The Hunt

A few days ago I was sent to hunt down something. They didn't tell me what it was or why I was hunting it, only that it's very important I find it, and that it would probably be hanging out its last known location. I have suspicions that it has to do with The Long Game. That it's part of the Next Phase which they've finally located. Nonetheless I set out, following the lead that it was somewhere in Italy. This piqued my curiosity as that is generally outside my jurisdiction, meaning that it was very important that I specifically hunt it. Also, Italy is swarming with Timberwolves.

I started out early and got several buses, taxis and trains for the rest of the day. Finally arriving Rome, late at night. Too tired to continue further I got a hotel and rested until morning. I wasn't fortunate in my selection of hotel. Rising the next day I realised too late that this particular Hotel had been chosen as a hub of sorts for several Timberwolves in town for a meeting. I'd wondered if it was a Timberwolf I was supposed to kill, but I'd have to hunt down every last one in Rome to ensure I got the target. Hardly a feat I'm capable of accomplishing.  

I cursed Master Nowhere for his vagueness, and managed to sneak past the Timberwolves in the lobby. Well, not so much sneak as walk casually, convinced there were no Apostles and hence none of them would be able to tell who I was and that I was a Sine Corda. Out on the streets I determined to head to the more specific last known location of the thing. Address in hand I grabbed a taxi, learning that the last known sighting was quite a bit outside of Rome. But the Nevermore Accord are anything but low on cash, and I had all the money needed to convince the driver to take me there.

After a while of driving, the car stopped just outside a dump. Needless to say, my curiosity was only further piqued. Leaving the taxi, I headed into the landfill. The smell is just as bad as you'd imagine, and the rats! I couldn't count how many rats I saw in that place. I was more interested in finding the target. Was it still here?

Yes, yes it was. I spotted a man, shambling its way through the garbage, clad in tattered brown wrappings. He was very tall and well built. How apt that last phrase was. He looked towards me, peering through the wrappings covering its face with a glowing eye for a moment before sprinting away from me at a speed no human could be capable of. I set after him, gun in hand. I fired, it struck him at the base of the neck. A loud ping resounded and the man continued unaffected by the bullet. I couldn't catch up with it, I couldn't kill it, not from here. Maybe I could outsmart it.

Racing out of pursuit of the monster, I ran around junk pile after junk pile and managed to cut it off, colliding with it as I leapt out from behind another pile. Caught by surprise it took the Thing a while to get me off of it, but not before I managed to shoot it in the face and knock the wrappings from its head. It struck me and I fell off of it. It was on its feet in an instant, glaring at me with one bloodied socket which I'd shot, and one eye, surrounded and augmented by a mechanical shell, stray strands of hair barely covering its head, its jaw mostly in bloody strips covering a metal replacement. It raced towards me, lashing out with a robotic arm and sent me flying into a pile of rubbish, my whole head aching from where it hit. Seeming more interested in escape, it wasted no time and ran off at that inhuman speed. By the time I recovered the thing was too far away to pursue. 

It wasn't a failure, though. I had managed to get some James Bond-esque GPS device on him to track his movements. Which I'm now doing from my hotel room in a Timberwolf infested hotel in a Timberwolf infested city, in a Timberwolf infested country...

...hunting a Towerborn.

-Shady  

Disruptions

I have nothing against Runners, I was one not long ago as anyone who reads this blog would know. My occupation as a Runner didn't last long, not as long as many others, although of course anyone who was a Runner for a shorter time is probably dead, and any who's one for a longer time probably will be.

Then of course there are the ones that are just plain annoying. The Long Game is going, and anything that disrupts it must be dealt with by the full force of The Nevermore Accord. Occasionally Runners fall into this category, and as an agent of the Sine Corda and by extension The Nevermore Accord, it falls under my job description to deal with them. Of course this isn't my true purpose, they didn't "recruit" me because I was a master assassin, but until the next phase can be located -whatever that means- this is what I do.

I hunt.

It's what I've been doing for most of the time between my de-heartening and now. My first mission should have been fairly simple. A Runner had killed one of the other Sine Corda, however and for whatever reason I don't bother myself with. I was dispatched to deal with him, but it didn't exactly go to plan.

I set out from the warehouse, one of many under Nevermore control, with a gun and a box of bullets. I wasn't invisible anymore, when I lost my heart I was spat back out by THE HUNGERING (the capitals didn't go away) and now exist as much as you do (unless of course you're being unraveled), the privilege of invisibility kept for higher members such as Master Nowhere and the Menacing Men. So I had to be discreet, keeping the gun concealed and catching the Runner somewhere private.

I found the Runner in a bar at the edge of this French town late at night. I entered, my senses immediately assaulted by the scent of alcohol and the smoke-filled air, not exactly being old enough to be used to this I found it slightly disorientated, though the nerves of walking around in full sight with a gun in my pocket and the intention to kill likely added to it. My teenaged physique earned me a few questioning glances, though my "Null Hoodie" kept my face mostly hidden and, I don't know, Sine Corda have an air about them, I suppose you could call it a Menacing. I guess that means I'm not quite as existent as I used to be. The Runner, thin, tall and suited (no, not Slenderman) was seated at the bar, so I found a dark corner where I could make use of my new found Menacing to glare angrily at the Runner while I waited for an opportunity.

This only came hours later when he finally left the bar, dispensing some coins on the counter and exited, me following at a distance. He left and rather stupidly decided to turn into a dark alleyway next to the bar, I thought he mustn't have been very used the being a Runner if he's walking through dark alleys late at night. I followed behind, the gun having a silencer so noise wouldn't be a problem, until we moved out of sight of the street. He turned around and looked at me.

I thought little of it as I drew the gun and shot him in the chest, knocking him down. Then he got back up, straight up as if he was being pulled. Pulled by invisible strings.

"Crap!" I exclaimed as I shot again, in the arm, his arm jolting back in response before sliding back into position. He rose the arm in a mechanical motion and observed it for a moment, before walking forward again, his legs being raised and dropped by the strings like some horrid puppet controlled by an even more horrid Puppeteer, his previous facade of normality dropped.

Several more shots resulting in nothing, the strings pulling the body forward beyond the boundaries of death, animating the corpse in its deadly movements. It swung an arm around, surprisingly swift and precise for a puppet, I ducked under, but its arm struck out at me again, swiping me across the head, knocking me to the ground. It reached into its jacket and pulled out a long knife. I raised my gun towards him to shoot the hand with the knife, but as quickly as I fired he skillfully juggled the knife to its other hand, then lifted a mechanical leg to strike the gun away with a finely polished shoe, the gun sliding over the wet concrete.

It raised the knife, clearly preparing to drive it down, when the strings spontaneously snapped and the corpse collapsed in a heap on top of me. I pushed it from me and although confused, counted my blessings and took this as a kill. Since then I've killed two actual Runners and am currently after something else. I still don't know what happened.

-Shady

The Beginning of the End

I did not think I would be updating this again, it seems so futile now. But I realised that some may be interested in knowing what is happening, and a part of me wants to tell you. I shall relate to you the first part for now.

The men of The Nevermore Accord dragged me away from the room the day after I (not Sleeper) last updated. I was pulled to another room of the warehouse where I was drugged and strapped to an operating table. Terrified, confused and unable to think properly my vision was hazy and my memory more so. A pair of men wearing green scrubs and surgeons' masks entered the room, their eyes sunken and dead. They were followed by a "thing" pushing a small tray-table. It was human, maybe, two arms and two legs, but its face along with any other exposed skin was covered with every disease under the sun, oozing pustules and dark red rashes, eyelids only half open at any given time, pushed shut by growths covering its face. It walked hunched over, down to just over a metre off the ground, it wore white scrubs and a surgeon's mask. It shambled off after pushing it in. A Riddled, as Master Nowhere would later refer to it.

The men on the other hand, were Oathbreakers.

Master Nowhere whispered to the two men, and the two walked to either side of the operating table, one taking a syringe from the tray and injecting me with a viscous blue fluid. I lost consciousness after this, mostly.

I couldn't see, feel, nor hear anything (nor taste or smell, but people tend to forget about those senses), or more specifically, I could see, feel and hear nothing. It was simply pitch black for all my sense, yet I could still think, and knew it was more than just nothingness. It was...Nothingness, with a capital N. This lasted for an imperceptible amount of time, until one of my senses was stimulated, returning me to the stream of time, I could feel. I could feel Nothingness. It struck me in the chest, puncturing through my flesh and into my heart, from which its dark, smoky tendrils spread outwards, wisps of non-existence consuming me and my entire body. I could feel in more ways than one, I could feel different emotions drained away. I was being touched by THE HUNGERING, It was releasing me from my bonds, showing me the truth of all things, everything was open to me, I could see the universe, the numerous galaxies looking as but stars in my vision, distant, I saw everything from outside everything. Nothingness exists outside all things, lurking between universes and raging within black holes. Drawing all things to it, ever hungry, ever ending, yet never ending.

I awoke back in my room an unknown time after losing consciousness, my body still intact, a long, sloppily stitched wound over my chest. Master Nowhere standing over me.

"Welcome to the Sine Corda."        

Answers and Questions

By now you've probably come to the fairly obvious conclusion that I am currently a host to a fragment of THE DECAY. You're probably thinking: "How could you be a host to THE DECAY, you're not even decaying!" Well, I asked this very same question.

"It's weak," replied Analyst Beta through the intercom as I sat in the quarantine area, the white walls making it look more like an Insane Asylum, "The weakest fragment I've ever seen, or heard of. It doesn't seems capable of exerting much control over you or effecting your body to any significant degree."

"So, is the fragment why I was blacking out? When I encountered THE FROST and Master Nowhere, and maybe Slenderman, though I'd probably put that up to just being Slenderman."

"No, not as far as we can tell. When a fragment takes control it shows signs, altered brain waves, bodily decay, no signs of it ever having taken control are present."

"So there's still something else weird about me. Great." I muttered, the relief of knowing what's wrong with me rapidly fading, "Any ideas how this makes me important to Master Nowhere and the "non-existent" Nevermore Accord, because trust me, being non-existent doesn't make you not real." I laughed slightly.

"No idea. Some larger fragments seek to absorb other weaker ones into them, but this one is hardly worth all the effort Master Nowhere and the other PRE's are putting into finding you," he replied, "Meanwhile, the Nevermore Accord remains unknown to all of our operatives and databases."

"Have you tried asking...Him," I asked innocently, "You know, the man upstairs. Or downstairs, if you're talking geographically."

"The Grandfather? No. He usually doesn't give US information on other Fears and their operations, though I have filed a report to Archive Central. He's reads those for information, if He does have information he wishes to disclose, then He'll do so."

"And if He has information He doesn't wish to disclose? Sorry for being mistrusting, but He's still evil," I said, hoping there wouldn't be any repercussions for saying it in the presence of an Archivist.

"If He doesn't wish to disclose information, He won't," he said, I could see him packing up his things through the observation window, "And whether you believe He's evil or not, He's our Grandfather."

With that he left, leaving me alone in the quarantine chamber. I played some space invaders and read some Fear Blogs to pass the time before going to sleep. They put me in here when they discovered THE DECAY was inside me, they're keeping me for observation until later today when they're sure the fragment is too weak to gain control.

Scribe Theta came in a while ago, with an expression of confusion and worry.

"What's wrong?" I asked, pressing the button for communication.

"The files, on Master Nowhere, they're gone," he said, "Archive Central reported a complete absence of his mention in their entire database. The same happened to the report on the Nevermore Accord, Archive Central denies ever receiving them. Something's wrong, because they reported receipt of them yesterday!"

"What does this mean?"

"I don't know, but someone, or something has completely removed the files from the entire Archive network! No one can do that, we have the best computer security system on the planet!"

"Clearly someone can do it," I replied, "And if anyone could do that, they'd have to be in the Archive."

"Exactly," he replied, "We have a spy. The Keepers are going nuts!" He paced back and forth for a moment, "That's not all," he finally said, before pressing a button in the observation room and calling for someone by the name of Infiltrator Gamma. Infiltrators are a special brand of Collectors who infiltrate other Fear groups for information. A couple seconds later the door to quarantine opened and a man with light brown hair and beard enters, IΓ sown onto his shirt. He was flanked by two keepers.

He held two tape recorders and set them both on my table. "This is the call made to the Timberwolves, the source of their information about your train." came Theta's voice, "And the other is OUR contact about it."

Gamma pressed both buttons simultaneously and the same voice came over both. Master Nowhere.

"Are you sure it's him?" asked Theta. "Of course, his voice was in my head," I snapped, "I'd know it any where. Wh- why would he be contacting both organisations about me?"

"We don't know," he replied, "We'll look into it."

They all left, with the two tape recorders, leaving me with my thoughts and a massive conspiracy.

-Shady

Actually GETTING Information

This E-Mail was received this morning at 7:00 am., the same moment I awoke.

Paul [Rescinded],
aka Shady,
As stated in your post we have indeed been watching your blog and have been keeping a close eye on you and your actions. This communication shall be short, we may have some information pertaining to your condition and we shall communicate this to you. This interaction between yourself and The Quiet has rarely been recorded and we have little information on this phenomenon, we would enjoy discovering more about it through study of the quantum interactions of your matter during "unraveling". We regret to inform you that we have no methods to stop the progress of The Quiet, but any information we may get from you shall go forward to uncovering a way to do so. Please enter [Rescinded] into your internet search engine of choice so we may communicate further.
-Scribe Theta,
The Archive

I did so.

SΘ: You're here?
Shady: Yeah.
SΘ: Good.
SΘ: Firstly, we shall answer what questions you have to the best of our ability.
Shady: Fine then. What can you tell me about the Nevermore Accord?
SΘ: Nevermore Accord -File not found.
SΘ: The Nevermore Accord does not exist.
Shady: That's a real comfort when I'm being unraveled by them.
Shady: What can you tell me about Master Nowhere?
SΘ: Master Nowhere -Agent of the Sine Corda. Sightings go as far back as the 16th century. Whether it is one person given long life through some unconfirmed means or a title passed down, along with the ritual destruction of their flesh, is unknown.
Shady: Hmm. What about the Sine Corda, anything you can tell me about them that I don't already know?
SΘ: Sine Corda .narrow search. -Archive investigation has been unable to confirm nor deny the claims of "heartlessness" held among members of the Sine Corda. Dissections of deceased Sine Corda have discovered the presence of a basic human heart, however [Classified] has stated that the hearts of Sine Corda agents are returned upon death. Living members of the Sine Corda have not been recovered for testing. [...]Due to the nature of the Sine Corda and their service to PRE19, their souls are claimed by The Quiet upon death, as such they cannot be used by PRE03: "Archangel" as hosts. Nor may they pass on to any possible afterlife that may await one upon death.
Shady: Okay then. Any theories on the "something very special" inside me?
SΘ: The vagueness of the statement renders it impossible to confirm any suspicions.
SΘ: If you would join us at the Archive Centre at [Rescinded], Paris, France, we shall examine you and uncover both what is inside you and the effects of PRE19 on a body. The Grandfather's blessing renders us immune to your alternate quantum state.
Shady: I'll think about it.
SΘ: We hope you will.
SΘ: Also, watch out for Timberwolves. They are not immune, although an Apostle would be. They do not take kindly to any presence of The Quiet as its presence destroys their connection to their master.

Not a lot there, but it helps. I'll probably start out towards Paris later today. I hope I don't run into any Timberwolves, they're a gang of nasty Archangel cultists who, as stated above, won't take kindly to me passing through their territory.

-Shady

Getting Information

Needless to say, I'm curious as to what's going on. I know what the Sine Corda are, I said that in my last post. However, the Nevermore Accord and the "something very special" inside me, I have no idea about. So I'll start this off asking if anyone has ideas. Theories. Any information that may be pertinent to my current situation.

Leaving people to think about that, I'm going to do some research of my own. The best place to get knowledge is the Archive. Followers of the Blind Man. Despite being servants of a Fear, they appear mostly benevolent and only interested in the acquisition of more knowledge for their master. To be honest, I'm skeptical, THE UNSEER has been compared to THE HUNGERING on occasion, both being Fears of Losing Things -memories and objects respectively. There has been a speculated connection between the two.

Hopefully it's not true. Or at least, hopefully I'll be able to interact with an Archivist who will help. The main problem (for now at least) is that to get information, I'm going to need information. There are Archivists everywhere, there's probably one reading this blog, anywhere they can get information on the other Fears they're going to be lurking. But I need to find one, or in the very least talk to one through some means. I'm hoping that as Fear servants they'll have a certain immunity to my 'non-existing-ness'. If they don't then we'll have to communicate through this blog.

So, to summarise:

• Anyone who has information on the anything of interest, please tell me.
• Anyone who has information on the location of an Archivist, please tell me.
• Anyone who IS an Archivist, I refer you to point one.

Thank you.

-Shady

Heartless

I was sick and tired of it. The Stitched Man as far as I could tell wasn't a Fear, unless there's others out there that people don't know about, making him likely a proxy of some kind. Proxies can die. Mr. Proxiehunter can vouch for that. Shoot it in the face and it should die. That was the plan anyway.

The way I saw it: He only appears when he wants to, he can appear anywhere he wants, if he wanted to kill me he would/could have done it by now, showing up with a gun will either kill him or not. If so, hooray. If not, nothing changes, if he can't die I'm no threat to him and things carry on as normal. I couldn't make things any worse.

I went out walking with a gun. No one can see me so being inconspicuous wasn't a problem. I was expecting the Stitched Man to show up and low and behold he did. I found him at the edge of the city, hood down, still invisible, just staring at me as usual. I aimed the gun at his head, which he tilted curiously at the sight of it.

Bang.

I honestly didn't know I was that good of a shot, but the bullet came out, and blood burst out the back of his head. The gun wasn't unraveled, the bullet wasn't unraveled, everything was there and everything went according to plan. He collapsed onto his back. Dead as far as I could tell. I think he was dead, he just didn't stay dead. Or as I guess you could say, I never even shot him.

He rose to his feet without any support, the bullet shot out of his face, the blood spraying back inside his skull and flesh reforming over the hole. The bullet re-entered my gun and everything was as it was before I had shot him. It was undone.

I was useless, everything I did would become moot. All actions become obsolete. I had no reason for anything. Stitchy started walking towards me, I dropped to my knees, nothing I could do to stop him. He kicked me onto my back, placing a black boot on my chest and glared down at me with his lack of intact eyes. He leaned down close, a knife in his hand, brandishing it like some stereotypical serial killer.

"Have you realised the futility of your actions?" his voice inside my own head.

"Who are you?" I asked, figuring if he thought my actions were futile he could be reveal information and I could do nothing about it. Clearly his reasoning too.

"I am Master Nowhere of the Sine Corda," he said within my mind. 

The Sine Corda. Agents of THE HUNGERING. Supposedly there is a hole where their hearts should be, created by THE HUNGERING. Hence the name, Latin for "Without hearts." It's been speculated that the Sine Corda don't actually do THE HUNGERING's bidding as It cares nothing for anything, thus it's only their delusions that they do as THE HUNGERING wills. I don't know. It unraveled my attempt to kill him. 

"Well then..." I gasped, his foot still pressing down on my chest, "Why me?"

"You have a very special quality," he said, "There's something very special inside of you. It gives you something that we of the Nevermore Accord are very interested in."

"Are you going to tell me what?" I wheezed.

He shook his head, "Not yet. Not now. Just wait."

"Oh..." I said, "Okay."

I turned the gun towards him and shot his face again, sending him flying off me. I clambered to my feet, racing off as quickly as I could. Glancing over my shoulder I saw his death in reverse, the bullet falling out of his face as the flesh regenerated. He glared after me, before dispersing into void.

I'm going to live. If not for me than I'm going to find out everything about THE HUNGERING and the plans of the Sine Corda and the Nevermore Accord and I'm going to tell everyone that'll listen and maybe together I can stop the whole thing. S said this blog will survive. Then I will too. Screw their plans! I'm going to shoot his face off and I'm going to make it stick!

-Shady