by Garrett Cook
Ian chews with a series of “mmm”s trying to transcend everything between him and the gory details as soon as possible. Just about every time we go to lunch, Hausmann has something to say to him, since after all, Psychopomps use Friday night to unwind too. I feel a bit of an ego boost that the little stunt Jeremy and I pulled makes whatever he has to say look like business as usual. From the continued annoyance in Ian’s body language, I can tell that it definitely is. It takes a little while for him to show a glimmer of interest. It’s no Mr.400, but it’s up there.
“A skinner, Hausmann? God, we don’t see many of them nowadays. But what do you mean they were just kind of piled there?” Nod nod nod, chew chew.
“No formaldehyde? Nothing to soak in?”
He gets a sudden “what the fuck” look on his face. Not total astonishment, but the look you get on your face when you’re going ninety and get passed by a truck anyway. Annoyance, traces of bewilderment, but mostly just wondering how the hell it could have gone down. When Hausmann’s related the entire story, Ian relays it to me. We’re casually puzzled and a bit disgusted, but it doesn’t get in the way of our lunch or anything. It’s weird, it’s sick, but it’s mostly old hat, with the exception of a few details.
I watch a pretty, blonde Aryan cop on the six o’ clock news. I’ve seen her before on the news or just about town. She looks irate and nauseous. I used to be angry at cops for being irate and nauseous, but I’m not anymore. For the most part, they’re just formalities, crossing guards, and extras in Reap videos, expert witnesses or notches on the belts of brave psychopomps who kill outside the Safe Zone. I’d be annoyed and sick too. This cop is looking at fifteen human skins hanging in a closet in a warehouse a mile on either side from the nearest Safe Zone. And the press is here to ask her obnoxious questions and make it all worse.
“So, do you think you’re going to catch this Mr.400 guy?”
The blonde detective looks at the idiot reporter with disbelief in her eyes.
“Mr.400?”
“The guy who’s responsible for the le Couteau shooting. It’s possible he’s killed almost 400 people.”
“First of all,” she snaps, “I have no reason to believe he has. And second of all, while I feel for three minor celebs killed at a Reap club, I think these fifteen young men whose bones and organs are most likely a mile away somewhere, somewhere most likely I can’t get a warrant for, seems a little more pressing. Call me a bigot.”
“Are you saying that Mr.400 is not a priority for the police?”
“I sure am.”
She has a nice smile. One that makes its way onto Jeremy’s face too.
Reapchic.com, September 23 rd, 2006
I’ve anguished over what to say about an event that ends society as we know it. Ends our society at least. Do I welcome the new world order? Does this make me a traitor to the old world order? Does this sound melodramatic? I have anguished because I’m a position where I have to determine whether an important event in my community that I witnessed was a senseless slaughter, or the bloody trumpet of a new dawn. Or was it both? These are the obligations a journalist, whether a well paid newsman or an amateur enthusiast or a self-made celebrity has. You don’t come here for objective news; you come here for informed opinions. It took me awhile to formulate these opinions, but I am certain now that I believe them and I stand by my opinions. Any of you who are offended are offended by my heart and my sensibilities and I suggest that you cease to follow this forum. To those of you who do, I’d like to thank you for the patronage and encouragement you’ve given thus far and wish you luck. Not everyone can ride the waves of social advancement, not everyone can stand beside a future instead of lingering in the past.
Last night, Friday September 22nd, Wayne Pfenniger and Penny Dreadful and the Aberrations were both special guests at the hip Reap club Le Couteau. Pfenniger was to give a speech on the nature of fame in Reap circles and the Aberrations were playing songs to promote their next charity tour for the Thomas Gennaro fund. Everyone present was there to evaluate and serve Reap culture. And then something happened which, ironically did both and even more.
A mysterious figure dressed to mock Godless Jack and wearing a shirt that said “400” on it proved that a pet theory of mine that I’ve discussed with you before might be accurate. The “h8 killer” and the “Have a Nice Day Killer” are in fact one and the same person. From the shadows of years of anonymity, he has come out and is here to speak out against the establishment of Reap celebrity. If this man’s claims are true, he is the most prolific serial murderer of all time and is willing to add piles of bodies to his crusade. He came here to tell us that our culture of violence is dead and that Reap as we know it is a sham. He showed us that Wayne Pfenniger, known for his killings was only human and as vulnerable as anybody on the street. He proved this, regrettably, with a sawed off shotgun that made Pfenniger into a public mess. Pfenniger’s execution served as a reminder of the tricks that celebrity plays on people, on the falseness of reputation and hearsay. Rethinking these things means rethinking Reap in his eyes. His vision is distorted, but it is not devoid of truth or merit.
The Aberrations played along to Mr.400’s announcement, moved to expression by the power of his self expression. Drumbeats joined with words, singing and chanting erupted over his speech. Le Couteau experienced an orgy of spontaneous expression and excitement while awash in the blood of the slain Bundy winner. Mr.400 came with epiphany and the charisma to really move a crowd. There are of course, those who disagree with this. To express even more eloquently his disdain for Reap as we know it and for the statement that murder is art, he shot two members of the Aberrations dead and then left. In this, he said no more rhythm, in this he said that Reap could not keep the beat of the pulse of life. He said Reap as we know it was gone and that our culture of violence was dead. With Mr.400’s coming, he might be right. A whole new culture of violence must arise and must replace the old one with braver more eloquent messages. Bloody epiphany has shown me that life must be different and art must be different forever.
As Reap is a union of life and art, we must take Mr.400’s attack on le Couteau to heart and reexamine the nature of Reap celebrity. We must first examine his brave mockery of Godless Jack. By his willingness to show up wearing the face of the great harbinger of Reap, he shows that he is unafraid of him. This is a challenge to Godless Jack, one that says “the thing you have made is starting to crumble”. Jack needs to show a firmer leadership than before and possibly to come out of retirement. Jack used to have to kill to live, but it seems now he has been eating fine and needs not go out and hunt anymore. Perhaps we need to see the old Godless Jack to come back and show us that he is the figure of menace he once was. I continue to worship Jack and his work, his ability to take primal urges and turn them into meaningful cultural and social content, to merge our media with the dark places in our souls. But, Mr.400 makes a point. What are psychopomps compared to cancer and AIDS and car accidents? Are they truly the forces of nature that they used to be? Our killers need to remember to be big, bold and reassert the importance of their place on the food chain. When will they cease to be entertaining, when will we say that we expect more? The psychopomp needs to be bigger, badder and more genuine. If they are just another competitor in the nation’s biggest sport, they lose the sense of menace they once had. Remember that the psychopomp is death on earth, a living plague. Godless Jack is a cannibal, not a latter day David Brenner.
Mr.400 has also brought up that if we align ourselves with psychopomps, we are ourselves perhaps as morally reprehensible as they are. Psychopomps primarily kill out of need, and yet we support them to be entertained. Should our support of them perhaps instead come from needs other than entertainment? Perhaps we should understand and examine the need and consequence of a psychopomp’ s action before we lend our support to him and in this way we can show that our support comes not from ignorance or media addiction but from a place in our hearts. This is where it should come f
rom and we should be more vocal and assertive about it. I have placed my famous Anatomy of Decay column back in the archives for you all to peruse and to improve your hold on what you’re doing and try to usher Reap into new spiritual and intellectual heights. The morality and loyalty issues are on the table, so we must seek legitimacy from those we support and we must ourselves be legitimate and unwavering in our support.
Our costumes must be bolder, our arguments stronger and our appreciation deeper than they have ever been. Reap has been challenged, and therefore we have been challenged, by a friend to the advancement who masquerades as an enemy. When an ideology is challenged, we must rethink it from the ground up, so here is what I have been thinking in regards to the tenets of Reap:
Reap commandment number one: Reap is Tragedy. This is more than ever present in my mind after the le Couteau attack. We must now understand that the tragedy is omnipresent. We must also consider ourselves tragic for embracing the tragic. Sounds stupid, doesn’t it? We who have chosen to feel the tragedy must know that we can ourselves be absorbed by it. The imminence of death pales in comparison to a possible misinterpretation, a chance that we have seen the lessons of tragedy through the wrong lens. At the club we exalted in tragedy, knowing that we were superior to those who were ignorant of it, the people who still watch G-rated movies and wish the profanities would be bleeped out of their music. We are not. Our feeling that the understanding of tragedy would keep us from having to suffer it is out of date, we must understand that whether we have chosen to acknowledge the power of tragedy or not, we are governed by it. Don’t give in to depression, but know that we are no less vulnerable for feeling the tragedy. If we think that we are, then the tragedy will test us, and if the tragedy will test us, it almost goes without saying that the tragedy will take us. Wear your tragedies on the outside and consider them on the inside.
Reap commandment number two: Reap is ecstasy. Mr.400 challenges this notion. He challenges it by saying that we have become too hedonistic. He challenges it again, by killing those who do not take him seriously. Take it seriously. Do not just give into hedonism by becoming a mindless sex starved beast or a drug addict, give into it by enjoying yourself under any circumstances. If our tragedy has grown deeper, then our ability to rejoice because of and in spite of it must do so as well. Since we must no longer think ourselves better or less vulnerable than those who do not understand tragedy, we must be able to enjoy ourselves under all circumstances. We must be actively indomitable in our hedonism. No social tragedy should stop us from going out and having fun again. Before, Reapers used hedonism to escape reality, but we should use it instead to feel it deeper. In reality, tragedy is all around us. So, no individual tragedy, no moment of vulnerability should really affect us.
Reap commandment number three: Reap is Wisdom.
This is one we’re going to have to really reexamine. We have to prove to ourselves and to others that Reap is wise and to have a lot of perspective on death and the actions of the psychopomp. Mr.400 has pointed out that our psychopomps have set themselves up as false gods, so we must understand what is godlike and important about killing and help validate our lifestyle through this knowledge. I propose we begin by examining other perspectives on death. Perhaps we should begin with looking at Thanatology and concepts of the afterlife. If we need constantly fear death, we must thus examine its importance and impermanence at the same time. I cannot just tell you what to feel on this. If spiritual and intellectual pursuit of the meaning and purpose of death leads us back to Reap, then it is certainly the perspective and lifestyle for us. I can take solace in the fact that every religion and philosophy shows death as a transformation of sorts, so if we understand this, we will be less afraid, has more perspective and be able to enjoy ourselves more. This encompasses all of the other Reap rules. I encourage you to extend your perspectives on death and see why psychopomps are in fact necessary in nature. If we do not help them understand their place in nature, they can become unnatural. Not the embodiments of madness and death that they are meant to be, but attention grubbing wannabe celebrities. Reinforce these things to help out our idols, point them in the right direction, turn them into conscientious, intelligent killers like Mr.400, who has chosen to show his place in the natural order as a kind of ideological clean up crew. Expanding upon and comprehending the wisdom of Reap is in this way, an utter MUST.
Reap Commandment number four: Reap is courage. I stated this before at a point when Reap was just emerging, and I must reevaluate it in a world where Reap is a more mainstream and formidable lifestyle, and a world in which Mr.400 has appeared to make us question everything. Perhaps the kind of courage that Reap now requires is a sort of courage that might be overwhelming and shocking. The new courage Reap requires is the courage to criticize Reap. If you think someone’s work is becoming too commercial, you need to say that, if you think somebody is missing the point of Reap, you need to tell them, if you feel that your heroes are starting to forsake you, it is imperative that the Reap community knows it. Because if the Reap community does not know it, then they will not be able to improve themselves. If you stand behind Mr.400 and the need for Reap reformations, you need to let that be known. The new Reap courage is the courage to look at ourselves objectively and decide if we are being wise, brave and joyous enough, for if we are not, then Reap as a whole loses out on it.
So, in conclusion, I take a stance similar to that of Penny Dreadful. The Aberrations will be missed, as will Wayne Pfenniger but Mr.400 has the same rights as Jack and such do, or else Jack and his ilk have none at all. It is that simple and should not be called to debate, whether it is a pleasant statement or not. Mr.400’s rights are clear, his desire for change is clear and our need to accept change is clear. If we did not need to change, how then could we have been shocked by the coming of a judge into our midst? Were Reap as wise and brave as it has sought to be, then it would be clear that judgment would come and we would be able to stand up to it, but the criticisms brought upon us were valid ones, so instead of looking upon Mr.400 as a traitor, we must look upon his as a Reap patriot setting out to make Reap better for the Reap world at large. But that doesn’t mean I don’t hope he gets his. This is Ian Sterling signing off.
.Noir
What are we doing here, Jeremy? Things to dismantle elsewhere. A mile outside each Safe Zone. Empty warehouse surrounded by police tape. It takes a bit of driving and a bit of thinking to find the place, but when I do, I think I recognize it. I’ve driven past this place a lot, actually. In spite of being a mile from the Safe Zone on each side, it’s not far outside the city. Decent place to drop a body. Or fifteen. Somehow it doesn’t stack up to me. How does somebody get fifteen bodies so fast? Automatic weapons spray in a frat house? Cult activity, encouraging a mass suicide? Fifteen bodies are usually easy to explain, but this time, there doesn’t seem to be any logical explanation, which really bothers me. When this many people go missing at a time, something tends to be up. It usually tends not to be just one Reaper.
Cass heard from Ian who heard from Walter Hausmann that they were all in approximately the same state of decay, and there were no traces of formaldehyde. So, they must have been deposited in the warehouse at about the same time. That’s an awfully big drop. Whoever did this is either Bundy worthy, or up to something unorthodox. I suspect the latter. I also suspect that these killings were done in the Safe Zone, because cops tend to stay clear of the Safe Zone itself, although they’ve been known to idle squad cars five feet outside it. They might not have been killed at once, just at relatively the same time. Most likely within the same night. It’s hard for the cops to tell because it’s just skins, skins that have obviously been moved by now, taken to the lab to determine exactly how far apart the killings are.
There might still be something, some telltale sign, some kind of strangeness left in the warehouse. I wonder if the police checked rafters, rusty file cabinets, and old crates. I wonder just how much police work they have done here. Yes, it was o
utside the Safe Zone, but the cops don’t try to put away high profile cases fast. With Safe Zone laws in effect, it’s hard for cops to get a good reputation, so they like to wait and let cases build up profile, in hopes of actually catching some errant psychopomp and keeping the Bundy committee, the networks and people like the Contessa from getting them off. I think I’ll try and do the police work they didn’t, to see what this particular monster is up to and what I can do to rid the world of people bold and horrible enough to think that doing something like this is okay. Bold, horrible. Like shooting two innocent musicians for not getting the message. Like killing 380 women for not resisting the temptations of the Dark Ones. I’m pretty bold and pretty horrible too. But maybe this will help make up for it. No more innocents, no more killing to make a point. Only people like whoever did this. Though I might kill Ian Sterling to make a point. Who would blame me? He’s just as bad as this abomination, “the Tanner” as the media calls him.
I don’t have IR goggles or anything like that, just a flashlight. Jones offered me a pair of IR goggles for two hundred dollars, but I had to decline. The expenses were already starting to get sky high. It’s just me, this warehouse, a flashlight and my wits. And that stench. It’s not rotting flesh or organs, it’s something else. It would have been faint next to the scent of the skins hanging in the closet. Sloppy police work. She looked upset, she looked distracted, and so she could have easily missed something. I’m certain this place didn’t smell like roses already so the vomit might not have seemed like anything extraordinary. This has always been a place where high school kids sneak off to drink or smoke up, so it might have been one of them. I still take note of it. I look around for a bit, and then I discover that this place has a bathroom.
