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
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
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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