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
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