I've been quite busy lately. Tracking the Towerborn while avoiding the Timberwolves. Unsuccessfully, by the way. The Towerborn decided not to leave Rome at all, but rather head further into the city, hardly a sound tactic when that's where I am. Or maybe it's hunting me. I think I'd win, I've got the gun and the hoodie.
But it traveled further in anyway, and I decided to ambush it at a street corner. Heading out of the hotel and avoiding contact with any Timberwolves, identifiable to me thanks to my super powers, or whatever. I traversed the streets of Rome, my phone tracking the Thing's movements. I made my way to intercept the little blinking point on my screen, but it began moving the other way away from me.
I walked faster and faster to catch up with it, but it was faster than me and less hindered by the desire to not call attention to itself by running like a mad man after something no one else even knew was there. Giving up trying to look inconspicuous I began jogging, weaving in and out of busy people. Then I was running, the Towerborn still leaving me behind, until finally I sprinted, faster and faster towards the point on my phone.
It was slowing down and I was finally catching up, closing in on it. But looking at my phone I made an odd realisation, the Towerborn was entering Vatican City. Why? What business could it have in the centre of Catholicism? So I pursued it into the small city, finding a less tourist ridden access point through the surrounding wall, discreetly dealing with a security guard.
Now within the city I continued towards Blinky (the Towerborn's new name after its representation on my phone). Inside the structure, through hallways probably no tourists would see, ducking around corners and into rooms to avoid being spotted, even knocking out a priest or two. They always bored me anyway. Even after all the supernatural I've seen I probably believe in God even less. Maybe it's because I now believe in the almighty power, purity and perfection of absolute and all-devouring Nothingness. Or something else, I don't know.
I found my way down several hallways through the labyrinthine complex that is the Vatican, I never knew it was so complicated when I want there a couple years back. I didn't know how a shambling, tatter cloaked, monstrous mess of metal and flesh managed to make its way through unnoticed.
Then I found out. As I neared the blinking light I realised Blinky was now on the other side of a wall. Unfortunately, the way behind the wall wasn't at that point, meaning it could have gotten through at any point up ahead. Regardless, I continued, hoping to find some sign along the lines of "Pull lever to open secret passage". Something told me I was aiming a little high.
But that was exactly what I found. Well, maybe not exactly. I slid into a small office of sorts, an ornate desk with a chair and topped with papers at the far side and lined with books and more importantly, bookcases. Bookcases that could hide a secret passage. Already got underground bases and tracking devices, why not secret passages?
The question was: Which book? The entire place was covered in books to choose from and if I didn't want anyone to know I was there I couldn't just start yanking out every book on the shelves unless I wanted to spend ages sorting them all back in their proper places, and just wait for someone to walk in/out to find me sitting on the floor trying to figure out where to put books that start with numbers in alphabetical order.
But the answer presented itself soon after. As I was perusing the books for clues, I found one. An extremely obvious one in that matter, they might want to be more secretive if they want to keep out meddlesome Hunters like I. On the bottom of one of the books were the good old Twin-Triangles. Seems Blinky had some business with the Timberwolves. I pulled out the book and failing that poked the triangles and pushed in the book, resulting in a satisfying click that signaled my victory over their devilsome puzzle.
The case slid away to reveal a medieval looking passageway behind. Now it was turning into some Da Vinci Code or Angels and Demons type goings on. Conspiracy theorists would have a field day. Heading down the flaming sconce lined steps (yes, there were really sconces) into the deep, dark Timberwolf territory. All my travelling finally culminating in some equally conspiratorial chamber, lined with sconces and a dozen Timberwolves, Blinky and three more Timberwolves in the centre.
I figured why let an opportunity such as this go to waste and hung out out of sight, listening in.
"He is here?" asked the lead Timberwolf, an elderly man in a dark grey hoodie and dark blue jeans that didn't seem to suit him, flanked by my Apostle friend from the train and another, likely also an Apostle. The first Apostle appeared the same as from our encounter, wearing the gas mask, except for a bandaged hand which he may have gotten from Collector Epsilon. The other wore a long, hooded, black coat and black trousers, except in stead of wearing his hood he wore an old, brown fedora. He was thin and deathly pale, probably didn't grow up in Italy.
The Towerborn spoke in a metallic, screeching voice that made my ears hurt, and from the fidgeting I could tell it had the same effect on the Timberwolves except the three questioning Blinky. "Yes," it screeched from behind its cloth mask, "Shade is here."
Aw, they have a nick-name for me. Sure it's a basic derivation from my blogger name, but still.
"Excellent. If we can kill him here, The Long Game can be stopped." Wow. People really don't like my blog. "THE HUNGERING shall never find purchase here. I have spent too long preparing this place for it all to go to waste!" spoke the leader in an oddly familiar voice, but it was different, and so didn't suit his body either.
"But I feel that won't be a problem," he spoke again, raising a hand and snapping his fingers. Streams of blueish-white, sparkling light latched onto me from all sides, pushing me from my hiding place. "Here, we have Shade!" he announced, to the gasps of everyone else in the room. He pushed his hood back a bit, and I could see his face properly. It was Beta/Theta. Yes, the person(s) I killed. Yes, he was THE FALLEN.
I ran back up the steps as fast as I could, a swarm of angry Timberwolves charging after me (yes, twelve Timberwolves does constitute a swarm). Then oh god -I mean Nothingness-! Talk about timing! My bullet wound is acting up again! Yes, I got shot. Yes, I have to continue this later.
-Shady
Showing posts with label Epsilon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Epsilon. Show all posts
Wednesday, 28 November 2012
Friday, 2 November 2012
Archive-ception!
We arrived at the Archive Centre yesterday evening. The building was under the guise of, guess what, an archive. Really original. The front of the building is full of old books and documents about this part of Paris, where ever this part of Paris is, I wasn't really paying attention. I know the street, from my messages with Scribe Theta (they won't let me tell anyone), but I couldn't give directions if I wanted to. I can see the good ol' Eiffel Tower from here, but that can be seen from anywhere in Paris if movies are to be believed.
Epsilon and Upsilon guided me through the stacks of books and documents to the back section where the The Archive was. I was introduced to Scribe Theta, an aged man with grey hair and a bushy beard, and the head the Paris Archive, Analyst Beta, an aged man with grey hair and a bushy beard. They were twins, and made no attempt to make it possible to discern between them apart from the monogram on their uniforms, over the left breast.
'SΘ' for Scribe Theta. 'Aβ' for Analyst Beta.
I was taken down an elevator to some James Bond-esque underground lair. Fortunately they don't take all of their master's habits, like hanging out in Catacombs. The place looks much like the above ground part of the Archive, despite being a basement it's well lit and well dusted. No spiders in here -bone spiders on the other hand, hopefully not. I was introduced to a small room with another rough cot that seems a lot like the warehouse 'bedroom'.
They certainly don't waste time because after only a few minutes Scribe Theta returned and took me to the infirmary for the medical tests. A blood sample was taken, I got an MRI, another thing that was kind of like an MRI but wasn't in a thick black scanner with lots of science-fiction blinking lights, put into a chamber and bombarded with some kind of radiation, injected with various liquids and fluids, and numerous other tests, I'm surprised I'm not dead from the chemicals and drugs. They're certainly thorough I can say that, but the whole ordeal left me exhausted.
I awoke this morning for a few more tests. They had to test my reaction to some of the previous tests, such as the injections, and if I was still medically sound from radiation exposure, chemical poisoning, blah blah blah. Now I'm left to wait for the final results in the waiting room, they got me a nice new laptop to update this blog. Apart from all the poking and prodding and the service to a monstrous evil, they're nice people.
Analyst Beta told me about how he and his brother are Gifted, they got the memories of another's childhood after theirs were stolen by THE UNSEER. The funny thing is, they got each others' memories, so there wasn't much of a problem integrating the new memories because they were already a part of them and have identical appearances.
It'll be a while yet, I'll probably head for the cafeteria for lunch. See you later.
-Shady
Epsilon and Upsilon guided me through the stacks of books and documents to the back section where the The Archive was. I was introduced to Scribe Theta, an aged man with grey hair and a bushy beard, and the head the Paris Archive, Analyst Beta, an aged man with grey hair and a bushy beard. They were twins, and made no attempt to make it possible to discern between them apart from the monogram on their uniforms, over the left breast.
'SΘ' for Scribe Theta. 'Aβ' for Analyst Beta.
I was taken down an elevator to some James Bond-esque underground lair. Fortunately they don't take all of their master's habits, like hanging out in Catacombs. The place looks much like the above ground part of the Archive, despite being a basement it's well lit and well dusted. No spiders in here -bone spiders on the other hand, hopefully not. I was introduced to a small room with another rough cot that seems a lot like the warehouse 'bedroom'.
They certainly don't waste time because after only a few minutes Scribe Theta returned and took me to the infirmary for the medical tests. A blood sample was taken, I got an MRI, another thing that was kind of like an MRI but wasn't in a thick black scanner with lots of science-fiction blinking lights, put into a chamber and bombarded with some kind of radiation, injected with various liquids and fluids, and numerous other tests, I'm surprised I'm not dead from the chemicals and drugs. They're certainly thorough I can say that, but the whole ordeal left me exhausted.
I awoke this morning for a few more tests. They had to test my reaction to some of the previous tests, such as the injections, and if I was still medically sound from radiation exposure, chemical poisoning, blah blah blah. Now I'm left to wait for the final results in the waiting room, they got me a nice new laptop to update this blog. Apart from all the poking and prodding and the service to a monstrous evil, they're nice people.
Analyst Beta told me about how he and his brother are Gifted, they got the memories of another's childhood after theirs were stolen by THE UNSEER. The funny thing is, they got each others' memories, so there wasn't much of a problem integrating the new memories because they were already a part of them and have identical appearances.
It'll be a while yet, I'll probably head for the cafeteria for lunch. See you later.
-Shady
Thursday, 1 November 2012
Happy Late Halloween!
Sorry I didn't wish everyone a happy Halloween yesterday, thus, I have done it now.
Epsilon, Upsilon and I are in the car and on our way to Paris. Upsilon is very disgruntled, no reason I can see, just an angry man in general. He doesn't talk much, and most of what he says is grumbled under his breath angrily. I don't think he like me very much, I think he blames me for the Timberwolf trouble, which may or may not be my fault, but it's not like I asked for this. He also mistrusts me, due his primary suspicion that I have a Dying Man piece inside me, aka. the "something very special". This has crossed my mind too, but I'm not jumping to conclusions, especially as a fragment of THE DECAY tends to show signs of its presence by decaying the host body. I'm fine as far as I'm aware; apart from the arm wounds, bullet hole and minor burns. And the non-existence thing.
Epsilon on the other hand is very friendly and talkative, ignoring Upsilon's angry mumblings and is the source of most of the communication between I and the facts of the Archive. She told me about multiple other Fears, the few that I haven't encountered, from the Black Dog, to the Unnamed Child; and UXPs (Unexplained Phenomena -which I find an odd name seeing as the Fears are no more explained as a phenomena) such as Jack of All, and the Bleeding Tree.
Data can be found here at The Archive.
Not much else to report for the moment, shouldn't be too long more to Paris, we'll be stopping in another small town as a pit stop shortly. I'll keep you posted.
-Shady
Epsilon, Upsilon and I are in the car and on our way to Paris. Upsilon is very disgruntled, no reason I can see, just an angry man in general. He doesn't talk much, and most of what he says is grumbled under his breath angrily. I don't think he like me very much, I think he blames me for the Timberwolf trouble, which may or may not be my fault, but it's not like I asked for this. He also mistrusts me, due his primary suspicion that I have a Dying Man piece inside me, aka. the "something very special". This has crossed my mind too, but I'm not jumping to conclusions, especially as a fragment of THE DECAY tends to show signs of its presence by decaying the host body. I'm fine as far as I'm aware; apart from the arm wounds, bullet hole and minor burns. And the non-existence thing.
Epsilon on the other hand is very friendly and talkative, ignoring Upsilon's angry mumblings and is the source of most of the communication between I and the facts of the Archive. She told me about multiple other Fears, the few that I haven't encountered, from the Black Dog, to the Unnamed Child; and UXPs (Unexplained Phenomena -which I find an odd name seeing as the Fears are no more explained as a phenomena) such as Jack of All, and the Bleeding Tree.
Data can be found here at The Archive.
Not much else to report for the moment, shouldn't be too long more to Paris, we'll be stopping in another small town as a pit stop shortly. I'll keep you posted.
-Shady
Wednesday, 31 October 2012
The Collectors
Train exploded. Yeah. It exploded.
The Apostle and Timberwolf boarded the same train to Paris as I was going on. It was the only train departing from that station for hours so it was to be expected. It started as uneventfully as the first one, but became much more 'eventful' mainly by the explosion of the train. The Timberwolf sitting next to the Apostle got up with his bag and left the carriage, a few moments later a large ball of fire was consuming the front of the train.
The entire thing keeled over, different carriages colliding with each other as the forward force of the train push them into one another. Fire flying everywhere. How I survived, I couldn't tell you, maybe it was my semi-existence, maybe I'm just lucky. But I managed to push my way from the rubble, fires licking at my feet. And of course the Apostle had survived as well. Except now he had his hood up and his gas mask on, his grey long-coat billowing enough to reveal a yellow Twin-Triangles emblazoned on his hoodie. An assault rifle cradled in his arms.
A piece of rubble near him moved, pushing its way off a bloodied body, who cried out for help. The Apostle turned the rifle towards them, releasing a short burst of bullets and cutting the screams short. He was making sure there was no survivors. He was probably looking for me. Scribe Theta said that the Sine Corda -and by extension myself- were hated by followers of THE FALLEN. He must have been sent to kill me, as only Apostles can see me. Make sure I was no longer a problem.
As other survivors sprinted for the safety of the treeline they too were shredded my hails of bullets. I couldn't run, but I couldn't stay here either, he was shooting corpses as he slowly walked the length of the train wreck, there would be no survivors. I crawled silently under the cover of the twisted metal, shattered glass cutting my underside. I made my way as far as I could and waited, waited for the sound of bullets that would follow as the Apostle turned his attention to someone else.
I scrambled to my feet and keeping as low and fast as I could headed for the forest, bullets whizzing around me the entire way, one connected with me and I slammed to the ground. Several more gunshots sounded, but they weren't the bursts of the assault rifle, no they were the shots of a smaller gun. Looking back from the now bloodied grass I saw the Apostle fleeing from view as a young, red-haired woman with a handgun sent bullets after him.
Satisfied that the Apostle was gone the woman ran towards me and picked me up from the ground.
"Come on." she had said as we ran from the train wreck through the forests, myself limping the whole way, the bullet hadn't struck my leg, but the wound in my back was enough to make any actions painful. Eventually coming to a road, she pulled out a radio and called for a car which arrived mere moments later, driven by a blonde man in his thirties. We piled ourselves inside and she introduced herself as Collector Epsilon of the Archive and he as Collector Upsilon, before I succumbed to unconsciousness.
I awoke later on a rough cot in a small warehouse in a small French town, where Upsilon was treating my wound. He explained it as a safe house for the Archive, as their line of work may quickly become dangerous with the increase in Timberwolf activity recently. I asked how he knew I would be there, and how the Apostle knew the same.
"Anonymous tips came in for the Archive about a sabotage of your train," chimed in Epsilon as she sat nearby, "I don't know about the Timberwolves."
Upsilon finished sowing up my back, and replaced the bandages on my arm, the wounds from THE RIPPER never did heal, but there isn't an infection. After that they left me here to get some rest. It still really hurts. Now I've got an Apostle and how many Timberwolves after me, at least now I've got a couple of Archivists helping.
-Shady
The Apostle and Timberwolf boarded the same train to Paris as I was going on. It was the only train departing from that station for hours so it was to be expected. It started as uneventfully as the first one, but became much more 'eventful' mainly by the explosion of the train. The Timberwolf sitting next to the Apostle got up with his bag and left the carriage, a few moments later a large ball of fire was consuming the front of the train.
The entire thing keeled over, different carriages colliding with each other as the forward force of the train push them into one another. Fire flying everywhere. How I survived, I couldn't tell you, maybe it was my semi-existence, maybe I'm just lucky. But I managed to push my way from the rubble, fires licking at my feet. And of course the Apostle had survived as well. Except now he had his hood up and his gas mask on, his grey long-coat billowing enough to reveal a yellow Twin-Triangles emblazoned on his hoodie. An assault rifle cradled in his arms.
A piece of rubble near him moved, pushing its way off a bloodied body, who cried out for help. The Apostle turned the rifle towards them, releasing a short burst of bullets and cutting the screams short. He was making sure there was no survivors. He was probably looking for me. Scribe Theta said that the Sine Corda -and by extension myself- were hated by followers of THE FALLEN. He must have been sent to kill me, as only Apostles can see me. Make sure I was no longer a problem.
As other survivors sprinted for the safety of the treeline they too were shredded my hails of bullets. I couldn't run, but I couldn't stay here either, he was shooting corpses as he slowly walked the length of the train wreck, there would be no survivors. I crawled silently under the cover of the twisted metal, shattered glass cutting my underside. I made my way as far as I could and waited, waited for the sound of bullets that would follow as the Apostle turned his attention to someone else.
I scrambled to my feet and keeping as low and fast as I could headed for the forest, bullets whizzing around me the entire way, one connected with me and I slammed to the ground. Several more gunshots sounded, but they weren't the bursts of the assault rifle, no they were the shots of a smaller gun. Looking back from the now bloodied grass I saw the Apostle fleeing from view as a young, red-haired woman with a handgun sent bullets after him.
Satisfied that the Apostle was gone the woman ran towards me and picked me up from the ground.
"Come on." she had said as we ran from the train wreck through the forests, myself limping the whole way, the bullet hadn't struck my leg, but the wound in my back was enough to make any actions painful. Eventually coming to a road, she pulled out a radio and called for a car which arrived mere moments later, driven by a blonde man in his thirties. We piled ourselves inside and she introduced herself as Collector Epsilon of the Archive and he as Collector Upsilon, before I succumbed to unconsciousness.
I awoke later on a rough cot in a small warehouse in a small French town, where Upsilon was treating my wound. He explained it as a safe house for the Archive, as their line of work may quickly become dangerous with the increase in Timberwolf activity recently. I asked how he knew I would be there, and how the Apostle knew the same.
"Anonymous tips came in for the Archive about a sabotage of your train," chimed in Epsilon as she sat nearby, "I don't know about the Timberwolves."
Upsilon finished sowing up my back, and replaced the bandages on my arm, the wounds from THE RIPPER never did heal, but there isn't an infection. After that they left me here to get some rest. It still really hurts. Now I've got an Apostle and how many Timberwolves after me, at least now I've got a couple of Archivists helping.
-Shady
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