. Afterwards the pallets of sod were to be used to patch up areas damaged in a recent attack. Small amounts of rubble scattered the area and had to cleared away. I was glad of the fog because I didn’t really want to be seen doing this, a pride thing I think. Stupid really, there were worse things I could be doing. I do like plants, but I would rather be landscaping in some of my favorite botanical gardens. Working on Starfire’s garden was a lot more rewarding. It wasn’t on the map, too bad… I wanted to see how things were going. Current Mood: uncomfortable (21 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, July 4th, 2006
5:40 pm	Happy Birthday Got an early birthday present on the 3rd, it was a guilty verdict. I have…strong and mixed feelings about it. It’s what I asked for, but at the same time I am stricken at the loss of personal freedom. The part of me concerned with self-preservation was hoping that they would let me off, the wiser part of me knew better. Wonder Woman was hopeful maybe even supportive, but most of the people who presided over the trial wanted to shove me into an airlock. The other half of them have never heard of me, but were horrified at what I have done or was willing to do. Despite what would be considered a bias jury full of personal connections, I got a sentence that was far more lenient then I would have even gotten from an American Courthouse. They were not going to hand me over to the American Government. Instead, they wanted me to work off my crimes, how at the time they didn’t know. I will be detained at the Watchtower under two conditions; I had come to them looking to pay for my crimes. I would be supervised, but if I escaped all bets were off. I would be considered a career criminal and turned over to any Government they chose. The 2nd, I do whatever I am told, if I started to be more a pain in the arse then was worth, it was off to a real jail. It was also made very clear that I was not a member of the JLA. My sentence will last as long as they see fit. Clearly an abstract sentence subject to the personal interpretation of my jailers. I would never have gotten that from a real court, if I didn’t like it I could go behind bars. (Comment on this)
Wednesday, June 14th, 2006
10:10 pm	I left Themyscira, knowing that things would never be the same. I’d admitted to all of my crimes in the past. Continuing to commit crimes and branding myself a traitor to the American Government for my actions on Themyscira. Actions that I now think played into the hands of Lex Luthor. He’s let this go too quickly to not have had an ulterior motive. Something he accomplished, and now I can do nothing about it. I sacrificed everything for a new beginning. I hope I haven’t made a mistake. It’s been over a week here in the Watchtower, and I am not sure if I have made a transition from guest to prisoner. I am being watched by my Hosts, and invited to stay. No one has said anything about leaving, but an awful lot of security comes out of the woodwork the closer I get to an exit. I don’t have any weapons here and I haven’t bothered to try and get any. I’ve kept my costume on when I leave the room provided to me, feeling the need to keep that level of separation from the JLA. For now I remain to them a man in a mask, but to deserve this treatment… …someone of interest. As of late the Watchtower has been very hectic…close to chaotic over the most recent peril to the world. I am not sure of the details as I haven’t been kept in the loop. A passing Guard mentioned the name ‘Darksied’, which isn’t a good name to hear. Considering the world isn’t burning alive the JLA must have prevailed. Seeing the casualties being wheeled into the Infirmary, the victory must have been costly. They will not keep me here forever. Eventually they will come to me, make me answer questions and decide what to do with me. The thought has crossed my mind several times, but I remain numb to that. If they could project a telepathic thought across light years then I have no hope of lying to them. When I tell them the truth, they will help lock me away into an American cell. That is the thought that keeps me awake at night. Being again sent to a Prison where I will be placed into the hands of Lex Luthor. It would have made my all of my efforts to escape his influence and regain my freedom completely pointless. My hope is to find some middle ground, some sort of arrangement where I can have my freedom. When it comes to criminals, the JLA are anything but negotiable. Current Mood: anxious (Comment on this)
Thursday, May 18th, 2006
5:56 pm	War's End ( Read more... ) Current Mood: aggravated (Comment on this)
Monday, May 15th, 2006
10:55 pm	Themyscira: The Beacon's Defence. ( Read more... ) (Comment on this)
Wednesday, July 6th, 2005
12:06 am	Fourth of July Yesterday was my birthday, so they tell me. Everyone growing up in Project: Standard-Bearer had their birthdays on the 4th of July. Some sandal-shoed minion’s idea of a sick, patriotic in-joke to help with all of the brain washing. It also made it impossible to trace people to their original identities. Didn’t want any families showing up in Washington DC thinking their children had actually survived. I’ve never celebrated it anyway, so it doesn’t matter. I reported in to the President on the status of the underground Prison. He wasn’t happy about it, but he’ …commended my commitment to the Nation regarding possible leaks’. It was Luthor’s way of saying he was pleased I knocked off Rudge and his Cultists. They had it fucking coming… …yeah… …it’s been a very long time that I have felt real pleasure killing a man. Can’t believe how ‘hands on’ I let myself get with Rudge’s sanction. It was brutal and unprofessional; an operative shouldn’t enjoy killing a man. When I popped Pharras, I felt nothing. Rudge? I didn’t use all of my strength just to savor the look on his face, a realization that he couldn’t keep my blade from digging into his throat. He gasped like a gutted fish as the blade ripped across his carotid… It makes me feel cold thinking about this. I have to get this out of my head, I still have a mission. Waller wants me to make contact with the Justice League, something she can’t do herself. I’ve tried to maintain a respectable distance from the Hero crowd, especially after what I had to do to Billy. Time is not on my side anymore. I figured the best way to make someone try to make contact with me was to make myself available and give someone a reason. Batman is the last person I want to talk to, if I had the time I would go to Bludhaven. At least I have met Nightwing, I make my way to the outskirts of the city, just before hitting suburban Gotham. I maybe able to find someone that may be easier to talk to. So I am just going to hang out on the roof this small building, dressed as Checkmate’s Black Knight (flak jacket and all). In case this gets out of hand, I have a back up. I pass the time looking at photos (Comment on this)
Tuesday, June 28th, 2005
10:43 pm	Gotham Prison Aftermath ( Read more... ) (Comment on this)
Thursday, June 23rd, 2005
7:50 pm	Below the Gotham Prison: Billy's Cell. There is a sound outside of Billy's cell, like the drop of a heavy bag. The jiggle of a key being fitted into a doorknob, followed by the metallic tick of a lock. The door opens slowly at first as a band of light illuminates the dark room. The light falls onto a gurney where Billy Batson has been put on restraints. A man steps into the light holding what appears to be a set of keys. He speaks into the darkness with a voice that has not been used in a long time. "...Billy Batson?" He entered leading with his pistol until it was obvious that no one else was in the room. He pushed the weapon back into the wrist holster and approached the gurney. Billy Batson lay comatose and heavily restrained. He roughly pushed Billy's shoulder trying to get a responce. When he didn't he checked for airway, breathing, then pulse. He was still alive, but heavily drugged. He tried to position his head and his gloved hand ended up covered in a thin ooze. Slater couldn't smell the ooze because of his mask so he held it up to the light to see what color it was. It was clear with a greenish tinge, and it covered the whole side of Billy's head draining down to the pillow. Tilting Billy's head to illuminate the side, a squriming mass began spreading across Billy's face. Worms, dozens of them, crawling out of the ear canal leaving behind the clear ooze as they moved. Slater wiped away as many as he could before releasing the restrains. He picked up Billy from the gurney then brought him out of the cell. On the floor, William Rudge lay slack jawed with a knife wound in his neck. Slater crossed the room and into the hallway. Two more of Rudge's Cultists lay prone from gun shots. Slater carried Billy past Rudge's lab where the other two Cultists had died. Now came the hard part... trying to contact the JSA and show them he isn't the enemy. He shifted Billy into a fireman's carry and hurried down the hall. Current Mood: vengeful Current Music: Daredevil Soundtrack (Comment on this)
4:13 pm	The Gotham Prison ...beep...beep...beep...beep... *click* Slater shut off the radio in frustration. He had leaked information that Billy Batson had been abducted several days ago and the drop remain untounched. Time was running short, it's almost too late for Billy. The pale complextion of Billy's face and vacant eyes meant his 'personality' was almost gone. Slater had seen and experienced Rudge's 'treatments' himself and knew Billy will never forget such torture. The knowledge that he is responsible for Billy's abduction and subsequent torture is something he will never forget either. As long as Lex or his aides remain to oversee Rudge's experients, Slater can do nothing about it. He has a cover assigned to him by Amanda Waller to stick close to Lex and discover his plans, and it's a cover too important to blow for the sake of one person. Even if they are a child, or Captain Marvel. Even if it meant that with Lex out of the way he could finally kill Rudge and his Cultists. That didn't mean that he couldn't leak information, an effort that seems to have been in vain. Current Mood: angry (Comment on this)
Tuesday, May 31st, 2005
1:05 am	Withdrawal ( Read more... ) Current Mood: sick Current Music: Everybody Knows - Concrete Blonde (8 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, May 25th, 2005
9:31 pm	The Kidnapping of Billy Batson Even with his self repairing abilities, Slater’s ear was still swollen from the effects of the worm’s chemical. The worms had been removed and the pain controlled with steady breathing. His head still felt …clouded…as if he was in control of everything but it lay on a thin sheet of ice. You can touch it and hold it, but you could let it go and it would slowly slide away from you. It was easy to forget what he was doing, continuing on a course of action that he didn’t plan. His new mission was distasteful, but he couldn’t protest. It was to kidnap a child named Billy Batson, Captain Marvel in a ‘normal’ form. Something that he said he would never do, go to war with children. He remembered when he had set a bomb for Arsenal’s daughter, back then he was without care. Then he become involved with the Teen Titans and followed them to a distant planet to rescue the child of Starfire. Now he was about to commit the same act that caused him to travel across the galaxy… what scared him the most was that he didn’t care. He didn't want to do this, but couldn't stop. Maybe it was the chemical, or maybe it was Rudge. Whatever it was, he could not stop from traveling to the home of Billy Batson. Driving in a black van with Rudge's Sniper Cult in the middle of the night. The Cult took Slater's lead and spread out to cut phone and power lines. Then take up positions around the nieghborhood in case of interlopers. Slater himself made his way into the house without a sound, shooting tranquilizer darts into Billy's parents. Then become every Parent’s worst nightmare by entering into the bedroom of a child. An armed man with the intent to take away what is most precious in a family. Slater smothered Billy face with a chloroform soaked cloth then carried him out into a waiting van. This would be something else in his life that Slater will have to cope with. He justified the bomb by saying to himself that it was never discovered, never used. He couldn't help but think about what Cyborg had said to him on the way back to Earth. No matter how good he tried to be people like Cyborg would bring his past to light. No one would forgive him for this, no one would understand. No amount of penence would give him redemption. 'I hate you Cyborg.', thought Slater as he watched the sleeping Billy,'I hate you because you were right. I hate…myself.' Current Mood: indescribable (Comment on this)
Thursday, May 12th, 2005
8:24 pm	Turning Point part 3 *William Rudge sits at a small desk at the secret prison facility in Gotham. He pushes around the contents of a drawer filled with a fews days worth of empty candy-wrappers. In the back he finds a red ball-point pen which he drops next to a form marked 'Progress Report - use a blue or black pen only'. He moves the paper then sweeps away an afternoon's worth of crumbs back into the drawer. After shoving the front of his shirt into his shorts, he rolls up to the desk and begins to write.* The new subject has been in reeducation for a couple of days and has shown excellent progress. Using the information given to me by the Checkmate staff, I have been able to get him to accomplish any task with only mild resistance. He has in the past refused to speak in an attempt to break conditioning, and he is doing this again. Honestly, if this is the worst that I will have to deal with, I am not worried. If I get the chance I will enjoy taking some time next week to give Slater anthor harsh lesson in reeducation. At the moment, his silence isn't preventing him from accomplishing his assigned duties. Checkmate's involvement has allowed my people to access to more eqipment otherwise out of our reach. Slater has been training my people on the use of this new equipment. What is curious is Slater refusal to speak hasn't hampered his ability to train my people. Yesterday, Bob Sr. asked a question that Slater answered by pulling out the technical manual and showing the answer in the book. His lack of desire to speak has been adopted by some of my people. It was first Bob jr, who has been taken in by what I am sure he feels is someone like a 'cool Uncle'. Then came Tanya, the new portion of her hand is working great. Although I think her refusal to speak is motivated by a different reason. Slater was the 'counter-sniper' Checkmate used to stop my people and shot two fingers off of Tanya right hand. It must be traumatic for her to be working with the man I choose for her, who immediately rejected her. A man that we left for dead who came back to hurt her again and is now part of the group. Luthor has insisted that Slater be ready to be used in an operation in Metropolis. I have no reason to believe that Slater would not follow instructions. The mission is to discover what some of the top names in the metahuman community are saying about Luthor's policies and most importantly what they are doing about the disappearence of a Talia Head. Slater has some means to gain information about JLA activity that he won't share with us. We know he can do it because he was able to obtain a transcript of a private conversation between two JLA big names. We'll have to trust Slater's ability at esponiage to obtain something useful and he seems very eager to get to work. Current Mood: contemplative (Comment on this)
Wednesday, April 20th, 2005
10:05 pm	There were too many ties to the Government to let Rudge be taken to a Federal facility. For now they are keeping him in a location even I do not know, and when this is over. I don’t think I will be seeing him again. Considering he trained and brainwashed families to commit acts of terror in the name of a CIA operative who brainwashed him in the late 80’s, no one is going to miss him. In the mean time I have been shipped off to Gotham City to work with the Knight Team assigned to stop the Sniper Cult. So far they have only plains clothes Knights in the field doing intelligence gathering. Mr. Wing, the Rook for this mission, has made it very clear that we are not to wear our Knight uniforms in Batman’s turf until he gives the word. Checkmate’s history with the Bat hasn’t been pretty and we always come out on the losing side. Mr. Wing wants ‘a speedy resolution to the problem without garnering the Bat’s attention.’… his words. Fat chance that is going to happen. I spent a few months with some of his associates in deep space and they found me out. Thinking about running into him gives me a cold chill. So far, Mr. Wing has kept me inside his hotel suite and has refused to let me take part in the mission. He doesn’t trust me even thought the Checkmate Psychologists have cleared me for duty. He’s a micro-manager and the reason for every bad spy-stereotype in American culture. Right down to the red flower on the lapel of a black tuxedo, and he ALWAYS wears a black tuxedo. He’s been working in Intelligence for longer than I have been alive and was picked by Stien himself for this mission. He has even refused any promotions to Bishop so he can continue to work in the field. Some people think he does this as an over compensation for being in a wheelchair, I see it as he likes the thrill of espionage while being surrounded in luxury. He’s mildly pompous, but still a pleasant man to work with. I would enjoy working with him, if it weren’t for the fact he’s preventing me from leaving the Hotel. He even makes me sit with him while he has afternoon tea. He's always trying to start up a conversation, trying to find new ways to get me talk about myself so he can learn more about me. If I were not in the intelligence field myself I would be flattered by being asked so many questions, but I know his game. I think he is trying to get me to talk about the images and conversations I have in my head while with the Cult. I told the psychologists everything that I can think of, but I need to talk to someone who I trust. Despite the warnings in my head, I think I could trust the Bat, but he wouldn’t trust me or talk to me. I need to go to someone to help me figure this out. I have the feeling that what I remember is important and I need to get the information to someone more concerned about the people than themselves. …but who? Current Mood: trapped (Comment on this)
Thursday, April 14th, 2005
11:08 pm	( Read more... ) Current Mood: pissed off (Comment on this)
Tuesday, April 12th, 2005
1:55 am	I awoke on a recliner. There is a television in front of me with Him talking about things that for some reason I can recite verbatim. My equipment has been removed; the arm holster, the titanium staff, the canisters and belts. I am still wearing my mutant spandex sleeve and mask, but both have been tampered with. I feel dried saliva on the inside of my mask. My body’s position in the recliner suggests that I have been placed in this chair. I can hear someone behind me moving around making kitchen sounds. That someone approaches with soft-footed, scratching noises; slippers on a hardwood floor. She comes into view, a girl in her very late teens, but not quite a woman crosses into my view. I instinctively reposition to defend myself but it comes out as a mild spasm. “Oh, you’re awake.” Her voice says she is excited about something. She immediately turns to the television and shuts off the volume. She bounces to the foot of the recliner, her eyes fresh and smile bright. “The Prophet said that if the Faceless One approves, you will be chosen for me. We’ll be betrothed! Isn’t that great!” My response is instant and doesn’t hide my disgust. ”No.” She retreats, hurt by my words and forgets to turn the volume back up on the television. My head clears and I sit up straight on the recliner. William Rudge is on the television again, his lips move to words I repeat back in my head. Without the sound they don’t seem to mean anything to me… That’s it! It’s the sound of his voice! He has something or he is doing something that puts people under his control. …and it works very well against me. I can only guess that I have already been conditioned once in my life. Like heat stroke it can happen again, but only be easier. She storms back into the room yelling at the top of her lungs. “My mother said that I would make a very good wife, and even the prophet said that I am a strong woman and can shoot as good as any man! He said that if the Faceless One chooses we will be together!” She passes by the television and turns back up the volume. Her constant yelling drowns out Rudge’s voice allowing me to get up and shut it off. “I was watching that!” “If you are a strong woman, why are you letting a man choose who you marry?” “He’s the prophet!” Logic wasted on the fanatic. “I am almost twice your age” “Only love matters.” “Grow up!” “I am grown up!” “You’re a little girl”, I’m purposely keeping her yelling to prevent hearing anther television as I make my way to the door. “I can shoot better than you!” I hear the click too late, she fires twice with a pistol hitting me in the back and shoulder. I drop to the ground, trying to start my breathing. She keeps shooting hitting the recliner, ricocheting one off my mask, once more in my back and threw my leg. I can feel myself leaking pretty bad all over the floor. I have only enough strength left to gasp for air like a fish. People start running into the room, I can hear Rudge’s voice and he’s telling her to stop. I keep breathing and trying to find my focus, but am too distracted by whatever he is using to control me. Soon the only thing I can focus on is the wave of red spreading over the wooden floor. The colors blend together as my vision blurs, eventually everything goes dark. Somewhere in my head I here my own words…”I did it.”…then I black out. Current Mood: lethargic (Comment on this)
Monday, April 11th, 2005
12:16 am	It’s been hard to think. I have been caught, but I am not a prisoner …I think. I was just standing there…watching the television, listening to Him talk about gas prices, the Courts, what’s wrong with America. I found myself caring about what it all meant, to me, to my children…no wait, I don’t have children. He showed up with a group of people… a family. They were all armed but not hostile, they seemed to know I felt sluggish and calm. One of them said to search me for weapons, but He said otherwise. “Were he here to kill us he would have already done it by now. I can tell that this man is very well trained.” It meant a lot to hear William Rudge said that about me. I felt happy knowing that He was pleased. He asked me my name and my mouth went numb. After a few failed attempts to sound out ‘Jack’, I could only stammer out my codename ‘Black Knight One’. This seemed to shock a few people, and He asked me to tell him my real name. I tried harder to do this as He was getting upset at my refusal to obey. I tried… I honestly tried. He, however, did not get upset at me. He stepped forward placing his hands on my shoulders and told me that that Government had made me into their slave. They put walls in my mind that make me obey them. When He told me this it all made perfect sense to me. I have been a tool my whole life, doing evil things against the will of my heart. He said other things but I can not remember them. I can only remember the guilt and remorse that have been locked away for years. I felt so heavy in front of him and I was forced to drop to my knees. He held me and said that I should rest because my path to freedom lay before me. I am so tired. (Comment on this)