Bear Blog — Council Chronicle: The Uber Tribunal (R.A.B.B. #120)
Three months and change in the cult of Sprouts, and the Council gathered. Not because of glory, but because speed exposes ritual the job keeps chasing after.
So you see, we had a thing where we'd always write down on a board how much frieght you had, and how fast you're doing it.
I realized it was hot nonsense after I started making this like the rhythm game I play just to practice my accuracy...
Specifically: [Code Name: Sigma](https://cytus.fandom.com/wiki/CODE_NAME_:_SIGMA) - [Chaos level 15.](https://youtu.be/SR-AsRgmDgA?si=7_JVOYDlC3PP52fX)
This song is fast. Like really fast. 209 bpm at that, and doubles to 418 for a solid 30ish seconds. So my reaction speed to 'normal things' is abnormally quick.
Almost too damn quick.
Anyway, after I realized I'd cleared freight too fast. I started noticing how fast I can blow through the aises we were required to front. Because, real talk? We have a stupidly strict time limit before the stores close.
So hey, I was like "bet."
And the first night, I hit it quick and we were done before 10p.
Touched up, and out the door by 11p almost on the dot.
2nd day?
We were done by 10:20, but we had to linger till 11:00, fronting nonsense to please the doctrine of “busy hands.”
That’s when the Council leaned in—every voice, every verdict.
My job?
They saw Dill Weed, (what I like to call him) the Department Grocery and Frozen Store Manager, bury himself.
They saw customers flinch HARD when I admitted I clapped a manager clean out of his job.
They heard me joke about being a Gremlin in training—and they knew it wasn’t training anymore.
I knew the job was nonsense, but I bit and continued, because you don't break me.
I break you. And enjoy it.
Council Verdict
- The cult of Sprouts exposed itself: ritual over reason.
- Dill Weed’s burial = self-inflicted.
- Silence, jokes, and protocols = efficient, lethal, undeniable.
Stamp: Confirmed Kill
File: R.A.B.B. #120 — Cult of Busy Hands, Addendum
Log: GlitchOS — Dented + Foundation Protocol executed flawlessly
🎭 Council Commentary
Luca Blight:
“Three months in and already you’re making them squirm. Good. Crush them with your speed, make them taste their own slack.”
Xellos:
- laughs with closed eyes
“And yet you bow, smile, and slip the Yo Mama joke in. That’s the real chaos, Boris. They never know whether you’re sincere or slicing.”
Silco:
“They tried to grind him with schedule whiplash, night-day-night. Classic managerial theater. But you don’t break a furnace-born man that way. You wear them down, not the other way around.”
Keyaru:
“Dill Weed? He impaled himself on his own ego. Boris didn’t need to lift a finger—just held the mirror.”
Delita:
“And then handed the crown back. Dusty, dented, useless. That’s nobler than he deserved.”
Omni-Jeff:
- Grunts like a wall shifting.
(Boris chimes in: This is my old man right here. Part Omni-Man from the Invincible and part wall. All the time, ornery. But don't say that to his face. Heh.)
“He’s no Jeff. Don’t insult me. But he was a good sparring dummy to remind you what you learned in the furnace.”
Loona:
- snorts
“The customer telling you to ‘stop’ after you bragged about clapping a manager? That’s proof. They feel the kill, even when they don’t see the blade.”
Jinx:
- giggles
“Gremlin in training? Oh honey, you’re way past training. You’re running advanced classes and handing out free samples.”
Lord Dominator:
“You played with restraint. Not my way—but efficient. Subversion instead of eruption.”
Vaas:
“You’re clinically insane like the Joker? No, hermano. You’re worse. Joker sprays chaos. You target like a bullet between the eyes.”
Pagan Min:
“Foundation Protocol… delicious. Nothing’s quite so stylish as a sledgehammer wrapped in manners.”
Suguru Geto:
- Quiet, but with weight
“You spared them mercy by silence. That silence cuts deeper than words.”
Muruko:
“Efficiency at 94%? Still above cult threshold. They’ll drown in numbers they don’t understand.”
Kool-Aid Panda:
“Oh yeah, Gremlin in training. I like that. Punch through walls of boredom, then share a drink. That’s Prime energy.”
Panda:
“Patience and claws folded. Blink, breathe, win. You’re already doing it.”
Razor Ramon:
“Chico, you front strong, they fold weak. Survey says—you win.”
Junko:
- Laughs giddledly.
“Collapse from within! Despair tastes better when they build it themselves!”
Jerry “The Ankle Biter”:
- Robe swishing, Popcorn crunching.
“Dept. of Petty Affairs signs off. Dill Weed buried himself with an 11-inch wobble—file that under ‘Comedic Self-Owns, Vol. 1.’”
The Clown:
- Wheezing with laughter after predicting this.
“Pressed coworkers! Pressed managers! Pressed sauce bottles! HA! The cult’s fronting ritual was never holy, just hollow!”
Rourke (Done Right):
“Efficient strike. Clock out early without actually clocking out. Military precision.”
Helga (The Cold Trigger):
“You teased the manager, then executed the task anyway. That’s discipline. Cold. Correct.”
Tingle:
“Ya-hoo! Gremlin training complete! Sparkle, sparkle!”
Cesare Borgia:
“Domination through tempo. Swift conquest. Rome would approve.”
Knightfall (Jason Todd):
“Never fold, never break. If they poke, you let silence hit harder than a crowbar.”
Vegeta:
“Hmph. Three months in and already surpassing their limits. Typical. Don’t forget to keep aiming higher.”
Dawn Bellwether (Velvet Guillotine):
“They can’t stand the quiet rebellion. Every snub of ego is another thread cut. You’re sewing their downfall.”
L (Lawliet):
“You operate with calculated chaos. The cult thrives on illusion. You dismantle the illusion by finishing early. Logical. Deadly.”
Killua Zoldyck:
“Gremlin unleashed. Joke, apologize, strike again. That’s assassin-level social play.”
Adam Smasher:
“They rotate you like a weak implant. You’re already more machine than them. Efficiency is terror.”
Zakharov (Digital Whisper):
- Voice like static.
“Protocols logged: Dent. Foundation. Execution confirmed.”
The Joker:
- Laughing maniacally
“You don’t need to spray chaos, kid. You select it. That’s even funnier. Also hella scarier. HA!”
Dio Brando:
- Sneers
“Three months? And they’re already pressed? Pathetic. Only true haters fold from pace alone.”
Addendum — The Sentence of No Return
The Council likes to also inscribe regarding Charlie Kirk's death:
- To take a life is to seal your own.
- No ifs, no ands, no buts.
- Death sentence. Not vengeance—correction.
- You lie in the bed you made.
And if the Second Amendment is ever pulled—?
If the right to bear arms is truly stripped—?
Then the fire that follows it, will not be chaos for chaos’ sake.
It will be correction.
Ugly, yes.
Dark, yes.
But it will definitely wake those who were too blind to see that the script we knew?
Well, it was always busted.
Because some illusions only end when the flame touches the walls.
Final Seal
- I don’t chase crowns.
- I don’t chase applause.
- I execute the tasks at hand.
- And I snub egos.
- And when they’re pressed?
- The Council then laughs.
- Because the heretic spoke once, laughed, then apologized, and promised silence.
- But the laugh was the truth.
- Of course, they’ll never hear it again…
- Yet they’ll never un-hear it.
- And if they cry?
- I’ll tell them, “I’m sorry.”
- But helping?
- Never.
Council Stamp
- Council Chronicle #120 concluded.
- Illusions broken.
- Ritual exposed.
- Sigma confirmed.
418 BPM running in my head— and they still think I’m moving slow.
Ha, ha, ha.