I Seek You, Gentleman Jack

The following was found on an unlabeled cassette tape, smeared with blood, which was in the men's room of a mental institution in northwestern Missouri.

They say he's been to the center of hell or some shit. Personally, I'd believe it. Ya don't go and make crap like up for no goddamn reason, ya know? I haven't really heard much, but most people that know anything about him call him "Jack Empty". 'Cause he's empty, he's got Jack inside! Get it? Man, that still makes me laugh. But no, him, this empty jackass, he's my white whale. Call me Ishmael, I guess, 'cause I wanna harpoon his ass good and send him on a one-way journey to the Big Guy.

Only problem is, I got no idea where he is. I mean, I've been staggering around the world for almost two years now, chopping up Seekers and Holders alike, watching 'em get replaced in front of my eyes, before getting the everloving crap out of there. But it's been aimless, ya know, just going where my feet happened to lead me. I guess it helps that I always seem to have enough money for bus fare, or plane tickets. But from what I hear, this cat is good at hiding. Ya know, hiding in places between places, or heading off to some yellow brick road or something. I dunno, really, sounds dumb to me, but hey, apparently this guy puts my old Object-grabbing record to shame.

I kinda wonder sometimes if the Big Guy would make a new personal torment for this guy. Ya know, 'cause from what I hear, he's... Well, he's not a good guy. Not even close. I've never seen him personally, and all the more shame for that, but apparently he's just too gray. Gray skin, gray clothes, gray personality, gray... fuckin' everything. I wanna see if I can get a splash of red to give him a bit of color. Ya know, the more Objects a Seeker has when I cut 'em up with this goddamned good sword here, the more ecstasy I'm in. I mean, one Object is a person taste of heaven for a few hours, but more than that... It's so good that being back here is about the same as going from here to an eternal pit of tortures that no human mind could conceive. Yeah, it's that good up there.

So, this Jack Ass, yeah, whatever he's called, he's my quarry, and what's funny is he prolly doesn't even know I exist! Or he does, and if he does, I really hope he's not scared. I hate chasing people. Especially people that are good at hiding. 'Course, with my luck, I'll finally get some lead on him, only to find out that he's long dead or some shit. That would just burn my ass.

But I've gotten a bit off-topic. You really aren't supposed to let people talk to you once you've started a journey to see a Holder. It's just not safe, ya know? I forgot what you even told the receptionist, or who you're after... and it really doesn't matter. I mean, yeah, you have a sword an' shit, but... hey, isn't that my old sword? Gal-mu... whatever? Goddamned sharp sword, that's what that is.

'Course a goddamned sharp sword ain't no match for my goddamned good sword. Tell the Big Guy I'll be waiting for my reward when ya see him, will you? Oh, and ask him to point me toward this Jack fellow.

There is the sound of sword on sword here, followed by a new voice's screams of pain, then the tape cuts to silence.