Another one dead

Well. I said I'd cover for him.

Ember was spending time with Swan, shortly after truck tipping, burning and crashing another into it whilst filled with fireworks. It was most fun I've had in a while, but since Ember got that fucking bird, he's been really distressed.

Tau and I wanted him to keep out of the general hustle and bustle of this place for a while. I took over training and he's been working on building a killhouse on one of the unused floors. You know. Give teams guns or knives, let em at each other in confined spaces.

I recieved a call last night from another of our Backers. He said he was being stalked by someone. Ember's cell was turned off during his little playdate with Swan, so I responded by myself and met up with him in the restroom of a boarded up resteraunt. They all have code names, until they die anyway. I knew him as Scrooge.

His eyes lit up as he saw my face. He was shaken, asked where Ember was. Talking to him, we established he was being followed by some woman, he kept seeing "her" everywhere  Then Ember's creepy little stalker came in... Penny.

He was up on his feet like some scared little rat, keeping me between them. I noticed her "Daddy" wasn't here, or maybe I couldn't see him.

"What are you doing here Penny?"
There was muttering behind me. "It's her! Kill her, kill her."
She had this sweet, innocent smile. Content in her life as her Master's plaything. She tutted. "My fair lady, and I was just looking for you. Tiny Tim was easy to scare into calling you." She had a knife behind her back, judging by the way she held herself.

"You don't hate Ember, but you do not trust her either, do you?"
"Of course I don't hate the kid, but Ember is just so damn stupid sometimes with those morals."
"You don't have morals?" She sighed, tugging out the knife. "And I thought you were like Ember and Salome."

It was then that someone came bursting out from one of the stalls. She let out a scream as she was pulled by the hair. As her head hit the wooden door, she slumped to the ground, bleeding. He wasn't one of ours, no mask I could see, the oversized hood of his jacket covered all but his mouth, like the ghost of fucking christmas future or something. 5'7" or 5'8" perhaps. He had a gun.

"Run Scrooge run." He had a singsong voice, mocking him. Ignoring the terrified whimper at my back,  I drew my gun as he darted out of the restroom. Two shots, I reckon one grazed his leg, judging by the blood trail. But it was too dark to track him, plus Scrooge was with me. His safety was all I cared about at that point.

I escorted Scrooge home, stayed with him until he could get his own personal security with him, and went home. I wish it had helped.

They found Scrooge about ten minutes after I left with his throat slit. His four armed guards were still stood just around the building, two stationed outside his fucking bedroom door. I was called back to help clean up. Called in a team as well, the extra hands were useful in getting rid of evidence leading to us.

It was very early morning when I finally got back. Ember was in bed, painting the wall and pillow with his brains. He doesn't do it that often anymore, just when he needs to dream.

I need to get back to writing this full report rather than the little summary I did here. Times. Dates. Whatever is required. Theta's gonna be pissed at what happened to his eight year old, but I didn't do it so I guess I'll be fine.

For the record though, I do have morals. It's just that they are what Mother tells me they should be.

And Scrooge's full name was Timothy Cratchit, by the way. In case any of you care.