July 4, 2012 - Southern Louisiana

545

It still happened. I tried to change things, but it still happened.

When I had been Lisa, we’d gone together to stop the ritual. That obviously didn’t work, so this time, after parking our car and walking through the narrow muddy trail that ran between the swamp water, I told Lisa to stay where she was and wait for me to come back. She protested, but I reminded her that she’d agreed to do exactly as I told her.

Alone, I continued ahead. Didn’t take long before I started to hear the wild chanting and see the torches flickering over the water.

A clearing had been made among the trees there. In the center, a wooden stage had been built, around which the cultists danced to the pounding drums. Jacob Olmstead was on the stage, carefully chalking out sigils onto the floor. And next to him, overseeing his progress, was Grendel.

I walked toward the stage, and as the cultists saw me, they stopped their dance and stepped aside. Olmstead nearly dropped his chalk when he saw me. “How did you find us here-”

Grendel snapped his fingers and Olmstead’s mouth closed mid-sentence. “Sweetheart!” Grendel said. “How wonderful of you to join us here!”

Ignored him. Didn’t want to look at him if I didn’t have to. “You all need to get out of here right now. The Slender Man is going to be showing up any minute.”

That surprised most of them, but Grendel was unfazed. “Yes, I know.” He said. “Why do you think I chose this location for the ritual if not for that?”

Olmstead nervously approached Grendel. “My lord… what do you mean, you know?”

“Hm? Oh, yes.” Grendel addressed the cult. “By the way, you’re all going to die here.”

Stunned silence. Olmstead only managed to say “What-” before he arched back and screamed in pain. Then black branches erupted from his eyes and mouth. More branches tore out from under his skin, growing from him until, where Jacob Olmstead had stood, there was instead a black barked tree with bloody skin and organs hanging from its leafless branches.

Someone in the crowd screamed, but everyone fell silent as they felt a chill fall on them. The Slender Man stood in their midst, tentacles growing from its back in preparation to strike.

The cultists were massacred in seconds. Most were ripped to pieces where they stood, and none of those who tried running made it past the edge of the clearing before being killed. I tried shooting the Slender Man, but couldn’t focus on the timelines. With both the Slender Man and Grendel present, there were too many distortions, too many black patches along the lines. All my shots went wild.

Once the cultists were dead, the Slender Man withdrew its tentacles. Grendel jumped off the stage and walked toward it. “Finally you’ve arrived!” He said. “Truly, this is the moment I have waited for!”

“Stay out of my way, Grendel.” I said. “I don’t need your help.”

“Oh? So did you also happen to bring a weapon capable of harming gods?”

“….”

“Didn’t think so.” He flicked his wrist, and his flaming sword appeared. “Now if you’ll excuse me, dear…” Grendel vanished, reappearing right in front of Slender Man. He swung his sword, it blocked with a tentacle. The fight had begun.

Grendel warped all over the clearing, parrying, dodging, trying to attack. More Grendels appeared as he leapt up and down the timeline, two, three, four Grendels, swarming around the Slender Man. It stood perfectly still, lettings its tentacles block every attack.

No matter how hard Grendel pressed his assault, not one swing could break past the defense. He began attacking with greater ferocity, ignoring his own safety. One of the Grendels was impaled by a tentacle and thrown into the air. But by the time that Grendel hit the ground, the wound had healed and he was running back into the fight.

Seemed like a stalemate. Grendel couldn’t land a single hit on the Slender Man, but no matter how much the Slender Man tore Grendel apart, his body would reform in moments.

Maybe patience isn’t a virtue for eldritch creatures, because soon the Slender Man ended the fight. More tentacles than I could count came out of its body, faster than even Grendel could react. All present iterations of him were stabbed through, and all disappeared save one. That one was slammed into the ground, from which black hands rose and pinned him down.

Then the Slender Man looked at me. I fired the rest of my bullets at it, but to no effect. Looked down to pull a fresh clip out of my coat, and when I looked up it was standing only a foot away from me. It placed a hand over my face, and my entire body froze. I felt it inside my mind, pulling up and making me relive memories. And, well, let’s just say… I don’t have many pleasant memories.

Lisa must have heard me screaming, because she came running into the clearing, gun drawn. Dammit dammit dammit, I told her to stay back and wait for me!

Soon as she was in the clearing, the Slender Man’s arms turned into tentacles and shot towards her. No way she’d be able to avoid them. But then Grendel suddenly appeared behind her, and swung his sword. As the sword passed through the air, it left a trail behind it, forming a crack of nothing behind Lisa. When the swing was complete, Grendel hit the crack with his free hand. And shards of reality fell away, creating a gaping hole. Lisa barely could look back before she fell into it. The Slender Man’s tentacles continued onward, but Grendel grabbed the edges of the hole and slammed it close just as the tentacles reached it, causing them to hit Grendel instead.

But the Slender Man wasn’t interested in attacking Grendel anymore, and it withdrew its tentacle from him and vanished soon as it was clear Lisa was gone. Grendel started to talk to me, probably saying something smug, but I have no idea what the words were. I’d failed. I thought I could change things, but… she still was taken from me.

If there was any justice in this world, I’d have been given time to grieve. But there isn’t. The realization that I’d fucked up was only just going through my head when I felt two more Fears appear nearby. Man in a gas mask and a pillar of water rising from the swamp: the Archangel and EAT. Nothing to worry about, I thought. Given our past interactions, I didn’t believe we had any reason for conflict.

That turned out to be wrong. The water whipped at me like a giant tentacle, only stopped from smashing me when Grendel appeared in the way and cut through it with his sword. The whip lost form and dropped into a puddle, but more tendrils were rising from the swamp water.

Then the Archangel raised the palm of a hand toward me. The grass in front of it began to wither and rot, trees bent and died. This wave of death spread from that hand toward me, until Grendel appeared in front of me. The wave hit him and stopped; his skin cracked and melted, but he stood solidly between me and it.

“What the hell’s going on?” I shouted. “Why are they attacking me?”

“All part of Archangel’s machinations, dear.” Grendel grunted in reply. Most of his skin was gone, revealing the crawling black shadows underneath which were struggling to maintain human form. “For this universe to go down the timeline the Fears want, they’ve got exactly six minutes after the girl falls into the Quiet to kill you.”

“What happens in six minutes?”

“You’re going to make a very rash decision that screws everything up.”

No more conversation after that; the shadow thing that was Grendel couldn’t form a functioning mouth anymore. Hell, he was having a hard enough time with the rest of the body; as the Archangel continued its assault, Grendel less resembled a human and increasingly turned into a mass of shadowy tentacles covered in eyes and teeth.

I wasn’t paying any mind to that, though. Looked back at the place where Lisa had fallen away. Couldn’t believe I’d failed so easily. Am I really so powerless? I can do so much, but I can’t even change the flow of time a little bit? That can’t be. I can’t accept that. I’ll never accept that. I already said that the whole universe can go to hell, and I meant it. I’m not going to lose her.

Just then several of EAT’s tendrils swung toward me. Another Grendel, this one still in his human form, appeared and cut through them with his sword. Soon as he came near me, I said, “Grendel. Is there any way I can save her?”

He smiled that creepy predator grin at me. “Six minutes on the dot!” Grabbed my arm, and pulled me into the timelines, away from that swamp.

We ended up in a desert somewhere. No Fears or anything eldritch there. “Well? Are you going to answer my question?”

Grendel kept smiling. “There is a certain ritual. One which I’m sure you’re fairly familiar with.”

Then he explained. In hindsight… it’s a bit obvious. After all, it’s not as though I haven’t seen a ritual designed to pull something out of the Quiet before.

“Although,” Grendel continued, “you’ll need something much more powerful than the base ritual I gave to Lupine in order to accomplish your goal. But I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Yeah thanks for the specificity there, Grendel.

That wasn’t the end of his lecture, unfortunately. Having gotten what I asked for, I was about to leave, when he started talking again. “You won’t be able to succeed as you are now.”

“Well thanks for the fucking vote of confidence, but I don’t need your opinion. I can handle myself.”

“Yes, you were doing such a wonderful job of it back there against the Fears.”

“Fuck you.” But he was right, damn him. So I listened.

“It’s about time you embraced your heritage.” The skin on his left hand peeled back, showing the shadows underneath. “There’s a very interesting archeological expedition happening in Egypt, circa 1910s. You’d recognize the name of its leader: Richard Walsh. Grandfather of Peter Walsh.”

“…I’ll look into it.”

“Wonderful!” He took a bow. “I’ll let Daddy know the prodigal daughter’s on her way home!” Then he was gone.

Getting advice from Grendel… thinking about it makes me feel sick. But I’ll do it for Lisa. If it means saving her, I’ll do anything. No matter how much it repulses me.

Don’t worry, Lisa. I’m going to save you.

I-330

Apparently my Enemies are Super Villains

I’d noticed that 330 had been acting odd for a few days now. Almost seemed like she was trying to delay our trip as much as she could short of physically preventing it.

That suspicion was confirmed when, just a day away from the Louisiana state border, she sat me down and said, “What would I need to do to convince you to give up pursuing the Order of Dagon?”

Well that came out of nowhere. “Why?”

She started to speak, stopped, started again, “It… it won’t end well for you if you do.”

“330, do you know what’s going to happen?”

She nodded.

“What?”

Didn’t answer.

“Do you know what they’re planning to do?”

Nodded again.

“What is it?”

Again no answer.

“330, what would happen if I don’t try to stop them?”

She paused for so long I thought she was ignoring this question too. “The human race will be wiped out.”

That… was not what I expected. I knew they were a suspicious cult, but destroying humanity? That’s not creepy cult; that’s straight up super Hitler territory.

“There... there’s no way I can ignore something like that” I said. “Wiping out the human race? There’s no way I can stand aside and not try to stop them.”

“No. You couldn’t, could you?” 330 looked down and laughed. “I’m just being my selfish self again. Holding a single person above the whole planet.”

“You’re not selfish!”

She looked back up to me. “You have no idea how selfish I can be.” Without warning, she grabbed me by the shoulder and kissed me. And for a time the entire preceding conversation was pushed out of my mind.

Later that night, I was lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. I’d thought 330 had fallen asleep next to me, but then she started to speak.

“Nothing I say is going to convince you not to go, huh?”

This time I was the one not to answer.

“Alright.” She rolled over to face me. “Fine. I know exactly where they’ll be and when they’ll be meeting. I can take us straight there. But… when we get there, I need you to do exactly what I tell you to. No matter what happens. Can you do that?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Just remember: Exactly as I say.” Then she rolled over and went to sleep.

-Lisa

June 30, 2012 - Columbia, South Carolina

542

Should I try to stop this trip, knowing what I do? This is where it begins, in the torch lit night of the swamps. Lisa falls through the crack into an alternate universe’s 1880s. She takes up the name Elizabeth, leading to all the events which brought about my creation.

If it doesn’t happen, if Lisa doesn’t fall through the crack… that’d be a pretty big paradox. Not sure what would happen to me. Not sure what would happen to this universe. The whole thing might poof out of existence or something.

Do I risk that? If I stop this, everything could collapse. But if I don’t, I’ll… I’ll….

I shouldn’t be thinking these kinds of things. I know what we are. I know how weird it is that I’m feeling this way toward her. But… she’s all I have. I’ve had lovers across the centuries, but she’s the only person who really knows me. She’s seen me with my defenses down, with all the bravado gone and my weakness plain, and she still hasn’t rejected me. Is there anyone else, in all of time, who would do that?

And so what if we are the same person? Are we really the same person? Maybe we once were, but all the years have changed me so much. She’s good and kind, and I’m… I’m not. I’m nothing like that. Hell, we don’t even have the same body!

You know what? I don’t care. The whole universe can go straight to hell. I won’t let her be taken from me. I can’t lose her too. I’ll stop this.

I-330

Back to Innsmouth

Innsmouth turned out to be a lot more exciting than I expected.

The town looked abandoned when we drove up to it. The FBI did a good job clearing it out last time I was here. Whole place was a ghost town. A dank, foggy, creepy ghost town.

We had planned to spend most of the day searching the Olmstead manor, but when we went inside we found that it had been ransacked. Would’ve taken us days to sift through all the mess. Rather than attempt that, we went down to the town to see what we could find there.

I didn’t have a goal in mind, but 330 seemed to. She led the way through the streets to a church in the town square. Like the rest of the town, it was a new construction, but designed to look like the original 19^th century building it was based on. The door was locked, but 330 just did her old “teleport inside and open the door” trick. That little jump seemed to strain her more than usual; she had to stop and catch her breath after opening the door. Still not completely recovered….

Superficially, the inside of the building looked like a regular church. Except when I opened the bibles and hymn books, the pages were completely blank. Which was weird but not helpful. What was helpful was when I heard some pews shifting, and saw a trapdoor opening on the floor underneath them. A man stepped out, but when he saw 330 and me, he ran back down. We chased after him, down the trapdoor and into a tunnel.

Could barely see down there. There was a light further up ahead, silhouetting the running man, but other than that it was dark. The ground was damp, and every step I took felt like I was sinking through an inch of mud. Didn’t help with running at all.

We were quickly gaining on the man, and would have caught him easily. Had we been the only ones in that tunnel, at least. More silhouetted figures jumped out of the shadows between us and the man we were chasing. They didn’t look entirely human, with oddly shaped heads and hands. When we got close enough to see details, I realized that those hands were webbed, and the heads had fins and bulbous eyes.

Alright, so… fish people. Sure why not. Their attempt to jump us backfired pretty badly when 330 and I started throwing punches. Even with only one arm, she can kick ass. And I managed to hold myself up pretty well.

There only were three of them, so it only took a few minutes before they were running away from us as well. Chase resumed, until we reached the end of the tunnel.

Small room, with a few flickering lights hanging from the ceiling and bunk beds built into the walls. The man we’d chased at first was trying to hide in the back, but when the fish men reached the room they tried hiding behind him, and then he tried hiding behind them, and so on until they gave up.

“Please don’t hurt us!” The man said. “We’ll do anything, just, just don’t hurt us!”

“Calm down.” I said. “We’re just looking for info. Who the hell are you people?”

He gladly went into a full explanation. It seems that, in the past, the citizens of Innsmouth crossbred with… whatever freaky monster things they had living in the bay. Those fish monsters who’d tried to jump us? His cousins. They’d all hidden down under the church during the FBI raid, and had been staying there ever since.

“And the Order of Dagon? Are they still hiding here too?”

“No, they fled when the town was raided.”

“Where?”

Hesitation. “He’ll kill me if I tell anyone….”

“Who will kill you?”

He didn’t answer. 330 grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him against the wall. “You really should tell us where they went.” She said.

He started panicking, trying to struggle out of her grip. “Your eye!” he half shouted.

“Well?”

“Louisiana! There’s a ritual site in the swamps there! That’s where they went!”

She dropped him and started to walk out of the room. I saw a brief flash of red in her eye, but when she blinked it was back to its blue.

“How’d you do that?” I said.

“Guess I’m just naturally intimidating.” Was her answer.

Wanted to ask them more. After all, “the swamps of Louisiana” doesn’t sound like a very specific location to me. But 330 seemed intent on leaving; Had to run to catch up with her.

Onwards to Louisiana, then.

-Lisa

Well 330’s definitely been in a better mood lately. It’s great seeing her as her cheerful self again. Now all I need is for her to fall madly in love with me, and everything will be wonderful again.

I’ve realized that, informative as the internet and all these records are, I won’t be able to find all the answers I need just sitting around at home. It’s time to do some hands on investigating. Which is why 330 and I are going to be heading back to Innsmouth. Perhaps the Esoteric Order of Dagon left some clues lying around the place for us to find. Or maybe we’ll just wind up searching through a lot of abandoned buildings.

I’m really hoping for the former.

-Lisa

June 25, 2012 - Fairfax, Virginia

537

Went to Lisa’s homemade shooting range today. Let me tell you, it took a lot of arguing to convince her to bring me along. She’s still treating me like I’m fragile or something.

As expected, I was absolutely terrible. It’s kinda hard to aim with only one working eye. And these guns all seem to have been designed with two hands in mind.

Lisa’s become pretty good, though she’ll never admit it. I guess it’s nice that one of us was managing to hit the targets.

After several more of my shots veered wildly off target, I’d had enough. Threw the gun onto the ground and spent some quality time shouting whatever offensive sounding phrases came to mind. God dammit god dammit god dammit. Why’d I have to end up like this? I’m USELESS! Can’t even fire a gun straight! Can’t do anything but lie on a couch and drink! Fuck….

At least Lisa’s… I’m… she’s… WHATEVER, trying to be understanding. She tried to console me, telling I’d get better, I just needed to get used to this, I’d be back to hitting bull’s-eyes every shot soon. After all, the future I-330 she knew could shoot fine with only one eye, right?

Oh hell no. Comparing me to that crazy sociopath? Still, she had a point. If Future Bitch can do it, there’s no way in hell I can’t as well.

Question was then, how did she do it? What’s she got I don’t? Well, a demonic arm of doom, for one. And she was a helluva lot better at time stuff than me when we last fought….

Time… you know, it’s not completely accurate for me to claim that I can see time. “See” implies vision, and it’s not that, it’s… argh, damn human language and its lack of fourth dimensional vocabulary!

Point  is, I don’t use my eyes to “see” time. Which means that it hasn’t been affected by my recent injuries.

Looking down the shooting range, I could see the timelines spreading outward…. Coming out from everything, branching out, shifting from every moment.

Pointed my pistol toward the target, and I could see the lines branching out from the gun. Hundreds of lines, containing infinite possibilities. One of those branches had to be the timeline where my bullet hit the target. Just had to focus until I could single it out….

Pulled the trigger, gun fired. Missed the bull’s-eye, but hit the target. Hell yeah.

After that, I was hitting the targets nearly every time. For the first time since I got out of that hospital, I felt like I actually could competently do something.

I was happy, Lisa was happy for me, we bought a cake in celebration because fuck yeah cake. I didn’t eat much of the cake because I was too busy talking about all the possibilities this opens up for me: mentally following the timelines to predict attacks, do crazy parkour things, etc. etc. Why the hell didn’t I think of this before? Much as I hate to admit it, maybe Grendel and Future Me were right: I have been thinking too much like a human. I suppose it just took a good existential crisis to make me wake up and realize, hey, I’ve got a sixth sense. I should probably take advantage of this more often.

Although right now it’s use is probably going to be limited to fighting very polite people who are willing to stand still and not attack me for several minutes as I try to figure out which timeline is the right one to shoot them from. Never said it was a perfect system, but with some improvement…. I’m liking the possibilities.

I-330

Recovery

I will confess. This reunion with 330 has not been the romantic wonderland I fantasized about. Not that I was really expecting one, but a girl can dream, right?

She’s having a hard time adapting to her condition. Losing an eye’s destroyed her depth perception, so she’s always having to walk carefully lest she misjudge some distance and trip. Not to mention the frequent moments when she forgets she’s missing half an arm (moments usually accompanied by the crash of something hitting the floor after she tried passing it over to a hand that’s no longer there.) She’s trying to hide her frustration, but she’s not one for emotional subtlety. Whenever any of her injuries gets in her way, I swear she looks as though she’s about to smash everything. Least she keeps a lid on it all, but I hate seeing her like this….

On an unrelated topic, I think I may have finally found a breakthrough in my research on the church. It took a while to trace ownership of the land back through all the proxies and front names, but I’ve finally found the man behind it: Jacob Olmstead. Head of the Innsmouth Reconstruction Foundation, aka the Esoteric Order of Dagon. Knew he would have some kind of connection, especially since we found a statue in his office exactly like the one from the church.

Not sure what to do with this breakthrough yet. Olmstead disappeared after the botched FBI raid on Innsmouth, so finding him won’t be easy. But at least now I’ve got something.

-Lisa