We are really, really far from home.
Past few days have been spent driving westward. Apparently we had a holiday somewhere in that time, because the day after we left 330 pulled into a Barnes and Nobles parking lot as we were passing through Louisiana, bought a book called Foundation, said Merry Christmas, and handed it to me. I guess I really need to start paying more attention to the dates. Just wish I could have bought something for her as well, but right now, she’s the only one who actually has any money….
Anyways, driving west for the past few days. 330’s been doing most of it; I’m a bit rusty behind the wheel. Haven’t driven a car since high school. Never could afford one, and my parents weren’t exactly too keen on letting me learn how to drive…. Still, I couldn’t let her do all the work, so I took over for some of the easier roads.
First road trip I’ve ever gone on. It was… interesting. We went southwest until we hit the southern coastal states, then westward. Took us a few days to get through Texas. Lord that place is big. Finally reached New Mexico, which was the location of… wherever 330 was taking us.
And that brings us to the part that I think most will be interested in. We had to stop to rent a humvee before doing anything else. And, after acquiring a vehicle with four wheel drive, we went into the desert, following a small dirt path which branched off from the main road. A desert which was freezing cold and which had a snowstorm blowing through it, proving definitively that my imagination has been lying to me concerning what a desert is supposed to be like. Didn’t see a single tumbleweed or cow skull out there. Just a lot of snow and sand, with stubby shrubs scattered across the landscape. Also cactuses. I have painful memories of cactuses camouflaged by snow drifts that I will likely never forget.
We drove through that desert for hours, snow whipping around us. I couldn’t see anything, so I had to trust that 330 knew where she was going. Apparently she did; after the third hour, we reached a concrete building jutting out from a stone cliff face. I wouldn’t have seen it if 330 hadn’t pointed it out; it had been almost entirely covered in sand, with a fresh layer of snow further hiding it. Not an elaborate building, either: just a squat, square concrete thing with a single metal door. Both of us ran from the car to the door, hoping to get inside before we froze to death in the storm. Luckily the door was unlocked, so we weren’t stuck outside. The interior was pitch black, and freezing cold, but at least it was sheltered from the wind. 330 flicked a switch somewhere, causing a single light on the ceiling to flicker on. A really dim light, which barely illuminated the air around it; we had to resort to using flashlights to really get a look at the room.
Place appeared to be some kind of reception room, with another metal door at the opposite end. Unlike the first, this one looked ridiculously sturdy, as if it could withstand a bomb blast. Dust was floating in the air, reflecting the light from our flashlight beams. There was a computer behind the reception desk; 330 turned it on, but the screen flashed distorted text and shut down after a few seconds.
“330, what is this place?”
“Used to be a research facility for the Scoobies, back when Jacob was in charge. When I was reading through the info Jacob had at his home, I saw that, about six years after Lupine took over, they’d been forced to abandon the entire place in a hurry. Which means….” As she spoke, she tried unsuccessfully pulling on the door, “there’s a chance they left behind classified material in their rush.” She pulled again, harder, and I could hear rusted metal straining. Another pull, and the door creaked open. Causing a skeleton to fall out from behind it.
I screamed. Very loudly and in a very girly tone. 330 just kneeled next to it so she could examine it better.
“Interesting…. Picked completely clean…. Shouldn’t be any animals inside that could do that….”
“THAT’S A SKELETON!”
“Yes Lisa, yes it is. And there’s no damage to the bones, either….”
“IT’S A FUCKING SKELETON! A HUMAN SKELETON!”
“”Yes. One from a person who died over a decade ago. The thing that killed it is probably long gone.” 330 stood up, and looked thoughtfully through the opened door into the further blackness. “Probably, anyways.”
Oh, 330.You always know just the right thing to say in order to completely fail to encourage me.
I was rather adamant about not going in after seeing that. A dark, abandoned CIA research facility in the middle of the desert with skeletons inside? I could tell that there was no way that it was going to end well. Then 330 took my hand, and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll be right here with you. And I promise, as long as I’m with you, I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Maybe it was the way she said it, or the way she was smiling while she said it, or even just the fact that she’d proven in the past that she did kinda know what she was doing, but that actually made me feel better. Though that didn’t mean I let go of her hand.
The next room was much smaller than the first: all that was in it was a very rickety service elevator. Since that was the only thing there, we got on, and 330 pulled a lever. And we went down.
And down.
And down.
And down.
Wish I’d had a watch to keep track of how long we were on that elevator. Felt like over an hour, but 330 said it was only forty minutes. I think I’ll listen to her opinion on matters of concerning time.
When the elevator reached the bottom of the shaft, lights automatically came on. Still dim, but at least flashlights weren’t absolutely necessary to see. Did help to have them, though. Three more skeletons were at the bottom, just a few feet from where the elevator stopped. Gripped 330’s hand tighter as we walked by them.
Concrete walls, low ceiling, and dust so thick I felt like I was choking on it. Wonderful. And the skeletons scattered around only added to the tomb like feeling. Always full skeletons; never individual bones. That was a bit odd.
330 led the way, ignoring the bones. Occasionally we’d pass by a hallway or a door, and she would shine her flashlight at it. But after a brief look, we’d continue moving on.
The place she was looking for was marked “Archives.” Another poorly lit room, with a desk at front and rows of filing cabinets behind. A skeleton was sitting at a chair, skull slumped down onto the desk. It was the cabinets which interested 330, and she quickly started to search through them, while I stood by the entrance with the skeleton as company. Can’t say it was the best conversationalist.
Started looking at some of the nearby cabinets. Pretty generically marked: “Aa-Ab,” and so on. Heard something crunch beneath my feet as I was walking by, and my first thought was that I had stepped on a bone; but when I looked down, turned out I had stepped on the largest centipede I’d ever seen in my life. Half of it was crushed, and the other half was still wriggling under my foot…. Almost shouted (again,) but was cut off when I heard 330 loudly sneeze. She’d opened up one of the cabinets, releasing a massive cloud of dust which completely obscured her face for a moment.
“Found something,” she said while sniffling, “not much, but something. Let’s keep moving.”
We left the archives, 330 holding several files under her arm, and continued to walk deeper into the bunker. More long corridors, more flickering lights, more dead bodies. Wish I could say that after a while I started to grow used to it, but that would be a lie. Few minutes later, we came across the most impressive door I had seen thus far, and given the place’s tendency towards monstrously secure doors, that was saying a lot. Huge, thick slabs of steel blocked our path, barring any attempt to pass through.
Until 330 just pushed it open.
“Not locked. Weird.”
The room beyond the door was very different than the rest of the facility. No more concrete hallways, no more low hanging ceilings. No bodies, either; can’t say I missed that. This was a large, round room, which looked like it had been carved out of the stone around it. In the very center, there was a hole in the ground. 330 shined her flashlight down it, but I couldn’t see the bottom. Another service elevator was at the edge of the hole, so we took it down.
Another long trip down. Asked 330 after how long it was, but she said she didn’t know, which was a bit disconcerting. Even darker down there; our flashlights could only illuminate a few feet ahead of us.
The ground was rocky, more like a cave than an artificial construction. And in the very center of the circle was…. This is going to take some work to describe.
It looked like a tear, or a rip, in… the air? This was floating, without any support. And… I couldn’t call it a crack. Cracks are smaller. Then… um… it was white… and black. Not alternating colors, or anything like that. When I looked at it, the tear looked as if it was glowing white, but also black. At the same time. And from whatever angle I stood from it, the same side faced me….
“Oh, those fucking idiots,” was 330’s response to seeing it.
Had the first syllables of a question for her out of my mouth when I felt something buzz by my face. Turned my flashlight in that direction, and saw a fly going by. Then a wasp flew after it. Felt something crawling on my feet; looked down, and saw a huge spider. Kicked it off my foot, only to see two more crawling out of the shadows.
“330….” I called to her, but she was focused on the tear. “330!” Finally got her attention. She turned her flashlight around, showing insects all over the floor, with more coming each second.
Took her only a moment to respond, stomping down on a group of cockroaches which were coming near her. “Back to the elevator!”
Ran back, jumping over groups of insects. Got onto the elevator, and 330 pulled the switch. For a second, it moved up, only to stutter to a halt. 330 and I aimed our flashlights upward, just in time to see a horde of scorpions crawling down the cable. A few fell off, landing at our feet. I swear, those things were much larger than they should have been. One looked as long as my forearm….
We ran off the elevator, but the insects were still swarming on the ground there. Didn’t look like we had any way out.
330 pulled out a gun, and aimed it upwards. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m preparing to break several laws of physics.” She fired, and a hook with a rope attached shot out, into the darkness above us. “Specifically those concerning length and carrying strength of rope. Now hold on!”
She grabbed onto me, and pulled the trigger, causing the grappling gun to pull us up. The journey up somehow felt much shorter than the one down… or maybe that was just the adrenaline. Got out of the hole, back into the circular room…. And saw the floor completely covered in a writhing mass of insects. I couldn’t hope to name all of them; didn’t even recognize what a lot were. They surged towards us, crawling across the floor faster than such small creatures should have. In the air, more flew at us, and a few stung my face as I tried desperately to swat them away. I could hear 330 shouting to keep moving, and I tried, jumping across the floor after her, hearing crunches with every landing, trying to kick off the things crawling up my legs, flailing my arms around the air, trying to ignore the growing number of stings and bites I was feeling all over my legs and arms. Things cleared up some when we got out of the room into the hallway, but when I looked back, I could see the swarm following behind us. Kept running after 330, retracing the route we’d used to get in, trying to keep ahead of the mass of creatures pursuing us.
We were about halfway back when 330 suddenly stopped, keeping her flashlight leveled ahead. There was nothing but blackness there, which at first I thought was only the dark. But… then I realized that it was another swarm, so densely packed it looked like an oncoming wall of blackness. Looked back, and the original swarm was there, still pursuing. The sound of all those insects…. Millions of feet scittering across the floor, and millions of wings buzzing in the air…. It drowned out near everything, creating a noise which drilled through my head. 330 sprinted down a side passage, and I followed, having absolutely no idea where we were now heading. Kept running through the concrete halls, struggling to keep up with 330. So focused on keeping running that I hurdled over a skeleton without a moment of hesitation.
We ran into a room; didn’t pause to read what was written on the door. 330 slammed the metal door shut, and set every lock she could find on it. Just a second later, the swarm hit the door, and that solid metal door shook from the weight of numbers slamming into it. But it held.
Had to steady myself against a wall. Felt dizzy. And all those stings were burning viciously….
Looked around, and saw guns. Quite a lot of guns. More guns than I have ever seen in one place before in my entire life. It… looks like we found the armory, I guess. There was another skeleton here as well, with a hole going through its skull and a pistol in its lap. First one I’d seen with a clear sign of death on it.
While 330 was looking over the assembly of weapons, I started asking her questions.
“What was that? I’ve never seen so many bugs!”
“It’s the Intrusion. One of the Fears. The whole swarm is one entity, singular in mind. I’m guessing it’s what wiped out this facility.”
“Then… did it come through that tear… thing… or something?”
“More likely it was attracted here by it. Then stuck around in order to guard it from stupid people like us who got too inquisitive.”
“What was that tear, anyways?”
“Nothing.”
“No, I know it was something. Don’t tell me something that weird is just nothing.”
“No. Really. It’s Nothing. A part of the universe torn apart, leaving a gash of pure nothingness behind. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. Ooh, bingo!”
That last part had nothing to do with the question; apparently, she found what she was looking for. 330 lifted up a gas tank with a hose like thing attached to it. She strapped the tank on her back, pointed the hose at a blank wall, and pulled a trigger. Fire shot out, scorching the wall.
“And still in working order! They really don’t build ‘em like they used to!”
“Is… is that a flamethrower?” My incredulity knew no bounds.
“Indeed. There’s one for you in there as well. Oh, don’t look at me like that. That swarm is blocking the only way out of this place, so unless you want to be stuck here forever, we need a way to get out. And even I would probably run out of things to do locked in a room with another girl and a skeleton by the fifth day, so I vote we get the hell out of here.”
Didn’t argue with her. Feeling a bit ridiculous, I put on the flamethrower (which, I’ll add, are incredibly heavy,) and nervously stood wait by the door as she slowly unlocked it. Last lock removed, and the door was thrown open by the Intrusion, which swarmed inside. It was met by two jets of flames.
With only the small door to enter through, the two of us were enough to roast anything that tried to enter. Could hear a shrieking sound filling the air as we burned them, unlike anything an insect should have made. Didn’t last long; when we stopped, only a few bugs were still flying, and the ground was covered in their charred remains. Path was clear, and we ran, fast as we could with those cumbersome tanks on our backs, towards the exit.
Only a few minutes had passed before I heard the buzzing behind us again. Turned around and saw another swarm coming at us. Shot some fire at it, then kept running. Breathing was getting harder, and my vision started blurring. 330 was firing at a swarm coming down another hall when she saw me falling behind. She shouted… something at me. Couldn’t hear anything but the buzzing. Gets blurrier the further I go…. Felt someone, I’m assuming 330, pull the tank off my back, and put my arm around her shoulder. Then I remember being back on the elevator out of the place, watching 330 trying to beat away more flying bugs with her hands. Don’t know what happened to her flamethrower. Everything else is too blurry.
Woke up on a bed in a hotel room. 330 was sitting on a chair next to me; nearly tackle hugged me when she saw I was waking up.
“You’re okay!” Huge smile on her face. “You should be grateful I’m a time traveler. No one else would have been able to get all the anti-toxins you needed in time, you know. Just try not to get almost killed so often, please?”
“Yeah, sure…. I’ll do that…. Just as soon as you stop taking me to dangerous places….”
She laughed, a bit too grimly for my liking. “No promises on that, sorry. Just rest up for now; we’ll hold off leaving until you feel better.” Then she kissed me on the cheek and left the room.
Well, that was definitely the most dangerous holiday season I have ever gone through. Even worse than spending time with my family as a kid. By a little.
-Lisa
Friday, December 30, 2011
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Road Trip
Another day, another morning starting with 330 throwing a suitcase on my bed with instructions to get ready for an adventure.
Seems we’re going on a road trip westward. Don’t have any more details than that, except that 330 claims that she’s “got a plan.” Well, that’s great. Maybe one day I’ll figure out what this plan is.
At least she’s in a good mood. Almost treating it more like an actual road trip than part of a plan to do something to stop some guy with a ridiculous sounding name’s evil plot to summon a monster which, as far as I can tell, is already here and therefore not exactly in need of summoning.
Well, this is going to be interesting. If any of you need me, you will likely fine me cowering behind 330 as she does something completely insane.
-Lisa
Seems we’re going on a road trip westward. Don’t have any more details than that, except that 330 claims that she’s “got a plan.” Well, that’s great. Maybe one day I’ll figure out what this plan is.
At least she’s in a good mood. Almost treating it more like an actual road trip than part of a plan to do something to stop some guy with a ridiculous sounding name’s evil plot to summon a monster which, as far as I can tell, is already here and therefore not exactly in need of summoning.
Well, this is going to be interesting. If any of you need me, you will likely fine me cowering behind 330 as she does something completely insane.
-Lisa
Friday, December 23, 2011
I Feel Like There Should be Some Kind of Time Paradoxes Going on Here
That was a weird post to find on my blog. Especially because I was pretty sure that 330 had been too busy sulking on our couch to be running around West Virginia blowing stuff up.
Talked to her about it; she said it was her from the past who made the post. More exactly, her words were,
“Oh, that’s just Past Me running off and being a reckless idiot again. Never thinking of the consequences; I mean, seriously? Jump into a place, drop a bunch of explosives on some random creatures, and run off calling it a job well done? Doesn’t even stay long enough to realize the problems she’s caused.”
Actually, no, that’s not her exact words. That’s a toned down version of the angry rant which she was shouting for several minutes.
Then 330 walked into her room, only to come out a few moments later holding a rifle.
“Well, time for me to clean up her mess.”
Around that time was when I felt it was appropriate to ask, “Okay, what the hell is a night gaunt?”
“Another little species in our menagerie of beasties. Winged, horned, faceless, things that fly quieter than physics should allow.”
“Faceless?”
“No relation to the Slender Man. Never seen one in a suit. And they lack its immunity to bullets. Also they tickle people into submission.”
“Tickle?”
“Yes. Seriously. It’s far more menacing than it sounds, I swear.”
“Okay…. But when you said cleaning up… what did you mean?”
“Well, I expect that the night gaunts won’t be too pleased at someone blowing them up for no reason they can see. They might consider taking out that anger on some of the locals, which is something I can’t really allow. Hopefully I’ll be able to talk them down. If not, well, that’s what the rifle is for.”
“But…. That post said she was in West Virginia. That’s still a long drive away, even if it is the next state.”
“Who said anything about driving?”
And then she vanished.
Two hours later, 330 showed up at my door, covered in black blood. Freaked out for a moment, until she assured me that it wasn’t her blood.
“Turns out, the night gaunts weren’t exactly in the mood for being talked down. Should be taken care of, though.”
Strangest thing about it all, in spite of her apparently having failed at what she set out to do… 330 looked happier than she has in a while. Like all she needed to let off this stress was to go outside the house and shoot things.
That really doesn’t sound like a healthy way to deal with stress, honestly.
-Lisa
Talked to her about it; she said it was her from the past who made the post. More exactly, her words were,
“Oh, that’s just Past Me running off and being a reckless idiot again. Never thinking of the consequences; I mean, seriously? Jump into a place, drop a bunch of explosives on some random creatures, and run off calling it a job well done? Doesn’t even stay long enough to realize the problems she’s caused.”
Actually, no, that’s not her exact words. That’s a toned down version of the angry rant which she was shouting for several minutes.
Then 330 walked into her room, only to come out a few moments later holding a rifle.
“Well, time for me to clean up her mess.”
Around that time was when I felt it was appropriate to ask, “Okay, what the hell is a night gaunt?”
“Another little species in our menagerie of beasties. Winged, horned, faceless, things that fly quieter than physics should allow.”
“Faceless?”
“No relation to the Slender Man. Never seen one in a suit. And they lack its immunity to bullets. Also they tickle people into submission.”
“Tickle?”
“Yes. Seriously. It’s far more menacing than it sounds, I swear.”
“Okay…. But when you said cleaning up… what did you mean?”
“Well, I expect that the night gaunts won’t be too pleased at someone blowing them up for no reason they can see. They might consider taking out that anger on some of the locals, which is something I can’t really allow. Hopefully I’ll be able to talk them down. If not, well, that’s what the rifle is for.”
“But…. That post said she was in West Virginia. That’s still a long drive away, even if it is the next state.”
“Who said anything about driving?”
And then she vanished.
Two hours later, 330 showed up at my door, covered in black blood. Freaked out for a moment, until she assured me that it wasn’t her blood.
“Turns out, the night gaunts weren’t exactly in the mood for being talked down. Should be taken care of, though.”
Strangest thing about it all, in spite of her apparently having failed at what she set out to do… 330 looked happier than she has in a while. Like all she needed to let off this stress was to go outside the house and shoot things.
That really doesn’t sound like a healthy way to deal with stress, honestly.
-Lisa
December 23, 2011-West Virginia
197
Have I ever mentioned how weird it feels to be working in this timezone? Because it feels pretty fucking weird.
Thanks to Grendel being kind enough to monologue his entire plan to me, I now have gained a new objective to my list: prevent him from getting holes in between the real world and the Dreamlands. So, let’s start with night gaunts. They’re a species with a presence on both sides, and some of them were with Grendel last I saw him. Solution? Go to the past and blow them up before they can do anything to help him.
Biggest gathering of them I could find in this timezone was in some West Virginian forests. My originally plan involved getting my hands on a military bomber, then riding the bomb down to the target while shouting “YEE-HA!” but eventually settled on just stocking up on an obscene amount of C4 and blowing the entire place to hell.
Did I end up using twice as many explosives as was really necessary? Maybe.
Was it still awesome? Hell yeah.
Not staying here long to write the details about this. The less time I spend in this period, the better. Soon as I post this, I’m heading off somewhere nice. Like Venice, circa 1200 AD.
I-330
Have I ever mentioned how weird it feels to be working in this timezone? Because it feels pretty fucking weird.
Thanks to Grendel being kind enough to monologue his entire plan to me, I now have gained a new objective to my list: prevent him from getting holes in between the real world and the Dreamlands. So, let’s start with night gaunts. They’re a species with a presence on both sides, and some of them were with Grendel last I saw him. Solution? Go to the past and blow them up before they can do anything to help him.
Biggest gathering of them I could find in this timezone was in some West Virginian forests. My originally plan involved getting my hands on a military bomber, then riding the bomb down to the target while shouting “YEE-HA!” but eventually settled on just stocking up on an obscene amount of C4 and blowing the entire place to hell.
Did I end up using twice as many explosives as was really necessary? Maybe.
Was it still awesome? Hell yeah.
Not staying here long to write the details about this. The less time I spend in this period, the better. Soon as I post this, I’m heading off somewhere nice. Like Venice, circa 1200 AD.
I-330
Monday, December 19, 2011
Nightmares
Couldn’t sleep last night. Lot on my mind.
It was something like, 3, maybe 4, in the morning when I thought I heard a scream from 330’s room. This was the first time... ever, I think, that she had gone to sleep before me. I’d always been sound asleep by the time she left the living room, and she was always up before me; sometimes I had to really wonder if she ever actually slept in the room I’d given her.
When I went out into the hallway, I could see light coming from under her door. No more screams, but I could hear what sounded like muffled words from inside. Slowly, I pushed the door open, and peeked inside.
330 was still in bed, but tossing and turning constantly. Occasionally she’d murmur some quiet words, or a short scream. Looked like a bad dream…. I whispered her name, and while she didn’t wake up, she calmed down. Stopped turning, and looked to be peacefully sleeping. Almost looked… kinda cute, even in spite of the eye patch and the scars.
She’d left the lights on before going to bed, so I flicked it off before leaving. The instant the lights went out, 330 really screamed. Next moment, still in the dark, I felt someone grab my throat and lift me into the air while squeezing the breath out of me. Lights came on, letting me see: 330 was holding my neck with her bandaged arm, while he right hand had turned on the lights. I’d talked about 330 being angry before, but…. Nothing, nothing compared to the rage which was etched into her face at that moment.
I think it took her a moment to realize who I was; when she did, she immediately let go of me. Heard her apologizing, over and over. I… didn’t stay to talk about it. Just ran back to my room as soon as I could stand again.
What happened there?
At least I now know not to try to turn off the lights while she’s sleeping….
-Lisa
It was something like, 3, maybe 4, in the morning when I thought I heard a scream from 330’s room. This was the first time... ever, I think, that she had gone to sleep before me. I’d always been sound asleep by the time she left the living room, and she was always up before me; sometimes I had to really wonder if she ever actually slept in the room I’d given her.
When I went out into the hallway, I could see light coming from under her door. No more screams, but I could hear what sounded like muffled words from inside. Slowly, I pushed the door open, and peeked inside.
330 was still in bed, but tossing and turning constantly. Occasionally she’d murmur some quiet words, or a short scream. Looked like a bad dream…. I whispered her name, and while she didn’t wake up, she calmed down. Stopped turning, and looked to be peacefully sleeping. Almost looked… kinda cute, even in spite of the eye patch and the scars.
She’d left the lights on before going to bed, so I flicked it off before leaving. The instant the lights went out, 330 really screamed. Next moment, still in the dark, I felt someone grab my throat and lift me into the air while squeezing the breath out of me. Lights came on, letting me see: 330 was holding my neck with her bandaged arm, while he right hand had turned on the lights. I’d talked about 330 being angry before, but…. Nothing, nothing compared to the rage which was etched into her face at that moment.
I think it took her a moment to realize who I was; when she did, she immediately let go of me. Heard her apologizing, over and over. I… didn’t stay to talk about it. Just ran back to my room as soon as I could stand again.
What happened there?
At least I now know not to try to turn off the lights while she’s sleeping….
-Lisa
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Answers
We got home yesterday. Feels weird. I’d never left my house for that long before.
The drive was a bit tense. 330’s been in an angry mood ever since Jacob’s death. Barely said anything. A few miles into the drive, I saw that Slender Man thing standing on some trees by the road. My heart leaped into my throat… and 330 just flipped it the bird and kept driving.
Not long after we got back, she pulled me aside and said, “I know you’ve got a lot of questions now. I’ll answer them tomorrow.”
Wait, really? Seriously? I-330, actually answering my questions about what’s going on? Did I just fall into some strange bizarro world?
Wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass, surprising as it was. Stayed up for hours trying to think of everything I could ask her. The list I made was several pages long, so I then had to spend the next few hours editing it down to the really important ones, as I’d rather not spend the next few weeks questioning her.
Next morning, she actually came through with the promise, and this is what I got out from her:
-So… you’re really a time traveler?
“Yes, I’m really a time traveler. No, I do not have a time machine. I am capable of moving myself through spacetime without need of external support. No, I cannot explain how I do it to you, as that would first require explaining relativistic and quantum physics, and we don’t have the several months needed for me to teach that.”
-If you can travel through time, couldn’t you have saved Peter and Jacob-
She turned away, and I heard a low snarl coming from her. Okay, definitely the wrong question for me to ask. For a moment, I thought she was going to call off the entire thing.
“No. I couldn’t. Next question.”
Tried to think of something that wouldn’t be as volatile a question.
-Who’s Grendel?
Bad choice. Could see her tense up even more.
“Next question.”
Had to be something I could ask her without causing such a reaction….
-What was that door you went through last month? You went in, and came out with the book that you used to figure out what we needed to do next.
“It was a door to the Library. Past Me wrote a post about it earlier on your blog. It’s a semi-sentient dimension consisting of a gigantic library complex. The Library contains everything that has, will be, or could be written. If you enter it, it will direct you to the knowledge which you are looking for. However, it doesn’t take kindly to anyone stealing from it, and tends to kill most who try to do so. Which is why I try not to use it very often; that’s only the third time I’ve ever taken a book from it. Still haven’t figured out if it’s an extension of the Empty City, or its own dimension.”
-Wait, what’s the Empty City?
“A sentient, highly malevolent eldritch dimension which takes the form of a vast, ever-changing city.”
-Alright…. Then, these monster things…. How many are there?
“Too many. There’s the regular, bump in the dark alleyway type. Tons of those; entire species, spread across the globe. Like ghouls. Most living in industrialized areas tend to lay low; easier to survive that way. It’s when you get outside civilization that they become a real problem. Then there’s the monstrous, planet eating variety that are laying dormant everywhere. Like Dagon, before Innsmouth was razed in the 50s. Way too many of those type for my comfort. A lot of resources go into making sure they stay asleep. Then there’s the eldritch god variety: deity like beings, often from other dimensions, which could wipe out the entire planet just by passing through in the general vicinity of it. After that, we’ve got the Fears, like the Black Dog. Not all of them are up to the eldritch gods in strength, but they make up for it by being annoyingly immortal, pan-dimensional, and having a strongly malevolent interest in humanity. Then there’s the Slender Man.
-Why does Slender Man get his own category?
“Its, not his. Having “Man” in its name doesn’t make it one. And next question.”
-Why did the ghouls owe Jacob a favor?
“He made a deal with them to let them continue living in Washington D.C. Ghouls tend to eat dead bodies, but occasionally they’ll attack living humans. That, combined with their bad habit of kidnapping infants, means that most people try to drive them out or kill them all when they discover a ghoul colony under their homes. Jacob got them to agree to behave themselves, and in exchange, he would turn a blind eye to their existence.”
-What exactly is Lupine Wonse’s plan that we’re supposed to be stopping?
“Too long to explain, and it involves dimensional nonsense. Basically it’s a summoning ritual. You’ll probably pick up more as we go.”
-How are we going to stop it?
Uncomfortably long pause. “I’ll think of something. That’s all the questions for today.”
That’s all I got out of her. Still, it’s way more than I ever have before. At least I feel kinda like I know some stuff now, even if she did skip almost half of the things I asked her.
-Lisa
The drive was a bit tense. 330’s been in an angry mood ever since Jacob’s death. Barely said anything. A few miles into the drive, I saw that Slender Man thing standing on some trees by the road. My heart leaped into my throat… and 330 just flipped it the bird and kept driving.
Not long after we got back, she pulled me aside and said, “I know you’ve got a lot of questions now. I’ll answer them tomorrow.”
Wait, really? Seriously? I-330, actually answering my questions about what’s going on? Did I just fall into some strange bizarro world?
Wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass, surprising as it was. Stayed up for hours trying to think of everything I could ask her. The list I made was several pages long, so I then had to spend the next few hours editing it down to the really important ones, as I’d rather not spend the next few weeks questioning her.
Next morning, she actually came through with the promise, and this is what I got out from her:
-So… you’re really a time traveler?
“Yes, I’m really a time traveler. No, I do not have a time machine. I am capable of moving myself through spacetime without need of external support. No, I cannot explain how I do it to you, as that would first require explaining relativistic and quantum physics, and we don’t have the several months needed for me to teach that.”
-If you can travel through time, couldn’t you have saved Peter and Jacob-
She turned away, and I heard a low snarl coming from her. Okay, definitely the wrong question for me to ask. For a moment, I thought she was going to call off the entire thing.
“No. I couldn’t. Next question.”
Tried to think of something that wouldn’t be as volatile a question.
-Who’s Grendel?
Bad choice. Could see her tense up even more.
“Next question.”
Had to be something I could ask her without causing such a reaction….
-What was that door you went through last month? You went in, and came out with the book that you used to figure out what we needed to do next.
“It was a door to the Library. Past Me wrote a post about it earlier on your blog. It’s a semi-sentient dimension consisting of a gigantic library complex. The Library contains everything that has, will be, or could be written. If you enter it, it will direct you to the knowledge which you are looking for. However, it doesn’t take kindly to anyone stealing from it, and tends to kill most who try to do so. Which is why I try not to use it very often; that’s only the third time I’ve ever taken a book from it. Still haven’t figured out if it’s an extension of the Empty City, or its own dimension.”
-Wait, what’s the Empty City?
“A sentient, highly malevolent eldritch dimension which takes the form of a vast, ever-changing city.”
-Alright…. Then, these monster things…. How many are there?
“Too many. There’s the regular, bump in the dark alleyway type. Tons of those; entire species, spread across the globe. Like ghouls. Most living in industrialized areas tend to lay low; easier to survive that way. It’s when you get outside civilization that they become a real problem. Then there’s the monstrous, planet eating variety that are laying dormant everywhere. Like Dagon, before Innsmouth was razed in the 50s. Way too many of those type for my comfort. A lot of resources go into making sure they stay asleep. Then there’s the eldritch god variety: deity like beings, often from other dimensions, which could wipe out the entire planet just by passing through in the general vicinity of it. After that, we’ve got the Fears, like the Black Dog. Not all of them are up to the eldritch gods in strength, but they make up for it by being annoyingly immortal, pan-dimensional, and having a strongly malevolent interest in humanity. Then there’s the Slender Man.
-Why does Slender Man get his own category?
“Its, not his. Having “Man” in its name doesn’t make it one. And next question.”
-Why did the ghouls owe Jacob a favor?
“He made a deal with them to let them continue living in Washington D.C. Ghouls tend to eat dead bodies, but occasionally they’ll attack living humans. That, combined with their bad habit of kidnapping infants, means that most people try to drive them out or kill them all when they discover a ghoul colony under their homes. Jacob got them to agree to behave themselves, and in exchange, he would turn a blind eye to their existence.”
-What exactly is Lupine Wonse’s plan that we’re supposed to be stopping?
“Too long to explain, and it involves dimensional nonsense. Basically it’s a summoning ritual. You’ll probably pick up more as we go.”
-How are we going to stop it?
Uncomfortably long pause. “I’ll think of something. That’s all the questions for today.”
That’s all I got out of her. Still, it’s way more than I ever have before. At least I feel kinda like I know some stuff now, even if she did skip almost half of the things I asked her.
-Lisa
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Meeting the Enemy, Part 2
Continued from this post.
-------------------
It was surprising, how normal the interior that building looked. Walked out of the maintenance room, and found ourselves in a bland looking hallway, same as you’d find in any generic office building.
330 led the way down the hall. Wasn’t anyone else around; in hindsight, I should have been wondering about that. First room we reached was a cafeteria. Again, no people. Trays with half eaten meals were still on the tables, and suitcases were left scattered on the ground, but apart from that… emptiness. 330 inspected the food on one of the trays.
“Still warm,” she said, “they couldn’t have left that long ago.”
We left the cafeteria, and continued to walk through the halls. Still no one. There was a large open space filled with cubicles, but each was empty. Most of the computers had been left on; 330 quickly scrolled through what was on the screen of one, but didn’t appear interested in the contents.
“Nothing here. Keep moving.”
Followed her up the stairwell. Initially thought we were just going up to the next story, but 330 kept going up, and up, and up….. I was panting by the time we reached the very top. Hasn’t she heard of elevators?
No cubicles there on the top floor. This was a place of office suites. Or rather, one very large office suite. The kind you expect to see evil corporate overlords and wealthy mob bosses plotting in. Huge windows with the view of a forest covering an entire wall, priceless looking paintings on the elaborately wallpapered walls, and a largw wooden desk predominating in the center. A laptop, screen facing us, was lying on top of the desk. On it was a middle aged man with slicked back blond hair.
“Hello, I-330. Take a seat.” The man on the screen said. 330 slowly sat down in a chair by the desk. I looked around the room, but there weren’t any other seats, so I kept standing.
“You were expecting us.” 330 said.
“Well, yes, of course. You honestly believe we wouldn’t be monitoring a tunnel leading into this building?”
“Stills seems a bit unorthodox way to greet me. If you knew we were coming, you could have just had guards waiting for us when we came out.”
“Yes, but I wanted a chance to speak with the Great I-330 before her death. I’ve read quite a lot about you. Do you realize how large a file we had on you? When I took over this organization, I found that my predecessor had left five whole cabinets filled with details on your activities. It was quite the fascinating read, even though most has likely been horrendously exaggerated. I mean,” he held up a manila envelope, “a fist fight with the Archangel in Nazi occupied Poland? Really? This reads like one of those horrendously written blogs that have been popping up ever since someone had a security leak. I’d begun to think that my predecessors had just been labeling anything they couldn’t explain as ‘I-330 did it,’ at least, until you actually showed up in the flesh and wiped out three of my kill squads. I’m still a bit sore about that, you know. Good kill squads are surprisingly difficult to come by.”
“You’re the one who sent those people to kill us!” That was me. The man glared at me, and I quickly shut up.
He returned his attention to 330. “I should introduce myself. My name is Lupine Wonse. I took over the CIA’s Paranormal Control branch after the discharge of Jacob Marchetti. I feel you should know that things have changed since Marchetti’s joke of a reign. While he may have been content to let someone like you run around unchecked, I personally feel that there is only one proper response for us when we find an apparently ageless humanoid who has shown itself to be hostile to our plans.”
The door was thrown open, and a dozen men with guns stormed inside the room, leveling the guns at 330 and me. She didn’t move from her chair.
“You have no idea who the hell you’re fucking with, do you?” She said.
“I believe, in a few moments, it won’t matter. Gentlemen, you may fire.”
I closed my eyes, expecting to be shot… but nothing happened. Opened them, and saw the men looking as confused as I was.
“Next time you send people to kill me,” 330 said as she stood from her chair, “make sure to give them guns with firing pins in them, ‘kay?” She opened her coat and several small pieces of metal fell out.
“How the hell did you-“ Lupine began, but 330 cut him off.
“No time for explanations! Come, Lisa!” She wrapped her arm around mine. “Let us be off!”
We walked, casually, as if in a friggin’ park or something, past the armed men who just stared at us with faces of utter confusion likely matching my own. Once the two of us reached the stairwell, 330 paused.
“Alright. Now…. We run.”
“What?”
“RUN!”
Still holding my arm, she dragged me back down the stairs. Halfway to the bottom, I heard what I thought sounded like a fire alarm going off. Once we were at the bottom, and had left the stairwell, I saw that, yes, it was the fire alarm, and all the sprinklers on the floor were going off. There was another group of those soldiers on that floor as well, but they looked caught off guard by the sudden rain, and didn’t notice either 330 or me until we were already running past them. Before they could shoot us, the lights went out. I heard gunfire, but nothing came near us.
In a pitch black building, completely blind to where I was going except for 330 pulling me along, bullets flying around the place, water soaking me, I’m scared out of my mind, panicking more than I ever think I have before, and 330 was laughing the entire time.
The lights came back on as the front entrance was coming into sight. Cannot describe how happy I was to see it. Before we could reach it, a soldier stepped in front of us and aimed his gun towards us. Then… and I swear, this is what actually happened… another 330 jumped out of nowhere and punched the man in the face. This… double or something then picked up his gun, pointed at it, and shouted, “See?” at me. Then she was gone.
I thought I was dreaming. I thought I’d gone crazy. I don’t know what I was thinking, except that there was no way what I’d just seen happen had actually happened. I had an overpowering urge to stand where I was with my jaw on the floor, but 330 (the one who had been pulling me along, not the fucking appearing and vanishing other one) pulled me out the door and why was our car right by the door to this building?
Got in, 330 slammed on the gas pedal, and we sped away. Now, at last, I had to ask the question that had been pricking at my mind the entire time.
“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?”
330 glanced at me, and sighed. “Dammit Lisa, I was hoping you’d have figured this out by now! I’m a time traveler!”
….What?
“I thought it was obvious! I mean, come on, the whole Doctor Who thing should have been a big enough hint!”
What.
“I know that Peter showed you his photo album, that should have been another hint!”
WHAT.
“Have you even been reading my posts on the blog? Or what about that one post at the very start of the blog? You know, the one which is as explicitly about time travel as you can get without actually saying time travel?”
WHAT.
“Look, I’ll just show you.”
She pulled over, and got out of the car.
“Observe.”
Then she was gone. No flashy lights, no sound effects, just one moment where 330 was standing next to the car, and then another moment where she wasn’t. She reappeared a few seconds later, holding a gun.
“Ta-da. One M16A4, courtesy of that dude who tried to stop us by the exit. Now do you believe me?”
No idea how I answered. Or if I even did answer. All I remember is a feeling like my brain had melted.
Then it’s a bit of a blur after that, with 330 driving and me trying to gather my thoughts. Didn’t notice anything around me, until I heard the car radio saying,
“Police are investigating reports of gunshots at the residence of Jacob Marchetti, in….”
Thought the car was going to flip over, the way 330 slammed on the brakes and turned it around. I’d thought she’d been driving fast before. That was nothing compared to how fast she was taking it then. I didn’t even dare look at the speedometer; all I knew was that everything was blurring around us and that we were breaking probably every single traffic law in existence.
Jacob’s house was surrounded by police when we arrived. 330 jumped out of the car before waiting for it to stop, and started to run towards it. She stopped when we saw two body bags being carried out on stretchers.
A man in a suit and sunglasses had been standing at the edges of the police line. He walked over to us, and said, “Mr. Wonse hopes you take his message to heart. He-“
Don’t know what else the man was going to say, because 330 and I had to run away pretty quick. Turns out, the police don’t like it when a girl punches a government man in the face so hard his teeth fly out right in front of them.
-Lisa
-------------------
It was surprising, how normal the interior that building looked. Walked out of the maintenance room, and found ourselves in a bland looking hallway, same as you’d find in any generic office building.
330 led the way down the hall. Wasn’t anyone else around; in hindsight, I should have been wondering about that. First room we reached was a cafeteria. Again, no people. Trays with half eaten meals were still on the tables, and suitcases were left scattered on the ground, but apart from that… emptiness. 330 inspected the food on one of the trays.
“Still warm,” she said, “they couldn’t have left that long ago.”
We left the cafeteria, and continued to walk through the halls. Still no one. There was a large open space filled with cubicles, but each was empty. Most of the computers had been left on; 330 quickly scrolled through what was on the screen of one, but didn’t appear interested in the contents.
“Nothing here. Keep moving.”
Followed her up the stairwell. Initially thought we were just going up to the next story, but 330 kept going up, and up, and up….. I was panting by the time we reached the very top. Hasn’t she heard of elevators?
No cubicles there on the top floor. This was a place of office suites. Or rather, one very large office suite. The kind you expect to see evil corporate overlords and wealthy mob bosses plotting in. Huge windows with the view of a forest covering an entire wall, priceless looking paintings on the elaborately wallpapered walls, and a largw wooden desk predominating in the center. A laptop, screen facing us, was lying on top of the desk. On it was a middle aged man with slicked back blond hair.
“Hello, I-330. Take a seat.” The man on the screen said. 330 slowly sat down in a chair by the desk. I looked around the room, but there weren’t any other seats, so I kept standing.
“You were expecting us.” 330 said.
“Well, yes, of course. You honestly believe we wouldn’t be monitoring a tunnel leading into this building?”
“Stills seems a bit unorthodox way to greet me. If you knew we were coming, you could have just had guards waiting for us when we came out.”
“Yes, but I wanted a chance to speak with the Great I-330 before her death. I’ve read quite a lot about you. Do you realize how large a file we had on you? When I took over this organization, I found that my predecessor had left five whole cabinets filled with details on your activities. It was quite the fascinating read, even though most has likely been horrendously exaggerated. I mean,” he held up a manila envelope, “a fist fight with the Archangel in Nazi occupied Poland? Really? This reads like one of those horrendously written blogs that have been popping up ever since someone had a security leak. I’d begun to think that my predecessors had just been labeling anything they couldn’t explain as ‘I-330 did it,’ at least, until you actually showed up in the flesh and wiped out three of my kill squads. I’m still a bit sore about that, you know. Good kill squads are surprisingly difficult to come by.”
“You’re the one who sent those people to kill us!” That was me. The man glared at me, and I quickly shut up.
He returned his attention to 330. “I should introduce myself. My name is Lupine Wonse. I took over the CIA’s Paranormal Control branch after the discharge of Jacob Marchetti. I feel you should know that things have changed since Marchetti’s joke of a reign. While he may have been content to let someone like you run around unchecked, I personally feel that there is only one proper response for us when we find an apparently ageless humanoid who has shown itself to be hostile to our plans.”
The door was thrown open, and a dozen men with guns stormed inside the room, leveling the guns at 330 and me. She didn’t move from her chair.
“You have no idea who the hell you’re fucking with, do you?” She said.
“I believe, in a few moments, it won’t matter. Gentlemen, you may fire.”
I closed my eyes, expecting to be shot… but nothing happened. Opened them, and saw the men looking as confused as I was.
“Next time you send people to kill me,” 330 said as she stood from her chair, “make sure to give them guns with firing pins in them, ‘kay?” She opened her coat and several small pieces of metal fell out.
“How the hell did you-“ Lupine began, but 330 cut him off.
“No time for explanations! Come, Lisa!” She wrapped her arm around mine. “Let us be off!”
We walked, casually, as if in a friggin’ park or something, past the armed men who just stared at us with faces of utter confusion likely matching my own. Once the two of us reached the stairwell, 330 paused.
“Alright. Now…. We run.”
“What?”
“RUN!”
Still holding my arm, she dragged me back down the stairs. Halfway to the bottom, I heard what I thought sounded like a fire alarm going off. Once we were at the bottom, and had left the stairwell, I saw that, yes, it was the fire alarm, and all the sprinklers on the floor were going off. There was another group of those soldiers on that floor as well, but they looked caught off guard by the sudden rain, and didn’t notice either 330 or me until we were already running past them. Before they could shoot us, the lights went out. I heard gunfire, but nothing came near us.
In a pitch black building, completely blind to where I was going except for 330 pulling me along, bullets flying around the place, water soaking me, I’m scared out of my mind, panicking more than I ever think I have before, and 330 was laughing the entire time.
The lights came back on as the front entrance was coming into sight. Cannot describe how happy I was to see it. Before we could reach it, a soldier stepped in front of us and aimed his gun towards us. Then… and I swear, this is what actually happened… another 330 jumped out of nowhere and punched the man in the face. This… double or something then picked up his gun, pointed at it, and shouted, “See?” at me. Then she was gone.
I thought I was dreaming. I thought I’d gone crazy. I don’t know what I was thinking, except that there was no way what I’d just seen happen had actually happened. I had an overpowering urge to stand where I was with my jaw on the floor, but 330 (the one who had been pulling me along, not the fucking appearing and vanishing other one) pulled me out the door and why was our car right by the door to this building?
Got in, 330 slammed on the gas pedal, and we sped away. Now, at last, I had to ask the question that had been pricking at my mind the entire time.
“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?”
330 glanced at me, and sighed. “Dammit Lisa, I was hoping you’d have figured this out by now! I’m a time traveler!”
….What?
“I thought it was obvious! I mean, come on, the whole Doctor Who thing should have been a big enough hint!”
What.
“I know that Peter showed you his photo album, that should have been another hint!”
WHAT.
“Have you even been reading my posts on the blog? Or what about that one post at the very start of the blog? You know, the one which is as explicitly about time travel as you can get without actually saying time travel?”
WHAT.
“Look, I’ll just show you.”
She pulled over, and got out of the car.
“Observe.”
Then she was gone. No flashy lights, no sound effects, just one moment where 330 was standing next to the car, and then another moment where she wasn’t. She reappeared a few seconds later, holding a gun.
“Ta-da. One M16A4, courtesy of that dude who tried to stop us by the exit. Now do you believe me?”
No idea how I answered. Or if I even did answer. All I remember is a feeling like my brain had melted.
Then it’s a bit of a blur after that, with 330 driving and me trying to gather my thoughts. Didn’t notice anything around me, until I heard the car radio saying,
“Police are investigating reports of gunshots at the residence of Jacob Marchetti, in….”
Thought the car was going to flip over, the way 330 slammed on the brakes and turned it around. I’d thought she’d been driving fast before. That was nothing compared to how fast she was taking it then. I didn’t even dare look at the speedometer; all I knew was that everything was blurring around us and that we were breaking probably every single traffic law in existence.
Jacob’s house was surrounded by police when we arrived. 330 jumped out of the car before waiting for it to stop, and started to run towards it. She stopped when we saw two body bags being carried out on stretchers.
A man in a suit and sunglasses had been standing at the edges of the police line. He walked over to us, and said, “Mr. Wonse hopes you take his message to heart. He-“
Don’t know what else the man was going to say, because 330 and I had to run away pretty quick. Turns out, the police don’t like it when a girl punches a government man in the face so hard his teeth fly out right in front of them.
-Lisa
Meeting the Enemy, Part 1
A lot has happened. This’ll be a long post; I might have to divide it into two parts.
For once, 330 decided to give me a briefing on what she was planning to do ahead of time. The people who had attacked us and killed Peter owned a small office building just outside the city, and 330 was planning to sneak inside. What we were going to do once we got inside was a little unclear; she couldn’t seem to be able to decide if we should be quietly looking for clues, or angrily breaking some heads.
The act of getting inside wasn’t supposed to be that difficult. We drove to an estate out of the city, up to a gated mansion. It looked like the sort of place which once could be described as “lavish,” but since then has adapted “decrepit” as a better adjective. 330 didn’t even bother with the gate; soon as she’d gotten out of the car, she climbed over the fence, opened it from the other side, and told me to come along. I think I may have shouted something like, “You can’t do that!” at this flagrant breaking and entering, but such protests lack effect when it’s obvious that they have indeed done just that.
Now with me wondering if someone was going to call the police on us, we walked across the overgrown lawn to the excessively ominous black door. 330 knocked three times, and a minute later, the most evil looking face I have ever seen answered it. Wasn’t necessarily ugly; it just looked as though sheer maliciousness was pouring off every inch of it. The harsh, “Get the hell of my property,” which he barked at us certainly did nothing to dispel that notion.
“We’re friends of Jacob Marchetti,” was all 330 needed to say in order to make the man more hospitable.
“Ah, I am incredibly sorry! Do come inside.”
You know those stories about the spooky old house that all the neighborhood kids are terrified of because it looks haunted? Then one day someone musters up enough courage to go inside, and they discover that it’s actually a nice place owned by a kindly old man?
This wasn’t that type of house. This was the type that looked just as creepy on the inside, with terrible lighting and creepy paintings all over the walls.
“Let me introduce myself,” the man said. “I am Jonathan Pickman. If you’re here for Mr. Marchetti, might I assume you come on… ghoulish nature?” The creepy smile he put on as he said those last words caused me to shiver.
330 and Jonathan had a brief conversation (I’ll confess, I was a bit too preoccupied by the painting of some red eyed humanoid beast standing over a baby’s crib to hear them,) after which Jonathan led us further into the mansion. The quality of the décor didn’t improve the deeper we went; if anything, the density of horrifying paintings increased. Jonathan caught me staring at a portrait of a scale covered man swimming across a bay at night. “That one’s ‘Innsmouth at Moonlight,’ made by my grandfather, Richard Pickman, back before they filled the bay in. What do you think of it?”
Tried to say it was nice, but I don’t think I was very convincing. Jonathan didn’t seem to mind, thankfully.
“My grandfather was always very talented at drawing his pictures from life. It made holding a job difficult for him, as his employers always became terrified at the realism in his paintings.”
From life? The next image was showing a beast with far more teeth than I thought possible tearing apart an animal carcass. He was drawing that sort of thing from life?
“What happened to your grandfather?” Had to ask, even if I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.
Jonathan shrugged. “Vanished. Although I once spoke with a man who claimed that his father met my grandfather in the Dreamlands. Apparently he decided to join the native ghouls there.”
Dreamlands? Another word I didn’t understand. The constant mentioning of ghouls was really starting to pick at my curiosity, though. Especially since I’d read about them in Elizabeth’s journal.
Richard took us down to an old wine cellar. Whole place was filled with dust, covering the bottles and racks in thick layers, except for a well walked path down the middle. That’s the path Jonathan led us down, until we reached a trapdoor by the wall. Jonathan opened it, and a horrible stench came out. Ugh. Imagine something similar to death, rotting eggs, and burning tires all mixed together. Couldn’t see anything through it; not even a single light. Jonathan and 330 walked down the stairs into it, and I slowly followed behind. Within a few seconds I was completely disorientated. I could see the dim light from behind me, but that was it; everything else was pitch black. Something grabbed my hand and I almost screamed before I heard 330 say, “It’s alright, it’s just me. Stay with me and you’ll be fine.”
Let her lead me through the blackness. The ground was muddy, squelching and sucking at my shoes with every step, and the odor I had smelled earlier was only growing worse with each passing moment. Sometimes I would swear that I heard something, whispers coming from the shadows or footsteps behind us, but we kept pressing on.
After maybe half an hour, I could see a faint light ahead. First light I’d seen in a long time; hurt my eyes a bit, even if it wasn’t very bright.
The light was originating from a circular room, maybe only a few yards long. The light had been coming from this green fungus which was spread across the walls and ceiling. Weird, yes, but not something I paid much mind to, as my focus was busy with the creatures waiting for us there.
These were the ghouls everyone had been talking about. What I read… really didn’t do them justice. Elizabeth’s description was accurate…. Rubbery skin, slouching, doglike muzzles…. But that doesn’t come close to describing the leering evil coming out of those red eyes. Clutched onto 330’s hand even tighter when I saw them in the greenish light. If she hadn’t been there… probably would have panicked even more than I did.
Jonathan and the ghouls “spoke” to each other, although I didn’t understand the language. Again Elizabeth described it pretty well; “meeping and gibbering” are the most fitting words I could attach to the sounds.
After finishing their conversation, Jonathan spoke to 330 and I. “The ghouls still remember the kindness Marchetti showed them in allowing them to continue living under the city. They will guide you wherever you need to go.”
330 told the address to Jonathan, and he repeated it to the ghouls in their language. Another discussion followed which I couldn’t understand. Occasionally one of the ghouls would glance over at me, grinning to show their sharp fangs….
“The ghouls have tunnels leading there. They can show you the way, but they won’t follow you inside.”
“That’s good enough.” 330 said. “You ready, Lisa?”
Took me a moment to realize she’d spoken to me. One of the ghouls was staring at me, saliva dripping from his mouth as his red eyes bore holes through me….
“Y-yeah, I’m ready….”
“Alright. Lead the way.”
The ghouls walked out of the room, into a black tunnel connecting to it. With 330 guiding me, we followed them.
Once more, I was completely unable to see anything around me. The only sensations I had to go by was the feel of 330’s hand, and the sound of the ghouls walking through the mud. One of them was tailing right behind me the whole way, breathing the smell of rotten corpses down my neck. Twice I felt something brush by my leg, and had to suppress a scream. More time walking through the smell and mud, blind to everything but the occasional flash of a ghoul’s red eyes, hearing strange sounds all around me….
I cannot express my relief when I saw light again. It was fainter than the last light, but it was something.
That light turned out to be the exit we’d been heading for. Turned out to be a small hole in the floor of a maintenance room. Barely large enough for 330 and I to fit through, but we managed. I looked back once I was through, but the ghouls had already left. Apparently they weren’t in the mood to stick around.
“Well,” 330 said, “we’re here. Now let’s get to work.”
Continued here
For once, 330 decided to give me a briefing on what she was planning to do ahead of time. The people who had attacked us and killed Peter owned a small office building just outside the city, and 330 was planning to sneak inside. What we were going to do once we got inside was a little unclear; she couldn’t seem to be able to decide if we should be quietly looking for clues, or angrily breaking some heads.
The act of getting inside wasn’t supposed to be that difficult. We drove to an estate out of the city, up to a gated mansion. It looked like the sort of place which once could be described as “lavish,” but since then has adapted “decrepit” as a better adjective. 330 didn’t even bother with the gate; soon as she’d gotten out of the car, she climbed over the fence, opened it from the other side, and told me to come along. I think I may have shouted something like, “You can’t do that!” at this flagrant breaking and entering, but such protests lack effect when it’s obvious that they have indeed done just that.
Now with me wondering if someone was going to call the police on us, we walked across the overgrown lawn to the excessively ominous black door. 330 knocked three times, and a minute later, the most evil looking face I have ever seen answered it. Wasn’t necessarily ugly; it just looked as though sheer maliciousness was pouring off every inch of it. The harsh, “Get the hell of my property,” which he barked at us certainly did nothing to dispel that notion.
“We’re friends of Jacob Marchetti,” was all 330 needed to say in order to make the man more hospitable.
“Ah, I am incredibly sorry! Do come inside.”
You know those stories about the spooky old house that all the neighborhood kids are terrified of because it looks haunted? Then one day someone musters up enough courage to go inside, and they discover that it’s actually a nice place owned by a kindly old man?
This wasn’t that type of house. This was the type that looked just as creepy on the inside, with terrible lighting and creepy paintings all over the walls.
“Let me introduce myself,” the man said. “I am Jonathan Pickman. If you’re here for Mr. Marchetti, might I assume you come on… ghoulish nature?” The creepy smile he put on as he said those last words caused me to shiver.
330 and Jonathan had a brief conversation (I’ll confess, I was a bit too preoccupied by the painting of some red eyed humanoid beast standing over a baby’s crib to hear them,) after which Jonathan led us further into the mansion. The quality of the décor didn’t improve the deeper we went; if anything, the density of horrifying paintings increased. Jonathan caught me staring at a portrait of a scale covered man swimming across a bay at night. “That one’s ‘Innsmouth at Moonlight,’ made by my grandfather, Richard Pickman, back before they filled the bay in. What do you think of it?”
Tried to say it was nice, but I don’t think I was very convincing. Jonathan didn’t seem to mind, thankfully.
“My grandfather was always very talented at drawing his pictures from life. It made holding a job difficult for him, as his employers always became terrified at the realism in his paintings.”
From life? The next image was showing a beast with far more teeth than I thought possible tearing apart an animal carcass. He was drawing that sort of thing from life?
“What happened to your grandfather?” Had to ask, even if I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.
Jonathan shrugged. “Vanished. Although I once spoke with a man who claimed that his father met my grandfather in the Dreamlands. Apparently he decided to join the native ghouls there.”
Dreamlands? Another word I didn’t understand. The constant mentioning of ghouls was really starting to pick at my curiosity, though. Especially since I’d read about them in Elizabeth’s journal.
Richard took us down to an old wine cellar. Whole place was filled with dust, covering the bottles and racks in thick layers, except for a well walked path down the middle. That’s the path Jonathan led us down, until we reached a trapdoor by the wall. Jonathan opened it, and a horrible stench came out. Ugh. Imagine something similar to death, rotting eggs, and burning tires all mixed together. Couldn’t see anything through it; not even a single light. Jonathan and 330 walked down the stairs into it, and I slowly followed behind. Within a few seconds I was completely disorientated. I could see the dim light from behind me, but that was it; everything else was pitch black. Something grabbed my hand and I almost screamed before I heard 330 say, “It’s alright, it’s just me. Stay with me and you’ll be fine.”
Let her lead me through the blackness. The ground was muddy, squelching and sucking at my shoes with every step, and the odor I had smelled earlier was only growing worse with each passing moment. Sometimes I would swear that I heard something, whispers coming from the shadows or footsteps behind us, but we kept pressing on.
After maybe half an hour, I could see a faint light ahead. First light I’d seen in a long time; hurt my eyes a bit, even if it wasn’t very bright.
The light was originating from a circular room, maybe only a few yards long. The light had been coming from this green fungus which was spread across the walls and ceiling. Weird, yes, but not something I paid much mind to, as my focus was busy with the creatures waiting for us there.
These were the ghouls everyone had been talking about. What I read… really didn’t do them justice. Elizabeth’s description was accurate…. Rubbery skin, slouching, doglike muzzles…. But that doesn’t come close to describing the leering evil coming out of those red eyes. Clutched onto 330’s hand even tighter when I saw them in the greenish light. If she hadn’t been there… probably would have panicked even more than I did.
Jonathan and the ghouls “spoke” to each other, although I didn’t understand the language. Again Elizabeth described it pretty well; “meeping and gibbering” are the most fitting words I could attach to the sounds.
After finishing their conversation, Jonathan spoke to 330 and I. “The ghouls still remember the kindness Marchetti showed them in allowing them to continue living under the city. They will guide you wherever you need to go.”
330 told the address to Jonathan, and he repeated it to the ghouls in their language. Another discussion followed which I couldn’t understand. Occasionally one of the ghouls would glance over at me, grinning to show their sharp fangs….
“The ghouls have tunnels leading there. They can show you the way, but they won’t follow you inside.”
“That’s good enough.” 330 said. “You ready, Lisa?”
Took me a moment to realize she’d spoken to me. One of the ghouls was staring at me, saliva dripping from his mouth as his red eyes bore holes through me….
“Y-yeah, I’m ready….”
“Alright. Lead the way.”
The ghouls walked out of the room, into a black tunnel connecting to it. With 330 guiding me, we followed them.
Once more, I was completely unable to see anything around me. The only sensations I had to go by was the feel of 330’s hand, and the sound of the ghouls walking through the mud. One of them was tailing right behind me the whole way, breathing the smell of rotten corpses down my neck. Twice I felt something brush by my leg, and had to suppress a scream. More time walking through the smell and mud, blind to everything but the occasional flash of a ghoul’s red eyes, hearing strange sounds all around me….
I cannot express my relief when I saw light again. It was fainter than the last light, but it was something.
That light turned out to be the exit we’d been heading for. Turned out to be a small hole in the floor of a maintenance room. Barely large enough for 330 and I to fit through, but we managed. I looked back once I was through, but the ghouls had already left. Apparently they weren’t in the mood to stick around.
“Well,” 330 said, “we’re here. Now let’s get to work.”
Continued here
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
This is the worst pain
Is it really possible to feel this sore….
It’s been a few days since we met with Jacob. A lot of days, actually. I thought we were going to be running off onto some adventure immediately afterward, but instead 330 got us hotel rooms (separate rooms, because apparently she’s made of money) and we haven’t done much since.
Well, haven’t done anything related to those monster things, at least. And the things we have done are the reason I’m logging onto this blog to vent….
The morning after we got the hotel, 330 threw open my door and tossed a bag on my bed, as seems to be her usual way of saying “good morning.” Yes, she has a key to my room, no, I don’t have a key to hers. I am aware of the unequal nature of this. Anyways, I thought this meant we were going to be hitting the road again, which, in hindsight, might have been the preferable outcome. Instead, she said to me, “It’s a beautiful day outside, and I said, hey, why waste it. So I got you some running gear.”
And that is how my hell began.
330 claims this isn’t in response to my complete failure at riding a bike, but I’m not sure I believe her on that. With what she’s been putting me though, I think her mission is either get me into amazing shape, or to kill me, and right now I’m starting to think it’s more the latter….
Since I have yet to develop the ability to actually protest against the things 330 tells me to do, a few minutes later I was outside at a park, wearing skimpier shorts than I ever have before (never understood the appeal of them, to be honest…), torn between dread at what was approaching and curiosity as I tried to surreptitiously look at 330. It was the first time I’ve ever seen her not wearing long sleeves. And…. I don’t know whether or not I should have expected what I saw.
Of course I’d known she’d had injuries before, from the eye patch and the facial scars. But I’d just assumed that those were all there was to it. Instead…. There were some really serious looking burn scars just below her right wrist and on both her legs. And her left arm… it was completely covered in bandages. Not an inch of skin showing. And that’s not even mentioning the various other small scars and cuts along her arm and legs….
Course, in spite of all that, she still pulled off the running clothes look better than me. Not that it was a big accomplishment, to be honest….
Whatever curiosity I had about those injuries didn’t last long, because I was promptly told to run for twenty minutes without stopping.
After five I felt like I was about to collapse and die.
By ten I actually was about to collapse, and 330 let me stop.
So, experiment failed, right? It was a nice try, but I’m just not cut out for being in shape, right?
Nope.
We’ve been continuing this tradition of morning workouts every day since then. Sometimes 330 mixes things up by including pushups, sit up, hill runs, or whatever else her sadistic mind can think of.
At last I understand what hell feels like.
Can I please go back to the time where I just blindly followed 330 around while she did crazy things while I had no idea what was going on.
-Lisa
It’s been a few days since we met with Jacob. A lot of days, actually. I thought we were going to be running off onto some adventure immediately afterward, but instead 330 got us hotel rooms (separate rooms, because apparently she’s made of money) and we haven’t done much since.
Well, haven’t done anything related to those monster things, at least. And the things we have done are the reason I’m logging onto this blog to vent….
The morning after we got the hotel, 330 threw open my door and tossed a bag on my bed, as seems to be her usual way of saying “good morning.” Yes, she has a key to my room, no, I don’t have a key to hers. I am aware of the unequal nature of this. Anyways, I thought this meant we were going to be hitting the road again, which, in hindsight, might have been the preferable outcome. Instead, she said to me, “It’s a beautiful day outside, and I said, hey, why waste it. So I got you some running gear.”
And that is how my hell began.
330 claims this isn’t in response to my complete failure at riding a bike, but I’m not sure I believe her on that. With what she’s been putting me though, I think her mission is either get me into amazing shape, or to kill me, and right now I’m starting to think it’s more the latter….
Since I have yet to develop the ability to actually protest against the things 330 tells me to do, a few minutes later I was outside at a park, wearing skimpier shorts than I ever have before (never understood the appeal of them, to be honest…), torn between dread at what was approaching and curiosity as I tried to surreptitiously look at 330. It was the first time I’ve ever seen her not wearing long sleeves. And…. I don’t know whether or not I should have expected what I saw.
Of course I’d known she’d had injuries before, from the eye patch and the facial scars. But I’d just assumed that those were all there was to it. Instead…. There were some really serious looking burn scars just below her right wrist and on both her legs. And her left arm… it was completely covered in bandages. Not an inch of skin showing. And that’s not even mentioning the various other small scars and cuts along her arm and legs….
Course, in spite of all that, she still pulled off the running clothes look better than me. Not that it was a big accomplishment, to be honest….
Whatever curiosity I had about those injuries didn’t last long, because I was promptly told to run for twenty minutes without stopping.
After five I felt like I was about to collapse and die.
By ten I actually was about to collapse, and 330 let me stop.
So, experiment failed, right? It was a nice try, but I’m just not cut out for being in shape, right?
Nope.
We’ve been continuing this tradition of morning workouts every day since then. Sometimes 330 mixes things up by including pushups, sit up, hill runs, or whatever else her sadistic mind can think of.
At last I understand what hell feels like.
Can I please go back to the time where I just blindly followed 330 around while she did crazy things while I had no idea what was going on.
-Lisa
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Jacob Marchetti
We’re heading back south again, now using our (kinda stolen?) car, instead of the train. This time, the destination is Washington D.C.
Course I didn’t know why we were heading to D.C., but since when have I ever been told anything here?
Only briefly passed through the city itself. First time I’ve seen it in person; was kinda expecting something a bit more… I dunno, impressive. The monuments and buildings were nice, but they were just buildings. Don’t know what the big deal about them is supposed to be.
After cutting across the city, we reached a very high class looking suburban neighborhood. Perfectly maintained lawns, multiple cars in the driveway, etc. The house 330 stopped in front of looked pretty much like every other house there. We parked in the driveway, and 330 knocked on the door. A middle aged middle-eastern woman opened the door and gave us a smile.
“How can I help you?” she asked.
“We’re here to see Jacob.” 330’s voice caught me by surprise. Almost sounded shy.
“Oh, I’ll go and tell Mr. Marchetti he has company,” then she walked away.
Few moments later, she returned, leading an older man, maybe in his 60s. He shuffled across the floor, feeling out the ground ahead with a cane. He’s blind, I realized, looking at the sunglasses covering his eyes. When the woman leading him stopped, he stopped as well, and gave a smile bright enough it could have won anyone over.
“So Marjane tells me I have two beautiful woman at my door, which is quite a unique experience at this time in my life. How can I help the two of you?”
330 hesitated, long enough that I was starting to think I’d have to introduce us, before saying, “Hello, Jacob.”
The smile was gone in an instant. “I-330.” He turned, and gestured at us. “You’d better come inside.”
Marjane led us to a living room, with a large couch and several chairs. Jacob slowly sat down in one of the chairs, and I automatically took a place on the couch. When I saw 330 remain standing, I suddenly wasn’t sure whether or not I should have sat down, but damn this was a comfy couch….
“Marjane,” Jacob said softly, “could you be a dear and please get our guests something to drink?”
She nodded and left the room. Jacob chuckled, saying, “Don’t know what I’d do without her.” And then the kindness was suddenly gone again. “Now what do you want?”
“We’ve had a run in with some people from your organization-“ 330 was cut off before she could finish.
“It’s not MY organization anymore. I’m retired, remember? They didn’t exactly have much use for me anymore once I was turned into a blind cripple.”
Pause, then 330 resumed. “We’ve had a run in with some people from the organization you used to run. They’re up to something suspicious.”
“Well, yes.” A grim chuckle came from Jacob’s mouth. “Being up to something suspicious was what we did for a living.”
“This is different. They’re not trying to contain paranormal creature activity; if anything it looks like they might be trying to assist one.
Jacob got real quiet for a long time, and then scowled. “Never did like the look of that kid they replaced me with. So why come to me?”
“I haven’t been in touch with anyone in the group since I last saw you. I need to know what’s changed; where they’ve relocated to, what resources they have, what they know, and so on.”
“And you’re assuming that, even though I haven’t worked for them in decades, that I’ve been keeping track of their activities or something?”
“Yes.”
For a moment, I thought I saw a smile on Jacob’s face, but then the frown was back in force. “Info you need is in the safe in the basement. And since you never gave it back to me, I’m assuming you still have the key.”
330 muttered a thank you, and then walked out of the room, leaving me alone with Jacob. Started to get up to follow her, but she told me to stay where I was, she’d be back in just a few minutes. So I sat there. While waiting for 330, Marjane came back, carrying a plate with teacups on it. I took the cup offered to me, and tried a few sips. Some kind of tea; don’t really know enough to say what kind, though. Tasted pretty good. Marjane left the room shortly afterward, leaving just me and Jacob.
“So then,” Jacob said, once more in the tone of the friendly man who’d greeted us at the door. “What’s your name?”
“Lisa, sir. Lisa Wells.”
“Oh, don’t bother with the sir. No need for that. You’d be I-330’s latest sidekick?”
Not sure I liked the word “sidekick”, but I nodded anyways. Then I realized how stupid that was so I said, “Yes.”
“And I expect you’ve barely been told anything about what it is your doing?”
Started to shake my head, caught myself, and said, “No, sir.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, that’s how she usually does it. Never telling anyone the full story, always making sure she’s the only one who knows what’s really going on…. It’s how she stays in control; you’ve got no choice but to do what she says when she’s the only one who has a clue what to do. Soon as you start learning enough to act independently from her, you get tossed to the side.” He tapped his sunglasses a few times.
Let that conversation drop. Few moments of silence passed. There was one question which had been itching at my mind, and eventually I worked up the courage to ask, “If you don’t mind me asking, what is the organization that you and 330 were talking about?”
“She really didn’t tell you much at all, did she? I did work for the CIA. Originally, at least. We were a small, secret branch they made in the 70s to ‘protect American interests from actively belligerent paranormal entities, with emphasis on those displaying reality altering capabilities.’ Didn’t have an official name, but we called ourselves the Scoobies, after the cartoon with the dog. Though I’ve heard they dropped the name since I left; apparently the guy they replaced me with didn’t think it was serious enough or something. Bit of a shame, that. We could have gotten royalties off that Buffy show.”
“You mean you fought against monsters and things as part of the government? Like the men in black or something?”
“Yeah, something similar. Although fight may not be the best word; you can’t really fight against most of those things. We mostly did damage control. Real damage control, not that hiding everything under the rug bullshit that Fisk bastard does.”
I had no idea what he meant by that, and he seemed to have noticed, because he continued, “Fisk’s from one of the FBI branches dealing with this shit. There’s got to be at least a dozen different government organizations I know about all for taking care of this. That’s the kind of screw up you get when the people you have working for you are more secret than the monsters they’re working against. Some bigwig finds out about the Slender Man, and creates a top secret organization for hunting him. Then a few years later, the administration’s changed, and we’ve got a new bigwig in charge who’s never heard of the super secret group his predecessor made, but he has heard about this Slender Man thing. So he creates his own group, until your drowning in suits all trying to hunt Slender Man.”
“So… is 330 something like that? Someone working for an agency to fight these things?”
He scowled, and I knew I shouldn’t have brought the conversation back to her…. “Truth be told, I have no idea what I-330 is, or even why she does these things. Hell, the jury’s still out on whether or not she’s even a human. We always kept a file on her, in case it turned out she wasn’t.”
Okay, 330 not human? That’s pushing even my ability to believe. Before I could object, Jacob raised his hand, and kept talking.
“Yeah, I know that doesn’t sound likely. But let me just give you a warning, as a retired sidekick to the new one. The first time you meet I-330, she’s the most amazing person you’ve ever known. You’ve never met anyone like her, and she shows you this brand new world filled with adventure and excitement. And she just fills up your life, and you feel like you’d follow her to the ends of the earth…” Another pause. This day seems to be full of them. “But you don’t realize until it’s too late, that all those adventures she’s gone on has left a mountain of corpses behind her. And to her, you’re just another expendable body to be abandoned once she’s no longer getting any fun out of you.”
Thankfully I was spared from having to think of a way to reply to that, as 330 came back shortly after he finished. “Got what I needed,” she said. “Jacob, do the ghouls in D.C. still owe you a favor?”
“Yeah. Just drop my name and they’ll do whatever you ask.”
“Good. Come on Lisa, we’re done here.” I got up, and started to follow her to the door, but she stopped before she walked out. “Jacob…. I’m sorry for what happened.”
“No you’re not.”
And that was it.
Drove to a hotel in silence. I just finished unpacking; not sure where 330’s gone to. She hasn’t said a word since we left Jacob’s house….
-Lisa
Course I didn’t know why we were heading to D.C., but since when have I ever been told anything here?
Only briefly passed through the city itself. First time I’ve seen it in person; was kinda expecting something a bit more… I dunno, impressive. The monuments and buildings were nice, but they were just buildings. Don’t know what the big deal about them is supposed to be.
After cutting across the city, we reached a very high class looking suburban neighborhood. Perfectly maintained lawns, multiple cars in the driveway, etc. The house 330 stopped in front of looked pretty much like every other house there. We parked in the driveway, and 330 knocked on the door. A middle aged middle-eastern woman opened the door and gave us a smile.
“How can I help you?” she asked.
“We’re here to see Jacob.” 330’s voice caught me by surprise. Almost sounded shy.
“Oh, I’ll go and tell Mr. Marchetti he has company,” then she walked away.
Few moments later, she returned, leading an older man, maybe in his 60s. He shuffled across the floor, feeling out the ground ahead with a cane. He’s blind, I realized, looking at the sunglasses covering his eyes. When the woman leading him stopped, he stopped as well, and gave a smile bright enough it could have won anyone over.
“So Marjane tells me I have two beautiful woman at my door, which is quite a unique experience at this time in my life. How can I help the two of you?”
330 hesitated, long enough that I was starting to think I’d have to introduce us, before saying, “Hello, Jacob.”
The smile was gone in an instant. “I-330.” He turned, and gestured at us. “You’d better come inside.”
Marjane led us to a living room, with a large couch and several chairs. Jacob slowly sat down in one of the chairs, and I automatically took a place on the couch. When I saw 330 remain standing, I suddenly wasn’t sure whether or not I should have sat down, but damn this was a comfy couch….
“Marjane,” Jacob said softly, “could you be a dear and please get our guests something to drink?”
She nodded and left the room. Jacob chuckled, saying, “Don’t know what I’d do without her.” And then the kindness was suddenly gone again. “Now what do you want?”
“We’ve had a run in with some people from your organization-“ 330 was cut off before she could finish.
“It’s not MY organization anymore. I’m retired, remember? They didn’t exactly have much use for me anymore once I was turned into a blind cripple.”
Pause, then 330 resumed. “We’ve had a run in with some people from the organization you used to run. They’re up to something suspicious.”
“Well, yes.” A grim chuckle came from Jacob’s mouth. “Being up to something suspicious was what we did for a living.”
“This is different. They’re not trying to contain paranormal creature activity; if anything it looks like they might be trying to assist one.
Jacob got real quiet for a long time, and then scowled. “Never did like the look of that kid they replaced me with. So why come to me?”
“I haven’t been in touch with anyone in the group since I last saw you. I need to know what’s changed; where they’ve relocated to, what resources they have, what they know, and so on.”
“And you’re assuming that, even though I haven’t worked for them in decades, that I’ve been keeping track of their activities or something?”
“Yes.”
For a moment, I thought I saw a smile on Jacob’s face, but then the frown was back in force. “Info you need is in the safe in the basement. And since you never gave it back to me, I’m assuming you still have the key.”
330 muttered a thank you, and then walked out of the room, leaving me alone with Jacob. Started to get up to follow her, but she told me to stay where I was, she’d be back in just a few minutes. So I sat there. While waiting for 330, Marjane came back, carrying a plate with teacups on it. I took the cup offered to me, and tried a few sips. Some kind of tea; don’t really know enough to say what kind, though. Tasted pretty good. Marjane left the room shortly afterward, leaving just me and Jacob.
“So then,” Jacob said, once more in the tone of the friendly man who’d greeted us at the door. “What’s your name?”
“Lisa, sir. Lisa Wells.”
“Oh, don’t bother with the sir. No need for that. You’d be I-330’s latest sidekick?”
Not sure I liked the word “sidekick”, but I nodded anyways. Then I realized how stupid that was so I said, “Yes.”
“And I expect you’ve barely been told anything about what it is your doing?”
Started to shake my head, caught myself, and said, “No, sir.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, that’s how she usually does it. Never telling anyone the full story, always making sure she’s the only one who knows what’s really going on…. It’s how she stays in control; you’ve got no choice but to do what she says when she’s the only one who has a clue what to do. Soon as you start learning enough to act independently from her, you get tossed to the side.” He tapped his sunglasses a few times.
Let that conversation drop. Few moments of silence passed. There was one question which had been itching at my mind, and eventually I worked up the courage to ask, “If you don’t mind me asking, what is the organization that you and 330 were talking about?”
“She really didn’t tell you much at all, did she? I did work for the CIA. Originally, at least. We were a small, secret branch they made in the 70s to ‘protect American interests from actively belligerent paranormal entities, with emphasis on those displaying reality altering capabilities.’ Didn’t have an official name, but we called ourselves the Scoobies, after the cartoon with the dog. Though I’ve heard they dropped the name since I left; apparently the guy they replaced me with didn’t think it was serious enough or something. Bit of a shame, that. We could have gotten royalties off that Buffy show.”
“You mean you fought against monsters and things as part of the government? Like the men in black or something?”
“Yeah, something similar. Although fight may not be the best word; you can’t really fight against most of those things. We mostly did damage control. Real damage control, not that hiding everything under the rug bullshit that Fisk bastard does.”
I had no idea what he meant by that, and he seemed to have noticed, because he continued, “Fisk’s from one of the FBI branches dealing with this shit. There’s got to be at least a dozen different government organizations I know about all for taking care of this. That’s the kind of screw up you get when the people you have working for you are more secret than the monsters they’re working against. Some bigwig finds out about the Slender Man, and creates a top secret organization for hunting him. Then a few years later, the administration’s changed, and we’ve got a new bigwig in charge who’s never heard of the super secret group his predecessor made, but he has heard about this Slender Man thing. So he creates his own group, until your drowning in suits all trying to hunt Slender Man.”
“So… is 330 something like that? Someone working for an agency to fight these things?”
He scowled, and I knew I shouldn’t have brought the conversation back to her…. “Truth be told, I have no idea what I-330 is, or even why she does these things. Hell, the jury’s still out on whether or not she’s even a human. We always kept a file on her, in case it turned out she wasn’t.”
Okay, 330 not human? That’s pushing even my ability to believe. Before I could object, Jacob raised his hand, and kept talking.
“Yeah, I know that doesn’t sound likely. But let me just give you a warning, as a retired sidekick to the new one. The first time you meet I-330, she’s the most amazing person you’ve ever known. You’ve never met anyone like her, and she shows you this brand new world filled with adventure and excitement. And she just fills up your life, and you feel like you’d follow her to the ends of the earth…” Another pause. This day seems to be full of them. “But you don’t realize until it’s too late, that all those adventures she’s gone on has left a mountain of corpses behind her. And to her, you’re just another expendable body to be abandoned once she’s no longer getting any fun out of you.”
Thankfully I was spared from having to think of a way to reply to that, as 330 came back shortly after he finished. “Got what I needed,” she said. “Jacob, do the ghouls in D.C. still owe you a favor?”
“Yeah. Just drop my name and they’ll do whatever you ask.”
“Good. Come on Lisa, we’re done here.” I got up, and started to follow her to the door, but she stopped before she walked out. “Jacob…. I’m sorry for what happened.”
“No you’re not.”
And that was it.
Drove to a hotel in silence. I just finished unpacking; not sure where 330’s gone to. She hasn’t said a word since we left Jacob’s house….
-Lisa
Saturday, November 12, 2011
November 12, 2011-Arkham, Massachusetts
2,376,926
Sup everyone. Been ages since I made a post for this blog.
Literally.
But those books I got out of the Library. Thanks to the extensive research I’ve been doing, it didn’t take long to pinpoint the specific passages I was looking for. The passages which some people went to quite a lot of trouble to ensure I wouldn’t be able to read.
I’d say 90% of it is instructions: things you need to gather, rituals you need to perform, locations you need to be at, etc. Instructions for what, you ask? Well, how about we let some mad rantings scribbled onto the paper answer that question in an extremely vague and unhelpful manner.
”It tearsapart the universe rippingholesinto nothingness wherever its mad flight of DESTRUCTION carries it leaving only emptiness behindit the suited demon trailingin its path of BLOOD and SLAUGHTER
trapped in a doomeduniverse where nothingness descends upon all itcan be pulled out, plucked at the last moment from thecrashingtide before silence falls reaching through the gashes it will have created across the realities summoning the suited killer intoour time so that itsjourney may
begin
GodDamnStableTimeLoops."
The style sounds familiar. Think I’ve met the author of this before. Weird guy. Not going to try and figure out how (or why) he was writing these ancient, crinkled documents.
The contents aren’t exactly boding well. Think I’ll need to make a few calls.
I-330
P.S. Don’t worry about Lisa. She’ll catch on, eventually. Just give her some patience, guys.
Sup everyone. Been ages since I made a post for this blog.
Literally.
But those books I got out of the Library. Thanks to the extensive research I’ve been doing, it didn’t take long to pinpoint the specific passages I was looking for. The passages which some people went to quite a lot of trouble to ensure I wouldn’t be able to read.
I’d say 90% of it is instructions: things you need to gather, rituals you need to perform, locations you need to be at, etc. Instructions for what, you ask? Well, how about we let some mad rantings scribbled onto the paper answer that question in an extremely vague and unhelpful manner.
”It tearsapart the universe rippingholesinto nothingness wherever its mad flight of DESTRUCTION carries it leaving only emptiness behindit the suited demon trailingin its path of BLOOD and SLAUGHTER
trapped in a doomeduniverse where nothingness descends upon all itcan be pulled out, plucked at the last moment from thecrashingtide before silence falls reaching through the gashes it will have created across the realities summoning the suited killer intoour time so that itsjourney may
begin
The style sounds familiar. Think I’ve met the author of this before. Weird guy. Not going to try and figure out how (or why) he was writing these ancient, crinkled documents.
The contents aren’t exactly boding well. Think I’ll need to make a few calls.
I-330
P.S. Don’t worry about Lisa. She’ll catch on, eventually. Just give her some patience, guys.
Friday, November 11, 2011
The Slender Man
That’s what 330 called the thing I saw the other day. The name sounds too silly for something like that, but she’s the expert here. Didn’t tell me what it is, except that it’s a “monster, which will hunt down anyone unlucky enough to become its prey no matter where they run.”
That’s encouraging.
Even less encouraging was the lack of response when I asked what I could do about it. After asking for a while, she just told me she was “working on it,” but that was all. She’s been acting confident about it… but every night, I see her sitting by the front door, with the lights on, constantly on guard….
Right. So. I’ve got a faceless magical monster hunting me. Only a few days ago some people tried to shoot me. But surely 330’s going to figure something out. She’ll pull something out of her sleeve, right?
Oh god I’m so fucked aren’t I.
I didn’t want any of this. I’m not even sure how I got involved in any of this. Things were just going like they always had for me, then 330 showed up and everything went crazy. And I went along, because I didn’t know what else to do, and now I’m in a world with monsters running around, and people with guns, and people who use “I-330” like it’s a reasonable sounding name, and now I’m supposed to be the prey for some faceless monster…..
I never asked for this….
At least, 330 seems to be doing something. Don’t know what exactly, but it looks productive.
Not long after my last post, I learned that there’d been a small fire in Orne Library at Miskatonic. No major damage, just a few books burnt. But apparently those were the books 330 really needed. And they were the only copies available. So she decided that she needed an alternative method of getting the books.
Yesterday, she showed up at the motel with a big bag, then we drove (she just decided to keep the car those three who tried to shoot me were using) to some old abandoned house outside the city. Went down into the cellar, which had a door in the corner. 330 told me to wait there, while she pulled what looked like an oversized gun out of the bag. Asked her what it was.
“A grenade launcher. With a flashlight taped to it.”
Then she went through the door before I could ask where she’d gotten a grenade launcher. Tried to see what was behind it, but it looked pitch black to me. Spent an hour waiting in that cellar. Tried the door a few times, but the handle wouldn’t move.
Then 330 burst out of the door, carrying a book instead of the grenade launcher. She was panting, but smiled and gave me a thumb up. Guess her plan worked? Whatever it was?
When I looked back, the door was gone. Didn’t get a chance to dwell on it, because 330 was dragging me away. Just once I’d like for her to actually explain what she’s doing, instead of pulling me around the place so I can sit somewhere and watch her do stuff I don’t understand. At least this time she’s promised she will sit down and explain things to me. “Later.”
Damn it, that later had better come soon.
-Lisa
That’s encouraging.
Even less encouraging was the lack of response when I asked what I could do about it. After asking for a while, she just told me she was “working on it,” but that was all. She’s been acting confident about it… but every night, I see her sitting by the front door, with the lights on, constantly on guard….
Right. So. I’ve got a faceless magical monster hunting me. Only a few days ago some people tried to shoot me. But surely 330’s going to figure something out. She’ll pull something out of her sleeve, right?
Oh god I’m so fucked aren’t I.
I didn’t want any of this. I’m not even sure how I got involved in any of this. Things were just going like they always had for me, then 330 showed up and everything went crazy. And I went along, because I didn’t know what else to do, and now I’m in a world with monsters running around, and people with guns, and people who use “I-330” like it’s a reasonable sounding name, and now I’m supposed to be the prey for some faceless monster…..
I never asked for this….
At least, 330 seems to be doing something. Don’t know what exactly, but it looks productive.
Not long after my last post, I learned that there’d been a small fire in Orne Library at Miskatonic. No major damage, just a few books burnt. But apparently those were the books 330 really needed. And they were the only copies available. So she decided that she needed an alternative method of getting the books.
Yesterday, she showed up at the motel with a big bag, then we drove (she just decided to keep the car those three who tried to shoot me were using) to some old abandoned house outside the city. Went down into the cellar, which had a door in the corner. 330 told me to wait there, while she pulled what looked like an oversized gun out of the bag. Asked her what it was.
“A grenade launcher. With a flashlight taped to it.”
Then she went through the door before I could ask where she’d gotten a grenade launcher. Tried to see what was behind it, but it looked pitch black to me. Spent an hour waiting in that cellar. Tried the door a few times, but the handle wouldn’t move.
Then 330 burst out of the door, carrying a book instead of the grenade launcher. She was panting, but smiled and gave me a thumb up. Guess her plan worked? Whatever it was?
When I looked back, the door was gone. Didn’t get a chance to dwell on it, because 330 was dragging me away. Just once I’d like for her to actually explain what she’s doing, instead of pulling me around the place so I can sit somewhere and watch her do stuff I don’t understand. At least this time she’s promised she will sit down and explain things to me. “Later.”
Damn it, that later had better come soon.
-Lisa
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Earlier today, I… confronted 330… about this whole thing. After what had happened last night…. Those people were trying to kill me. Like they killed Peter…. I told 330 that I didn’t want to have anything to do with whatever she had going on. I just wanted to return to my life back home, where I could curl up away from the world and be alone, not have to deal with things like this….
She told me I couldn’t leave. That it was too late. Actually got a bit mad at her for saying that, and just walked out the door. She couldn’t tell me whether or not I could leave.
330 followed me out of the motel into the street. No cars out there. Or people. Didn’t think about it at the time; I wanted to go home too badly to think about anything else. 330 kept trying to convince me not to leave, but I ignored her; until she shouted at me to get back inside “Right now!”
Surprise caused me to stop. Then the anger came back, even greater now that she was so directly ordering me. Demanded to know why I should listen to her.
In response, she pointed across the street.
Someone was standing there. Hadn’t noticed them before. A tall man, wearing a business suit. Nothing which would explain 330’s behavior.
Then he was in front of me. There had been no movement in between; he was standing across the street, and then he was standing only a few feet away from me.
Except it wasn’t a he….
It was so tall…. That was my first thought. It towered over me; my head only just reached the bottom of the black tie in its suit. It had to lean its head down to look at me, but… there was no face on that head. The head was smooth, featureless, like polished ivory. It moved a long, thin arm towards me, reaching for my face. No fingers at the end of the arm, just black tendrils which stretched towards me, branching towards me…. Couldn’t look away from that blank head. Couldn’t move at all, not even to blink. The tip of one of its tendrils briefly brushed past my forehead. It burned, as if someone was holding an open flame to my skin. Couldn’t even scream in pain.
Then… it pulled away. The arm went back to its side. And without any warning, it was gone.
For the first time, I realized 330 was standing in front of me. I’d been so focused on that thing, I hadn’t even realized she was between us…. Neither of us said anything. Don’t think I could have just then. She led me back inside, and I curled back under the bed covers for the next few hours.
-Lisa
She told me I couldn’t leave. That it was too late. Actually got a bit mad at her for saying that, and just walked out the door. She couldn’t tell me whether or not I could leave.
330 followed me out of the motel into the street. No cars out there. Or people. Didn’t think about it at the time; I wanted to go home too badly to think about anything else. 330 kept trying to convince me not to leave, but I ignored her; until she shouted at me to get back inside “Right now!”
Surprise caused me to stop. Then the anger came back, even greater now that she was so directly ordering me. Demanded to know why I should listen to her.
In response, she pointed across the street.
Someone was standing there. Hadn’t noticed them before. A tall man, wearing a business suit. Nothing which would explain 330’s behavior.
Then he was in front of me. There had been no movement in between; he was standing across the street, and then he was standing only a few feet away from me.
Except it wasn’t a he….
It was so tall…. That was my first thought. It towered over me; my head only just reached the bottom of the black tie in its suit. It had to lean its head down to look at me, but… there was no face on that head. The head was smooth, featureless, like polished ivory. It moved a long, thin arm towards me, reaching for my face. No fingers at the end of the arm, just black tendrils which stretched towards me, branching towards me…. Couldn’t look away from that blank head. Couldn’t move at all, not even to blink. The tip of one of its tendrils briefly brushed past my forehead. It burned, as if someone was holding an open flame to my skin. Couldn’t even scream in pain.
Then… it pulled away. The arm went back to its side. And without any warning, it was gone.
For the first time, I realized 330 was standing in front of me. I’d been so focused on that thing, I hadn’t even realized she was between us…. Neither of us said anything. Don’t think I could have just then. She led me back inside, and I curled back under the bed covers for the next few hours.
-Lisa
I just…. I mean…. Fuck…. Fucking hell….
Thanks for the comment Dia, but no, I am not fucking okay….
Did what 330 told me to do. Went to my room, locked the door, eventually I got tired and went to sleep. Spent a while tossing around, still couldn’t get the questions I needed to ask 330, or her prior actions, out of my head, but eventually I drifted off.
Woke up to the sound of the front door being torn open, followed by what sounded like really loud firecrackers going off.
Panicked, didn’t know what was going on, but did what 330 told me to. Didn’t leave my room.
Could hear men screaming outside my door. Some in anger, some in pain. Listened for 330, but couldn’t hear any sign of her. Until… I heard her scream… like some wordless cry of rage…. Followed by a loud boom, and a blue light which shone through the crack under my door.
Heard something tapping against my window. Started out as a regular beat, then grew faster until it sounded like a hailstorm being pelted against my window. I didn’t want to look, but couldn’t stop my legs from standing up, and walking over to the window, where I opened the blinds….
Then suddenly I’m outside, lying on the grass behind Peter’s house, pinned down by 330. I was struggling against her… don’t know why. Stopped when I realized what I was doing.
Once I’d stopped fighting, 330… and I think this caught me more off guard than anything else which had happened to me so far… pulled me off the ground and hugged me. I don’t think I’ve even been hugged since I was, I dunno, six or something? Had no idea what I was supposed to do…. Am I supposed to hug back? Should I just stand there and do nothing? Are my arms supposed to be at my sides, or what? And I’d never thought of 330 as the hugging sort anyways…. Plus she kept whispering, “Thank god you’re alright.”
Then the temperature just dropped. Never felt it get so cold so quickly before. 330 pulled away from me, hands clutching her head. When she spoke, it was through gritted teeth.
“Run.”
I just stood there. Still lost, still desperately trying to catch up with what was happening to me.
“Run!” The wind picked up into a roar as if to underscore the word. My legs started to move before my brain fully registered the command. Ran towards Peter’s house; didn’t look back.
As I got closer to the house, four people came out. Didn’t recognize any of them…. All four were wearing some kind of military looking uniform. When they saw me… one shouted something like, “That’s one of them!”, and ran towards me. Two of them grabbed me by the arms; when I tried to fight back, they punched me in the gut. That stopped my resistance pretty fast… they started to drag me to a car parked by the house. The howling wind was only getting louder, sounding as vicious as a hurricane. One of the men pulled out a pistol and turned back the way we’d come from, while the rest kept pulling me along. Barely, I could hear the sound of two shots, then a scream….
They threw me into the back seat of the car; one got in the back with me, the other two sat in the front. Soon as the doors were shut, the engine was turned on and the car peeled down the street. Now that I was sitting in a car and no one appeared to be planning to hit me again, I could actually look at my kidnappers. The one in the back with me was, surprisingly enough, a woman, with short blond hair. Kept glaring at me. The man driving was a huge guy, muscles everywhere, with a shaved head. Guy in the passenger seat looked the youngest…. He kept twirling a knife around, and I really didn’t like the way he was leering at me….
Didn’t say anything while they drove down out of the neighborhood, and down some forested back roads. Couldn’t have, even if I wanted to. The other three talked for a short time during the drive; most of it I don’t remember, except for this part:
“This is only the second person. Weren’t we supposed to get all three?” That was the woman sitting next to me.
The driver laughed once; sounded almost like a cough. “You want to go back and try to face her again? If the boss had wanted us to kill her, he should have warned us she was some kind of god damn monster before he sent us in. If we’re lucky, the tall guy will kill her for us and we can go back to safer jobs, like fucking bare handed piranha fishing.”
The drive lasted… I don’t know, maybe half an hour? A lot of that had been spent bumping along a dirt road. Trees were thick enough I could barely see the moon, so the only light was from the car. Upon stopping, everyone got out, pulling me with them. The driver… I think he might have been the leader… lit a deer path with a flashlight, and started to walk down it. The other two kept behind me, making sure I followed him.
I wasn’t exactly wearing the right clothes for back trail hiking. Didn’t even have shoes on. A rock cut the bottom of my foot, and I nearly fell. Knife guy caught me and pushed me forward, but walking was hard with an injury like that. Only made it a few more steps when I fell again.
“We’re far enough in,” The leader said, “We’ll just carry the body the rest of the way.”
Soon as I heard those words, everything started to move so slowly. He reached down to the holster on his hip, and wrapped his fingers around the pistol’s handle. Pulled it out, and pointed it at my head. I couldn’t move. Could only look at the gun, not fully accepting what I was seeing. He tightened his finger on the trigger….
Then everything sped back up. 330 leapt out of the shadows, and pushed the man’s arm away right as he fired, causing the bullet to go wild. She had a bloody knife in her hand, which she used to slash the man’s throat open. The other two cursed, but 330 had vanished back into the shadows before either could react. Then she was behind the knife guy; he tried to turn around, but she broke the knife out of his grasp, and stabbed him through the chest with it. The blond woman had pulled out a pistol of her own and fired it towards 330, but it passed harmlessly through the darkness. Suddenly 330 was in front of her, and stabbed her through the eye.
It had only taken a few seconds before all three were dead. 330 tossed the knife aside, walked over to where I was lying, and offered a blood soaked hand…. At which point I fainted. Too much for me to take.
I awoke briefly, finding myself in the passenger seat of a car 330 was driving, with her coat placed over me like a blanket. I think I asked her some questions, and she might have replied, but I don’t remember any of it. Wasn’t long before I was out again.
That time, when I woke up, it was inside a motel room. My foot had been bandaged, and the sun was coming in through the windows. 330 was sitting beside the bed I was in. Asked her why we weren’t at Peter’s house.
“The people who attacked us burned it down.”
But…. Then what happened to Peter?
“They killed him.”
…. But…. I mean…. Fuck, he can’t be dead….. What the hell happened last night?
Thanks for the comment Dia, but no, I am not fucking okay….
Did what 330 told me to do. Went to my room, locked the door, eventually I got tired and went to sleep. Spent a while tossing around, still couldn’t get the questions I needed to ask 330, or her prior actions, out of my head, but eventually I drifted off.
Woke up to the sound of the front door being torn open, followed by what sounded like really loud firecrackers going off.
Panicked, didn’t know what was going on, but did what 330 told me to. Didn’t leave my room.
Could hear men screaming outside my door. Some in anger, some in pain. Listened for 330, but couldn’t hear any sign of her. Until… I heard her scream… like some wordless cry of rage…. Followed by a loud boom, and a blue light which shone through the crack under my door.
Heard something tapping against my window. Started out as a regular beat, then grew faster until it sounded like a hailstorm being pelted against my window. I didn’t want to look, but couldn’t stop my legs from standing up, and walking over to the window, where I opened the blinds….
Then suddenly I’m outside, lying on the grass behind Peter’s house, pinned down by 330. I was struggling against her… don’t know why. Stopped when I realized what I was doing.
Once I’d stopped fighting, 330… and I think this caught me more off guard than anything else which had happened to me so far… pulled me off the ground and hugged me. I don’t think I’ve even been hugged since I was, I dunno, six or something? Had no idea what I was supposed to do…. Am I supposed to hug back? Should I just stand there and do nothing? Are my arms supposed to be at my sides, or what? And I’d never thought of 330 as the hugging sort anyways…. Plus she kept whispering, “Thank god you’re alright.”
Then the temperature just dropped. Never felt it get so cold so quickly before. 330 pulled away from me, hands clutching her head. When she spoke, it was through gritted teeth.
“Run.”
I just stood there. Still lost, still desperately trying to catch up with what was happening to me.
“Run!” The wind picked up into a roar as if to underscore the word. My legs started to move before my brain fully registered the command. Ran towards Peter’s house; didn’t look back.
As I got closer to the house, four people came out. Didn’t recognize any of them…. All four were wearing some kind of military looking uniform. When they saw me… one shouted something like, “That’s one of them!”, and ran towards me. Two of them grabbed me by the arms; when I tried to fight back, they punched me in the gut. That stopped my resistance pretty fast… they started to drag me to a car parked by the house. The howling wind was only getting louder, sounding as vicious as a hurricane. One of the men pulled out a pistol and turned back the way we’d come from, while the rest kept pulling me along. Barely, I could hear the sound of two shots, then a scream….
They threw me into the back seat of the car; one got in the back with me, the other two sat in the front. Soon as the doors were shut, the engine was turned on and the car peeled down the street. Now that I was sitting in a car and no one appeared to be planning to hit me again, I could actually look at my kidnappers. The one in the back with me was, surprisingly enough, a woman, with short blond hair. Kept glaring at me. The man driving was a huge guy, muscles everywhere, with a shaved head. Guy in the passenger seat looked the youngest…. He kept twirling a knife around, and I really didn’t like the way he was leering at me….
Didn’t say anything while they drove down out of the neighborhood, and down some forested back roads. Couldn’t have, even if I wanted to. The other three talked for a short time during the drive; most of it I don’t remember, except for this part:
“This is only the second person. Weren’t we supposed to get all three?” That was the woman sitting next to me.
The driver laughed once; sounded almost like a cough. “You want to go back and try to face her again? If the boss had wanted us to kill her, he should have warned us she was some kind of god damn monster before he sent us in. If we’re lucky, the tall guy will kill her for us and we can go back to safer jobs, like fucking bare handed piranha fishing.”
The drive lasted… I don’t know, maybe half an hour? A lot of that had been spent bumping along a dirt road. Trees were thick enough I could barely see the moon, so the only light was from the car. Upon stopping, everyone got out, pulling me with them. The driver… I think he might have been the leader… lit a deer path with a flashlight, and started to walk down it. The other two kept behind me, making sure I followed him.
I wasn’t exactly wearing the right clothes for back trail hiking. Didn’t even have shoes on. A rock cut the bottom of my foot, and I nearly fell. Knife guy caught me and pushed me forward, but walking was hard with an injury like that. Only made it a few more steps when I fell again.
“We’re far enough in,” The leader said, “We’ll just carry the body the rest of the way.”
Soon as I heard those words, everything started to move so slowly. He reached down to the holster on his hip, and wrapped his fingers around the pistol’s handle. Pulled it out, and pointed it at my head. I couldn’t move. Could only look at the gun, not fully accepting what I was seeing. He tightened his finger on the trigger….
Then everything sped back up. 330 leapt out of the shadows, and pushed the man’s arm away right as he fired, causing the bullet to go wild. She had a bloody knife in her hand, which she used to slash the man’s throat open. The other two cursed, but 330 had vanished back into the shadows before either could react. Then she was behind the knife guy; he tried to turn around, but she broke the knife out of his grasp, and stabbed him through the chest with it. The blond woman had pulled out a pistol of her own and fired it towards 330, but it passed harmlessly through the darkness. Suddenly 330 was in front of her, and stabbed her through the eye.
It had only taken a few seconds before all three were dead. 330 tossed the knife aside, walked over to where I was lying, and offered a blood soaked hand…. At which point I fainted. Too much for me to take.
I awoke briefly, finding myself in the passenger seat of a car 330 was driving, with her coat placed over me like a blanket. I think I asked her some questions, and she might have replied, but I don’t remember any of it. Wasn’t long before I was out again.
That time, when I woke up, it was inside a motel room. My foot had been bandaged, and the sun was coming in through the windows. 330 was sitting beside the bed I was in. Asked her why we weren’t at Peter’s house.
“The people who attacked us burned it down.”
But…. Then what happened to Peter?
“They killed him.”
…. But…. I mean…. Fuck, he can’t be dead….. What the hell happened last night?
Monday, November 7, 2011
330 didn’t come back at all last night. Peter and I got worried enough that he went out to check; when he came back, it was only to report that 330 was still in the library, behind a wall of ridiculously old books.
It wasn’t until this evening that she finally returned. When I heard the door open, I went over so I could talk to her. But she wasn’t exactly in the most conversing of moods…. Reached the entrance just as she was closing the door. She locked every lock on the door, even the bolt and chain, quickly looked out the peephole, grabbed the small stack of books she’d brought in, paused just long enough to smile and say hello, then rushed off into the living room, all before I could form a sentence in my head. When I checked on her in the living room, she was doing the same thing she’d been doing at the library: looking over several books, occasionally writing something down in a notebook. I didn’t want to distract her, but I needed some of my questions answered.
Sat down on a couch directly opposite 330. “So… um… Peter showed me a photo album of his.” I said, hoping to provoke a response.
She didn’t look up from her book, but smiled. “He still has that old thing lying around?”
“Yes… and… um… I saw some photos of you in it….”
Still didn’t look up. “Really? I hope none of them are too embarrassing.”
Waited for her to say something more, but that was it. The silence lengthened, and just as I was going to press the question, Peter walked into the room.
“I-330! I didn’t realize you’d gotten back. Anything I can help you with?”
“Yeah; you still have those notes you made on the Necro’ a while back?”
From then on, the conversation became unintelligible to me. Sat on the couch awkwardly for a while, listening to the two toss around words I’d never heard. Didn’t know what to do, so I was relieved when I heard a knock at the door. Muttered that I’d get it, then walked to the front of the house and opened the door.
Didn’t see anyone outside when I looked; made me wonder if I actually had heard any knocking. Closed the door, turned around, and Holy Shit 330’s standing right behind me how did she sneak up on me without making a sound like that.
Wordlessly, she stepped past me and re-locked everything on the door. Then she started going to all the windows, and closed the blinds. I followed her through the house, not really sure what was going on. Every single window, even in mine and Peter’s rooms.
When she finished, I asked her what she was doing. She paused for a long time. Caught a brief glance of her face before she turned away; she looked… conflicted. Like she was arguing inside her head.
She turned back to face me, and put her right hand on my shoulder. “Lisa, it’s getting late. You probably should turn in for the night.”
Um. What? It was only 7:30. That’s… not exactly late.
Started to protest, but… couldn’t. She had this hard look in her eye…. Never seen her so serious before. “Just go to your room, and lock the door.” She said. “No matter what, do not come out unless I come to get you.”
I did what she told me to. I’ve been sitting here inside my room for about an hour now; nothing’s happened. Gave me time to write this. Don’t know why 330’s acting like this, but it’s really making me nervous…. And I still didn’t get to ask her anything….
-Lisa
It wasn’t until this evening that she finally returned. When I heard the door open, I went over so I could talk to her. But she wasn’t exactly in the most conversing of moods…. Reached the entrance just as she was closing the door. She locked every lock on the door, even the bolt and chain, quickly looked out the peephole, grabbed the small stack of books she’d brought in, paused just long enough to smile and say hello, then rushed off into the living room, all before I could form a sentence in my head. When I checked on her in the living room, she was doing the same thing she’d been doing at the library: looking over several books, occasionally writing something down in a notebook. I didn’t want to distract her, but I needed some of my questions answered.
Sat down on a couch directly opposite 330. “So… um… Peter showed me a photo album of his.” I said, hoping to provoke a response.
She didn’t look up from her book, but smiled. “He still has that old thing lying around?”
“Yes… and… um… I saw some photos of you in it….”
Still didn’t look up. “Really? I hope none of them are too embarrassing.”
Waited for her to say something more, but that was it. The silence lengthened, and just as I was going to press the question, Peter walked into the room.
“I-330! I didn’t realize you’d gotten back. Anything I can help you with?”
“Yeah; you still have those notes you made on the Necro’ a while back?”
From then on, the conversation became unintelligible to me. Sat on the couch awkwardly for a while, listening to the two toss around words I’d never heard. Didn’t know what to do, so I was relieved when I heard a knock at the door. Muttered that I’d get it, then walked to the front of the house and opened the door.
Didn’t see anyone outside when I looked; made me wonder if I actually had heard any knocking. Closed the door, turned around, and Holy Shit 330’s standing right behind me how did she sneak up on me without making a sound like that.
Wordlessly, she stepped past me and re-locked everything on the door. Then she started going to all the windows, and closed the blinds. I followed her through the house, not really sure what was going on. Every single window, even in mine and Peter’s rooms.
When she finished, I asked her what she was doing. She paused for a long time. Caught a brief glance of her face before she turned away; she looked… conflicted. Like she was arguing inside her head.
She turned back to face me, and put her right hand on my shoulder. “Lisa, it’s getting late. You probably should turn in for the night.”
Um. What? It was only 7:30. That’s… not exactly late.
Started to protest, but… couldn’t. She had this hard look in her eye…. Never seen her so serious before. “Just go to your room, and lock the door.” She said. “No matter what, do not come out unless I come to get you.”
I did what she told me to. I’ve been sitting here inside my room for about an hour now; nothing’s happened. Gave me time to write this. Don’t know why 330’s acting like this, but it’s really making me nervous…. And I still didn’t get to ask her anything….
-Lisa
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Photographs
Been a few days now. Haven’t done as much as I’d thought we’d do; 330 went straight to the library the morning after we arrived, and rarely comes out. Peter sometimes goes to help her, but he’s also got classes to teach. I spent the whole first day in the room I’d been given; Youtubed a few episodes from the 11th Doctor. Think I like Tennant better, to be honest.
Yesterday, I probably would have done the same if 330 hadn’t suggested to Peter that he take me on a tour of the university. Since he didn’t have any classes until the afternoon, he agreed.
Miskatonic has a beautiful campus… if I had ever gone to a college, this is where I’d have wanted to go. Peter talked a bit about his job there: working as a professor at Miskatonic has been one of his family’s tradition for almost as long as the university’s been around.
We ended up getting lunch at a little sandwich place just off campus. Peter’s a bit of a talker…. Which is good, because without him providing most of the conversation, we’d have been sitting in silence. Most of the parts where I did talk consisted of me answering questions about 330. He laughed when I said I’ve known her for about two months now; told me that “Last time I saw I-330, she only stayed for a week, and it was the most interesting week of my life. Can’t imagine what two whole months would be like.” Didn’t know how to tell him that most of that time was spent watching Doctor Who.
He asked about what kind of “adventures” 330 had been dragging me on; told him he wouldn’t believe me. He claimed he would. So… I told him about the Black Dog….
Like I had expected, he laughed.
Not like I had expected, he following the laughter with “That’s all? I-330 must be cutting back on the excitement.”
What?
He must have saw my surprise, because he asked, “You’re more in the dark about all of this than I am, aren’t you?”
Yeah, looks like that.
He had to go teach his classes after that, but said he’s tell me more that night.
Didn’t do much else for the rest of the day. 330 was still off at the library when Peter got back. He went up to his room and brought down an old looking book, which he laid down on the kitchen table. Started flipping through pages covered in photographs, stopping at a point near the start of the book. The photos on those pages were ancient, but carefully preserved. Peter pointed at a browning, cracked picture of two people standing on a hill overlooking a town. “The man on the right is my grandfather, Richard Walsh, not long after he became a professor. As for the one on the left… well, I’m sure you recognize her.”
I did. It sounds stupidly impossible, but I recognized her instantly. I-330, wearing her usual outfit and scowling slightly at whoever was taking the picture. Not just someone who looked like her, this was 330, in a photograph which Peter said to be from the 1920s. There were a few differences…. She didn’t have the vertical scar running down her face (though she still had the curved one on her cheek) and her hair was a bit shorter, but it was still 330.
“What happened to her arm?” Had to ask. The left sleeve of her coat hung empty, as though she didn’t have an arm at all.
Peter grimaced, and I could tell I’d asked the wrong question. “That’s a story she’ll have to tell you herself,” he said as he started flipping pages again. The next photo he stopped on was much newer, and in color. 330 was in the center, still lacking the vertical scar, but her left arm was present (and her hand gloved, like I’ve always seen.) There were two others in the photo: an older looking man, and a little boy.
“That’s my grandpa again on the left,” Peter said, “and the little one’s me. First time I saw I-330, I was six years old. Believe me, she was really the sort who left an impression on you. I spent years telling my grandfather that I didn’t want to be a professor; I wanted to become an adventurer and run away with I-330.”
For a few moments Peter stared into space. Wanted to ask him questions, but kept silent and waited for him to continue.
Eventually, he started turning pages again, and stopped at a newer picture. This one… caught me a bit off guard. It was a group of college students, maybe around a dozen (I didn’t count). In the center, arm over the shoulder of a surprisingly young looking Peter, and with a huge grin on her face, was 330. I could tell it was her, but… it was the most different I’d seen her in any of the photos. The only scar on her face was the curved cheek one, her hair was the shortest I’ve ever seen (barely reaching past her shoulders), no glove over her left hand, and no eye patch. I’d gotten so used to that eye patch…. Looking at both blue eyes staring back at me felt weird.
“Bit of a startling change, isn’t it?” Peter’s voice made me jump; I hadn’t been aware of hose intensely I’d been staring at the photo. “Never did get an explanation from her about it. That was the last time I saw her for years, until she called me out of the blue a few days ago.”
“But how did she get into all these photos?”
“Well, I can’t say for sure, but I had theories. I used to think she was an immortal with healing abilities….” I must have given him an odd look at that, because he quickly defended it with, “I’ve encountered stranger things. But now that I’m seeing her again with all the same scars as when I was a kid, plus a new one, I’m not sure. However she does it, she’s never told me.”
The conversation didn’t last long after that. My fault; I’d mostly stopped being responsive so I could focus on the photos. I need to figure out what’s going on there….
-Lisa
Yesterday, I probably would have done the same if 330 hadn’t suggested to Peter that he take me on a tour of the university. Since he didn’t have any classes until the afternoon, he agreed.
Miskatonic has a beautiful campus… if I had ever gone to a college, this is where I’d have wanted to go. Peter talked a bit about his job there: working as a professor at Miskatonic has been one of his family’s tradition for almost as long as the university’s been around.
We ended up getting lunch at a little sandwich place just off campus. Peter’s a bit of a talker…. Which is good, because without him providing most of the conversation, we’d have been sitting in silence. Most of the parts where I did talk consisted of me answering questions about 330. He laughed when I said I’ve known her for about two months now; told me that “Last time I saw I-330, she only stayed for a week, and it was the most interesting week of my life. Can’t imagine what two whole months would be like.” Didn’t know how to tell him that most of that time was spent watching Doctor Who.
He asked about what kind of “adventures” 330 had been dragging me on; told him he wouldn’t believe me. He claimed he would. So… I told him about the Black Dog….
Like I had expected, he laughed.
Not like I had expected, he following the laughter with “That’s all? I-330 must be cutting back on the excitement.”
What?
He must have saw my surprise, because he asked, “You’re more in the dark about all of this than I am, aren’t you?”
Yeah, looks like that.
He had to go teach his classes after that, but said he’s tell me more that night.
Didn’t do much else for the rest of the day. 330 was still off at the library when Peter got back. He went up to his room and brought down an old looking book, which he laid down on the kitchen table. Started flipping through pages covered in photographs, stopping at a point near the start of the book. The photos on those pages were ancient, but carefully preserved. Peter pointed at a browning, cracked picture of two people standing on a hill overlooking a town. “The man on the right is my grandfather, Richard Walsh, not long after he became a professor. As for the one on the left… well, I’m sure you recognize her.”
I did. It sounds stupidly impossible, but I recognized her instantly. I-330, wearing her usual outfit and scowling slightly at whoever was taking the picture. Not just someone who looked like her, this was 330, in a photograph which Peter said to be from the 1920s. There were a few differences…. She didn’t have the vertical scar running down her face (though she still had the curved one on her cheek) and her hair was a bit shorter, but it was still 330.
“What happened to her arm?” Had to ask. The left sleeve of her coat hung empty, as though she didn’t have an arm at all.
Peter grimaced, and I could tell I’d asked the wrong question. “That’s a story she’ll have to tell you herself,” he said as he started flipping pages again. The next photo he stopped on was much newer, and in color. 330 was in the center, still lacking the vertical scar, but her left arm was present (and her hand gloved, like I’ve always seen.) There were two others in the photo: an older looking man, and a little boy.
“That’s my grandpa again on the left,” Peter said, “and the little one’s me. First time I saw I-330, I was six years old. Believe me, she was really the sort who left an impression on you. I spent years telling my grandfather that I didn’t want to be a professor; I wanted to become an adventurer and run away with I-330.”
For a few moments Peter stared into space. Wanted to ask him questions, but kept silent and waited for him to continue.
Eventually, he started turning pages again, and stopped at a newer picture. This one… caught me a bit off guard. It was a group of college students, maybe around a dozen (I didn’t count). In the center, arm over the shoulder of a surprisingly young looking Peter, and with a huge grin on her face, was 330. I could tell it was her, but… it was the most different I’d seen her in any of the photos. The only scar on her face was the curved cheek one, her hair was the shortest I’ve ever seen (barely reaching past her shoulders), no glove over her left hand, and no eye patch. I’d gotten so used to that eye patch…. Looking at both blue eyes staring back at me felt weird.
“Bit of a startling change, isn’t it?” Peter’s voice made me jump; I hadn’t been aware of hose intensely I’d been staring at the photo. “Never did get an explanation from her about it. That was the last time I saw her for years, until she called me out of the blue a few days ago.”
“But how did she get into all these photos?”
“Well, I can’t say for sure, but I had theories. I used to think she was an immortal with healing abilities….” I must have given him an odd look at that, because he quickly defended it with, “I’ve encountered stranger things. But now that I’m seeing her again with all the same scars as when I was a kid, plus a new one, I’m not sure. However she does it, she’s never told me.”
The conversation didn’t last long after that. My fault; I’d mostly stopped being responsive so I could focus on the photos. I need to figure out what’s going on there….
-Lisa
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