Wednesday 28 November 2012

Of Towerborn and Timberwolves

I've been quite busy lately. Tracking the Towerborn while avoiding the Timberwolves. Unsuccessfully, by the way. The Towerborn decided not to leave Rome at all, but rather head further into the city, hardly a sound tactic when that's where I am. Or maybe it's hunting me. I think I'd win, I've got the gun and the hoodie.

But it traveled further in anyway, and I decided to ambush it at a street corner. Heading out of the hotel and avoiding contact with any Timberwolves, identifiable to me thanks to my super powers, or whatever. I traversed the streets of Rome, my phone tracking the Thing's movements. I made my way to intercept the little blinking point on my screen, but it began moving the other way away from me.

I walked faster and faster to catch up with it, but it was faster than me and less hindered by the desire to not call attention to itself by running like a mad man after something no one else even knew was there. Giving up trying to look inconspicuous I began jogging, weaving in and out of busy people. Then I was running, the Towerborn still leaving me behind, until finally I sprinted, faster and faster towards the point on my phone.

It was slowing down and I was finally catching up, closing in on it. But looking at my phone I made an odd realisation, the Towerborn was entering Vatican City. Why? What business could it have in the centre of Catholicism? So I pursued it into the small city, finding a less tourist ridden access point through the surrounding wall, discreetly dealing with a security guard.

Now within the city I continued towards Blinky (the Towerborn's new name after its representation on my phone). Inside the structure, through hallways probably no tourists would see, ducking around corners and into rooms to avoid being spotted, even knocking out a priest or two. They always bored me anyway. Even after all the supernatural I've seen I probably believe in God even less. Maybe it's because I now believe in the almighty power, purity and perfection of absolute and all-devouring Nothingness. Or something else, I don't know.

I found my way down several hallways through the labyrinthine complex that is the Vatican, I never knew it was so complicated when I want there a couple years back. I didn't know how a shambling, tatter cloaked, monstrous mess of metal and flesh managed to make its way through unnoticed.

Then I found out. As I neared the blinking light I realised Blinky was now on the other side of a wall. Unfortunately, the way behind the wall wasn't at that point, meaning it could have gotten through at any point up ahead. Regardless, I continued, hoping to find some sign along the lines of "Pull lever to open secret passage". Something told me I was aiming a little high.

But that was exactly what I found. Well, maybe not exactly. I slid into a small office of sorts, an ornate desk with a chair and topped with papers at the far side and lined with books and more importantly, bookcases. Bookcases that could hide a secret passage. Already got underground bases and tracking devices, why not secret passages?

The question was: Which book? The entire place was covered in books to choose from and if I didn't want anyone to know I was there I couldn't just start yanking out every book on the shelves unless I wanted to spend ages sorting them all back in their proper places, and just wait for someone to walk in/out to find me sitting on the floor trying to figure out where to put books that start with numbers in alphabetical order.

But the answer presented itself soon after. As I was perusing the books for clues, I found one. An extremely obvious one in that matter, they might want to be more secretive if they want to keep out meddlesome Hunters like I. On the bottom of one of the books were the good old Twin-Triangles. Seems Blinky had some business with the Timberwolves. I pulled out the book and failing that poked the triangles and pushed in the book, resulting in a satisfying click that signaled my victory over their devilsome puzzle.

The case slid away to reveal a medieval looking passageway behind. Now it was turning into some Da Vinci Code or Angels and Demons type goings on. Conspiracy theorists would have a field day. Heading down the flaming sconce lined steps (yes, there were really sconces) into the deep, dark Timberwolf territory. All my travelling finally culminating in some equally conspiratorial chamber, lined with sconces and a dozen Timberwolves, Blinky and three more Timberwolves in the centre.

I figured why let an opportunity such as this go to waste and hung out out of sight, listening in.

"He is here?" asked the lead Timberwolf, an elderly man in a dark grey hoodie and dark blue jeans that didn't seem to suit him, flanked by my Apostle friend from the train and another, likely also an Apostle. The first Apostle appeared the same as from our encounter, wearing the gas mask, except for a bandaged hand which he may have gotten from Collector Epsilon. The other wore a long, hooded, black coat and black trousers, except in stead of wearing his hood he wore an old, brown fedora. He was thin and deathly pale, probably didn't grow up in Italy.

The Towerborn spoke in a metallic, screeching voice that made my ears hurt, and from the fidgeting I could tell it had the same effect on the Timberwolves except the three questioning Blinky. "Yes," it screeched from behind its cloth mask, "Shade is here."

Aw, they have a nick-name for me. Sure it's a basic derivation from my blogger name, but still.

"Excellent. If we can kill him here, The Long Game can be stopped." Wow. People really don't like my blog. "THE HUNGERING shall never find purchase here. I have spent too long preparing this place for it all to go to waste!" spoke the leader in an oddly familiar voice, but it was different, and so didn't suit his body either.

"But I feel that won't be a problem," he spoke again, raising a hand and snapping his fingers. Streams of blueish-white, sparkling light latched onto me from all sides, pushing me from my hiding place. "Here, we have Shade!" he announced, to the gasps of everyone else in the room. He pushed his hood back a bit, and I could see his face properly. It was Beta/Theta. Yes, the person(s) I killed. Yes, he was THE FALLEN.

I ran back up the steps as fast as I could, a swarm of angry Timberwolves charging after me (yes, twelve Timberwolves does constitute a swarm). Then oh god -I mean Nothingness-! Talk about timing! My bullet wound is acting up again! Yes, I got shot. Yes, I have to continue this later.

-Shady  

Sunday 25 November 2012

The Hunt

A few days ago I was sent to hunt down something. They didn't tell me what it was or why I was hunting it, only that it's very important I find it, and that it would probably be hanging out its last known location. I have suspicions that it has to do with The Long Game. That it's part of the Next Phase which they've finally located. Nonetheless I set out, following the lead that it was somewhere in Italy. This piqued my curiosity as that is generally outside my jurisdiction, meaning that it was very important that I specifically hunt it. Also, Italy is swarming with Timberwolves.

I started out early and got several buses, taxis and trains for the rest of the day. Finally arriving Rome, late at night. Too tired to continue further I got a hotel and rested until morning. I wasn't fortunate in my selection of hotel. Rising the next day I realised too late that this particular Hotel had been chosen as a hub of sorts for several Timberwolves in town for a meeting. I'd wondered if it was a Timberwolf I was supposed to kill, but I'd have to hunt down every last one in Rome to ensure I got the target. Hardly a feat I'm capable of accomplishing.  

I cursed Master Nowhere for his vagueness, and managed to sneak past the Timberwolves in the lobby. Well, not so much sneak as walk casually, convinced there were no Apostles and hence none of them would be able to tell who I was and that I was a Sine Corda. Out on the streets I determined to head to the more specific last known location of the thing. Address in hand I grabbed a taxi, learning that the last known sighting was quite a bit outside of Rome. But the Nevermore Accord are anything but low on cash, and I had all the money needed to convince the driver to take me there.

After a while of driving, the car stopped just outside a dump. Needless to say, my curiosity was only further piqued. Leaving the taxi, I headed into the landfill. The smell is just as bad as you'd imagine, and the rats! I couldn't count how many rats I saw in that place. I was more interested in finding the target. Was it still here?

Yes, yes it was. I spotted a man, shambling its way through the garbage, clad in tattered brown wrappings. He was very tall and well built. How apt that last phrase was. He looked towards me, peering through the wrappings covering its face with a glowing eye for a moment before sprinting away from me at a speed no human could be capable of. I set after him, gun in hand. I fired, it struck him at the base of the neck. A loud ping resounded and the man continued unaffected by the bullet. I couldn't catch up with it, I couldn't kill it, not from here. Maybe I could outsmart it.

Racing out of pursuit of the monster, I ran around junk pile after junk pile and managed to cut it off, colliding with it as I leapt out from behind another pile. Caught by surprise it took the Thing a while to get me off of it, but not before I managed to shoot it in the face and knock the wrappings from its head. It struck me and I fell off of it. It was on its feet in an instant, glaring at me with one bloodied socket which I'd shot, and one eye, surrounded and augmented by a mechanical shell, stray strands of hair barely covering its head, its jaw mostly in bloody strips covering a metal replacement. It raced towards me, lashing out with a robotic arm and sent me flying into a pile of rubbish, my whole head aching from where it hit. Seeming more interested in escape, it wasted no time and ran off at that inhuman speed. By the time I recovered the thing was too far away to pursue. 

It wasn't a failure, though. I had managed to get some James Bond-esque GPS device on him to track his movements. Which I'm now doing from my hotel room in a Timberwolf infested hotel in a Timberwolf infested city, in a Timberwolf infested country...

...hunting a Towerborn.

-Shady  

Friday 23 November 2012

Disruptions

I have nothing against Runners, I was one not long ago as anyone who reads this blog would know. My occupation as a Runner didn't last long, not as long as many others, although of course anyone who was a Runner for a shorter time is probably dead, and any who's one for a longer time probably will be.

Then of course there are the ones that are just plain annoying. The Long Game is going, and anything that disrupts it must be dealt with by the full force of The Nevermore Accord. Occasionally Runners fall into this category, and as an agent of the Sine Corda and by extension The Nevermore Accord, it falls under my job description to deal with them. Of course this isn't my true purpose, they didn't "recruit" me because I was a master assassin, but until the next phase can be located -whatever that means- this is what I do.

I hunt.

It's what I've been doing for most of the time between my de-heartening and now. My first mission should have been fairly simple. A Runner had killed one of the other Sine Corda, however and for whatever reason I don't bother myself with. I was dispatched to deal with him, but it didn't exactly go to plan.

I set out from the warehouse, one of many under Nevermore control, with a gun and a box of bullets. I wasn't invisible anymore, when I lost my heart I was spat back out by THE HUNGERING (the capitals didn't go away) and now exist as much as you do (unless of course you're being unraveled), the privilege of invisibility kept for higher members such as Master Nowhere and the Menacing Men. So I had to be discreet, keeping the gun concealed and catching the Runner somewhere private.

I found the Runner in a bar at the edge of this French town late at night. I entered, my senses immediately assaulted by the scent of alcohol and the smoke-filled air, not exactly being old enough to be used to this I found it slightly disorientated, though the nerves of walking around in full sight with a gun in my pocket and the intention to kill likely added to it. My teenaged physique earned me a few questioning glances, though my "Null Hoodie" kept my face mostly hidden and, I don't know, Sine Corda have an air about them, I suppose you could call it a Menacing. I guess that means I'm not quite as existent as I used to be. The Runner, thin, tall and suited (no, not Slenderman) was seated at the bar, so I found a dark corner where I could make use of my new found Menacing to glare angrily at the Runner while I waited for an opportunity.

This only came hours later when he finally left the bar, dispensing some coins on the counter and exited, me following at a distance. He left and rather stupidly decided to turn into a dark alleyway next to the bar, I thought he mustn't have been very used the being a Runner if he's walking through dark alleys late at night. I followed behind, the gun having a silencer so noise wouldn't be a problem, until we moved out of sight of the street. He turned around and looked at me.

I thought little of it as I drew the gun and shot him in the chest, knocking him down. Then he got back up, straight up as if he was being pulled. Pulled by invisible strings.

"Crap!" I exclaimed as I shot again, in the arm, his arm jolting back in response before sliding back into position. He rose the arm in a mechanical motion and observed it for a moment, before walking forward again, his legs being raised and dropped by the strings like some horrid puppet controlled by an even more horrid Puppeteer, his previous facade of normality dropped.

Several more shots resulting in nothing, the strings pulling the body forward beyond the boundaries of death, animating the corpse in its deadly movements. It swung an arm around, surprisingly swift and precise for a puppet, I ducked under, but its arm struck out at me again, swiping me across the head, knocking me to the ground. It reached into its jacket and pulled out a long knife. I raised my gun towards him to shoot the hand with the knife, but as quickly as I fired he skillfully juggled the knife to its other hand, then lifted a mechanical leg to strike the gun away with a finely polished shoe, the gun sliding over the wet concrete.

It raised the knife, clearly preparing to drive it down, when the strings spontaneously snapped and the corpse collapsed in a heap on top of me. I pushed it from me and although confused, counted my blessings and took this as a kill. Since then I've killed two actual Runners and am currently after something else. I still don't know what happened.

-Shady

Tuesday 20 November 2012

The Beginning of the End

I did not think I would be updating this again, it seems so futile now. But I realised that some may be interested in knowing what is happening, and a part of me wants to tell you. I shall relate to you the first part for now.

The men of The Nevermore Accord dragged me away from the room the day after I (not Sleeper) last updated. I was pulled to another room of the warehouse where I was drugged and strapped to an operating table. Terrified, confused and unable to think properly my vision was hazy and my memory more so. A pair of men wearing green scrubs and surgeons' masks entered the room, their eyes sunken and dead. They were followed by a "thing" pushing a small tray-table. It was human, maybe, two arms and two legs, but its face along with any other exposed skin was covered with every disease under the sun, oozing pustules and dark red rashes, eyelids only half open at any given time, pushed shut by growths covering its face. It walked hunched over, down to just over a metre off the ground, it wore white scrubs and a surgeon's mask. It shambled off after pushing it in. A Riddled, as Master Nowhere would later refer to it.

The men on the other hand, were Oathbreakers.

Master Nowhere whispered to the two men, and the two walked to either side of the operating table, one taking a syringe from the tray and injecting me with a viscous blue fluid. I lost consciousness after this, mostly.

I couldn't see, feel, nor hear anything (nor taste or smell, but people tend to forget about those senses), or more specifically, I could see, feel and hear nothing. It was simply pitch black for all my sense, yet I could still think, and knew it was more than just nothingness. It was...Nothingness, with a capital N. This lasted for an imperceptible amount of time, until one of my senses was stimulated, returning me to the stream of time, I could feel. I could feel Nothingness. It struck me in the chest, puncturing through my flesh and into my heart, from which its dark, smoky tendrils spread outwards, wisps of non-existence consuming me and my entire body. I could feel in more ways than one, I could feel different emotions drained away. I was being touched by THE HUNGERING, It was releasing me from my bonds, showing me the truth of all things, everything was open to me, I could see the universe, the numerous galaxies looking as but stars in my vision, distant, I saw everything from outside everything. Nothingness exists outside all things, lurking between universes and raging within black holes. Drawing all things to it, ever hungry, ever ending, yet never ending.

I awoke back in my room an unknown time after losing consciousness, my body still intact, a long, sloppily stitched wound over my chest. Master Nowhere standing over me.

"Welcome to the Sine Corda."        

Monday 12 November 2012

~~The End of the Beginning

I do not know if Shady will be posting again, I guess only time will tell. There is something extremely wrong now.

I do not know for how long I may maintain control, even being within Shady is taxing. Had I not grown in strength I would not be able to remain.

We of The Dying Man latch onto a host's soul, now something else is trying to occupy Shady's and I cannot compete with its power.

I must remain dormant for the time being if I am to survive. If I can regain control I shall.

Good slumber.~~

Thursday 8 November 2012

Being Played

So I ran. It went horribly.

Just not before the note was confirmed. I lurked by the door, having lifted a gun from the armoury, holding a crowbar in hand and all my stuff in a bag, I waited in my room for who ever may or may not come. I felt Sleepy was awake too. The door clicked open as I waited behind it, a figure slid through, a knife in hand. A grey haired and heavily bearded head coming into view, it was Analyst Beta, with clearly murderous intentions. I cracked him over the head with the crowbar and he crumpled to the ground. It was confirmed, I'm screwed.

I stepped over the unconscious heap and out the door. The hallway was empty as I sprinted down, my escape completely unhindered. Until a rounded a particular corner and came face to face with Analyst Beta again, well, an identical face at least. Theta moved towards me, a gun in hand, ready to kill me if I didn't kill him first, which I did. Firing my gun at him I struck him square between the eyes, there must be something supernatural about my aim, maybe Sleepy helps.

~~I do not.~~

Well in any case Theta was now dead and I ran to the nearest exit, an emergency one that opens to a staircase up into an alley way down the street of the archive (the normal one), the Archive must stretch quite a bit under ground. My escape went better than I had expected, I wish I hadn't had to kill Theta but there wasn't anything I could do. I got the best I could have hoped for: Not having to find my way out through a veritable army of Archivists. But my luck ran out instantly.

I emerged into the alley to come face to face with Master Nowhere.

"Hello again," came his voice in my head.

"Hi," I responded, nothing I could do now, I'm screwed.

Several other figures emerged from the shadows of the alley, wearing hoodies similar to Master Nowhere, except their ones had an image on the chest, a circle with a line through it. They advanced towards me with almost comic menacing.

"You should probably come with us now, you are prepared," he said.

"Prepared? For what?" I asked, "And while your answering questions why did you send information to both the Archive and the Timberwolves?"

"I can't answer the first one, not yet. The second one however, I sent the information to the Timberwolves to protect you. Apostles are important to THE FALLEN and the other Fears can't kill one without...incurring his wrath. Thus I informed them of your presence so that they could be present on the train and the Fear would not attack it, you didn't really think it was just technical difficulties did you?" Knew it! "Then I informed the Archive of your presence on the train to ensure your survival passed the Timberwolves own attack on the train, I need you alive, for now."

"But why send me to the Archive in the first place? And who left me that letter?"

I could feel his sigh in my head. "I sent you to the Archive so that you'd find out about The Sleeper and He'd grow stronger," ~~How kind of him.~~ "He's an important part of our plan. As for the letter, that was Scribe Theta, it was left to draw you out to be captured by me without alerting the rest of the Archive, that is why the rest of the employees are currently taking part in a fire drill, the sound of which I drowned out for you with my eldritch powers. Now," he said, swinging his hand and pointing at the end of the alley, "Let's go."

The Menacing Men led by Master Nowhere led me through the streets of Paris, rendered invisible by THE HUNGERING and finally bundled me into the back of a van that could only be described as "nondescript". Driving for a couple hours we ended up at an abandoned warehouse where I was led into an enclosed room with a bed, a toilet, and an excellent internet connection.

The note did say I was being played, I just didn't know I was being played by reading it. Things are getting interesting.

-Shady

Wednesday 7 November 2012

I Simply Don't Know

Well, it's odd having a "thing" inside me, controlling my actions, posting on my blog. But there isn't anything the Archive can do about it, so, since I'd rather I didn't spend the rest of my life in quarantine, I'm going to ignore him.

It is officially confirmed that THE HUNGERING did not erase the files, I don't know how, the Archive has its ways. Also, in other news, the Archive centre was attacked! From the inside. One of the Keepers started shooting people in the hallways, the other Keepers, Martyrs and Inquisitors took him down fast enough and took him to the infirmary to treat his wounds and then question him. 

When I returned to my room, I found a note on my bed.

 The Sine Corda want you because you can die.
Don't trust the Archive, they are with them.
You are being played, you must run. 
They will be here in one day. 
The Long Game never ends.

The Sine Corda want me because I can die. What the hell does that mean?! A lot of people can die. And the Archive are in league with the Sine Corda? If this is true, this is not good in the slightest. This also raises another good question, why did I name this blog The Long Game. I have no idea, I thought it would be cool but I don't have any reason for it. I've got a feeling I've been being set up for a long time. Played like a piece in a game. Why? What does the Sine Corda want with me and the Sleeper? What does Slenderman have to do with it, and THE RIPPER and THE FROST? And that's got THE FALLEN after me! And why the hell do I keep using alternate names of Fears in capital letters?! Bloody mind-fucked Fear lettering.

I don't know if I should run or not. If the Sine Corda and the Archive are working together than I definitely can't stay here. I have no idea what's going on anymore, I thought I did for a while there, now I'm just as confused as ever.

-Shady





Tuesday 6 November 2012

~~I Believe Introductions are in Order

It is strange how the universe works, is it not? Knowledge alters reality. What you do not know does not exist, until you know it and then it has existed since the beginning. He did not know I existed inside him and I slept for so long, I lay dormant within him and would have slept until death when I would find my way to another where I could continue. Now he knows of me, now he is aware of my existence and now this very knowledge, simply knowing that I exist, has stirred me. Of course this is an over simplification of the physical laws involved, but my very existence is testimony against the utter accuracy of the physical laws believed by humans.

You may refer to me as The Sleeper and I am what you people refer to as the Dying Man. For convenience I will keep my speech confined to between the ~~'s, as no one shall ever say I am not considerate. I am far too tired to be much of a nuisance and I despise the stereotype that we are all, as Shady so delicately put it, Cosmic Abominations. Some of us only wish to continue, just as you do. This is not to say I do not have other desires, but they are none of your concern. I shall retire for now, if anyone here desires to communicate with me comment here and I shall seize control whensoever I can and if I so desire, I shall respond.

Also, before Shady asks, I do not know why the Nevermore Accord wants me, or you[Shady]. You may not edit this post, I prefer to keep my work away from human influence.

Good slumber.~~

Sunday 4 November 2012

Answers and Questions

By now you've probably come to the fairly obvious conclusion that I am currently a host to a fragment of THE DECAY. You're probably thinking: "How could you be a host to THE DECAY, you're not even decaying!" Well, I asked this very same question.

"It's weak," replied Analyst Beta through the intercom as I sat in the quarantine area, the white walls making it look more like an Insane Asylum, "The weakest fragment I've ever seen, or heard of. It doesn't seems capable of exerting much control over you or effecting your body to any significant degree."

"So, is the fragment why I was blacking out? When I encountered THE FROST and Master Nowhere, and maybe Slenderman, though I'd probably put that up to just being Slenderman."

"No, not as far as we can tell. When a fragment takes control it shows signs, altered brain waves, bodily decay, no signs of it ever having taken control are present."

"So there's still something else weird about me. Great." I muttered, the relief of knowing what's wrong with me rapidly fading, "Any ideas how this makes me important to Master Nowhere and the "non-existent" Nevermore Accord, because trust me, being non-existent doesn't make you not real." I laughed slightly.

"No idea. Some larger fragments seek to absorb other weaker ones into them, but this one is hardly worth all the effort Master Nowhere and the other PRE's are putting into finding you," he replied, "Meanwhile, the Nevermore Accord remains unknown to all of our operatives and databases."

"Have you tried asking...Him," I asked innocently, "You know, the man upstairs. Or downstairs, if you're talking geographically."

"The Grandfather? No. He usually doesn't give US information on other Fears and their operations, though I have filed a report to Archive Central. He's reads those for information, if He does have information he wishes to disclose, then He'll do so."

"And if He has information He doesn't wish to disclose? Sorry for being mistrusting, but He's still evil," I said, hoping there wouldn't be any repercussions for saying it in the presence of an Archivist.

"If He doesn't wish to disclose information, He won't," he said, I could see him packing up his things through the observation window, "And whether you believe He's evil or not, He's our Grandfather."

With that he left, leaving me alone in the quarantine chamber. I played some space invaders and read some Fear Blogs to pass the time before going to sleep. They put me in here when they discovered THE DECAY was inside me, they're keeping me for observation until later today when they're sure the fragment is too weak to gain control.

Scribe Theta came in a while ago, with an expression of confusion and worry.

"What's wrong?" I asked, pressing the button for communication.

"The files, on Master Nowhere, they're gone," he said, "Archive Central reported a complete absence of his mention in their entire database. The same happened to the report on the Nevermore Accord, Archive Central denies ever receiving them. Something's wrong, because they reported receipt of them yesterday!"

"What does this mean?"

"I don't know, but someone, or something has completely removed the files from the entire Archive network! No one can do that, we have the best computer security system on the planet!"

"Clearly someone can do it," I replied, "And if anyone could do that, they'd have to be in the Archive."

"Exactly," he replied, "We have a spy. The Keepers are going nuts!" He paced back and forth for a moment, "That's not all," he finally said, before pressing a button in the observation room and calling for someone by the name of Infiltrator Gamma. Infiltrators are a special brand of Collectors who infiltrate other Fear groups for information. A couple seconds later the door to quarantine opened and a man with light brown hair and beard enters, IΓ sown onto his shirt. He was flanked by two keepers.

He held two tape recorders and set them both on my table. "This is the call made to the Timberwolves, the source of their information about your train." came Theta's voice, "And the other is OUR contact about it."

Gamma pressed both buttons simultaneously and the same voice came over both. Master Nowhere.

"Are you sure it's him?" asked Theta. "Of course, his voice was in my head," I snapped, "I'd know it any where. Wh- why would he be contacting both organisations about me?"

"We don't know," he replied, "We'll look into it."

They all left, with the two tape recorders, leaving me with my thoughts and a massive conspiracy.

-Shady

Friday 2 November 2012

Dying Man

I was the only one there when my grandfather died, my grandmother had passed away years before. I went to visit my grandfather with my parents every month, 2nd Thursday, January to December, each year. So long ago now. We'd go out and play games, childish games. I'd hide in the woods and he'd lurk around after me, searching for me and inevitably finding me, hiding in the hollow of an old oak tree. It was once so vibrant, the tree, leaves covering the thing most of the year. Somehow it never lost its leaves in Winter, sure they'd discolour, its discarded foliage littering the ground of the clearing where it resided, transforming it to gold and brown. But its branches always looked so full.

But each year a little more leaves would be lost, a little more green would fade, a little less leaves would return when Spring dawned. Each year, the tree would die a little more, and my grandfather would do the same. He grew older, of course he did, but I was young, I knew these things happened but not why. I simply couldn't understand why every time I visited he'd walk a little slower, he'd cough a little more, his eyes would sink a little deeper.

The oak tree had no leaves last time I visited, it hadn't all year, it had aged so fast. Trees were supposed to last hundreds of years. They're supposed to take years and years to die, not a few months. Why didn't it work the same for humans? This time it did, but not the way one would want. The tree was gnarled, the bark damp and black. And my grandfather was barely able to walk after me through the woods, I fled into the damp hollow of the dying tree, containing my laughter, believing as I always did that this time he'd never find me. He never did.

His legs passed by the small hollow, where my young body was huddled, my knees pressed to my chest to conceal myself within. He had stopped outside, the sound of his hand coming to rest on the bark of the tree with a soft thud above me. He dropped to his knees, before his torso flopped over to rest on the lifeless soil, his hand clutching a clump of shirt just over his chest. I crawled out slowly, thinking he must have slipped, or tripped. It couldn't have been anything more serious.

He had done it. He had taken as long as a tree to die, but the tree was dead now too. I grabbed his hand, and he grabbed it back, he wasn't a dead man, simply a dying man. He pulled me closer, trying to pull his head towards me but unable. He simply whispered to me where he lay, whispered his dying words, words I'd file away in my sub-conscious, unimportant and forgotten.

"Let me in."

-Shady

Archive-ception!

We arrived at the Archive Centre yesterday evening. The building was under the guise of, guess what, an archive. Really original. The front of the building is full of old books and documents about this part of Paris, where ever this part of Paris is, I wasn't really paying attention. I know the street, from my messages with Scribe Theta (they won't let me tell anyone), but I couldn't give directions if I wanted to. I can see the good ol' Eiffel Tower from here, but that can be seen from anywhere in Paris if movies are to be believed.

Epsilon and Upsilon guided me through the stacks of books and documents to the back section where the The Archive was. I was introduced to Scribe Theta, an aged man with grey hair and a bushy beard, and the head the Paris Archive, Analyst Beta, an aged man with grey hair and a bushy beard. They were twins, and made no attempt to make it possible to discern between them apart from the monogram on their uniforms, over the left breast.

'SΘ' for Scribe Theta.                                                                                                 'Aβ' for Analyst Beta. 

I was taken down an elevator to some James Bond-esque underground lair. Fortunately they don't take all of their master's habits, like hanging out in Catacombs. The place looks much like the above ground part of the Archive, despite being a basement it's well lit and well dusted. No spiders in here -bone spiders on the other hand, hopefully not. I was introduced to a small room with another rough cot that seems a lot like the warehouse 'bedroom'.

They certainly don't waste time because after only a few minutes Scribe Theta returned and took me to the infirmary for the medical tests. A blood sample was taken, I got an MRI, another thing that was kind of like an MRI but wasn't in a thick black scanner with lots of science-fiction blinking lights, put into a chamber and bombarded with some kind of radiation, injected with various liquids and fluids, and numerous other tests, I'm surprised I'm not dead from the chemicals and drugs. They're certainly thorough I can say that, but the whole ordeal left me exhausted.

I awoke this morning for a few more tests. They had to test my reaction to some of the previous tests, such as the injections, and if I was still medically sound from radiation exposure, chemical poisoning, blah blah blah. Now I'm left to wait for the final results in the waiting room, they got me a nice new laptop to update this blog. Apart from all the poking and prodding and the service to a monstrous evil, they're nice people.

Analyst Beta told me about how he and his brother are Gifted, they got the memories of another's childhood after theirs were stolen by THE UNSEER. The funny thing is, they got each others' memories, so there wasn't much of a problem integrating the new memories because they were already a part of them and have identical appearances.

It'll be a while yet, I'll probably head for the cafeteria for lunch. See you later.

-Shady



Thursday 1 November 2012

Happy Late Halloween!

Sorry I didn't wish everyone a happy Halloween yesterday, thus, I have done it now.

Epsilon, Upsilon and I are in the car and on our way to Paris. Upsilon is very disgruntled, no reason I can see, just an angry man in general. He doesn't talk much, and most of what he says is grumbled under his breath angrily. I don't think he like me very much, I think he blames me for the Timberwolf trouble, which may or may not be my fault, but it's not like I asked for this. He also mistrusts me, due his primary suspicion that I have a Dying Man piece inside me, aka. the "something very special". This has crossed my mind too, but I'm not jumping to conclusions, especially as a fragment of THE DECAY tends to show signs of its presence by decaying the host body. I'm fine as far as I'm aware; apart from the arm wounds, bullet hole and minor burns. And the non-existence thing.

Epsilon on the other hand is very friendly and talkative, ignoring Upsilon's angry mumblings and is the source of most of the communication between I and the facts of the Archive. She told me about multiple other Fears, the few that I haven't encountered, from the Black Dog, to the Unnamed Child; and UXPs (Unexplained Phenomena -which I find an odd name seeing as the Fears are no more explained as a phenomena) such as Jack of All, and the Bleeding Tree.

Data can be found here at The Archive.

Not much else to report for the moment, shouldn't be too long more to Paris, we'll be stopping in another small town as a pit stop shortly. I'll keep you posted.

-Shady