Being Played

So I ran. It went horribly.

Just not before the note was confirmed. I lurked by the door, having lifted a gun from the armoury, holding a crowbar in hand and all my stuff in a bag, I waited in my room for who ever may or may not come. I felt Sleepy was awake too. The door clicked open as I waited behind it, a figure slid through, a knife in hand. A grey haired and heavily bearded head coming into view, it was Analyst Beta, with clearly murderous intentions. I cracked him over the head with the crowbar and he crumpled to the ground. It was confirmed, I'm screwed.

I stepped over the unconscious heap and out the door. The hallway was empty as I sprinted down, my escape completely unhindered. Until a rounded a particular corner and came face to face with Analyst Beta again, well, an identical face at least. Theta moved towards me, a gun in hand, ready to kill me if I didn't kill him first, which I did. Firing my gun at him I struck him square between the eyes, there must be something supernatural about my aim, maybe Sleepy helps.

~~I do not.~~

Well in any case Theta was now dead and I ran to the nearest exit, an emergency one that opens to a staircase up into an alley way down the street of the archive (the normal one), the Archive must stretch quite a bit under ground. My escape went better than I had expected, I wish I hadn't had to kill Theta but there wasn't anything I could do. I got the best I could have hoped for: Not having to find my way out through a veritable army of Archivists. But my luck ran out instantly.

I emerged into the alley to come face to face with Master Nowhere.

"Hello again," came his voice in my head.

"Hi," I responded, nothing I could do now, I'm screwed.

Several other figures emerged from the shadows of the alley, wearing hoodies similar to Master Nowhere, except their ones had an image on the chest, a circle with a line through it. They advanced towards me with almost comic menacing.

"You should probably come with us now, you are prepared," he said.

"Prepared? For what?" I asked, "And while your answering questions why did you send information to both the Archive and the Timberwolves?"

"I can't answer the first one, not yet. The second one however, I sent the information to the Timberwolves to protect you. Apostles are important to THE FALLEN and the other Fears can't kill one without...incurring his wrath. Thus I informed them of your presence so that they could be present on the train and the Fear would not attack it, you didn't really think it was just technical difficulties did you?" Knew it! "Then I informed the Archive of your presence on the train to ensure your survival passed the Timberwolves own attack on the train, I need you alive, for now."

"But why send me to the Archive in the first place? And who left me that letter?"

I could feel his sigh in my head. "I sent you to the Archive so that you'd find out about The Sleeper and He'd grow stronger," ~~How kind of him.~~ "He's an important part of our plan. As for the letter, that was Scribe Theta, it was left to draw you out to be captured by me without alerting the rest of the Archive, that is why the rest of the employees are currently taking part in a fire drill, the sound of which I drowned out for you with my eldritch powers. Now," he said, swinging his hand and pointing at the end of the alley, "Let's go."

The Menacing Men led by Master Nowhere led me through the streets of Paris, rendered invisible by THE HUNGERING and finally bundled me into the back of a van that could only be described as "nondescript". Driving for a couple hours we ended up at an abandoned warehouse where I was led into an enclosed room with a bed, a toilet, and an excellent internet connection.

The note did say I was being played, I just didn't know I was being played by reading it. Things are getting interesting.

-Shady

I Simply Don't Know

Well, it's odd having a "thing" inside me, controlling my actions, posting on my blog. But there isn't anything the Archive can do about it, so, since I'd rather I didn't spend the rest of my life in quarantine, I'm going to ignore him.

It is officially confirmed that THE HUNGERING did not erase the files, I don't know how, the Archive has its ways. Also, in other news, the Archive centre was attacked! From the inside. One of the Keepers started shooting people in the hallways, the other Keepers, Martyrs and Inquisitors took him down fast enough and took him to the infirmary to treat his wounds and then question him. 

When I returned to my room, I found a note on my bed.

 The Sine Corda want you because you can die.

Don't trust the Archive, they are with them.

You are being played, you must run. 

They will be here in one day. 

The Long Game never ends.

The Sine Corda want me because I can die. What the hell does that mean?! A lot of people can die. And the Archive are in league with the Sine Corda? If this is true, this is not good in the slightest. This also raises another good question, why did I name this blog The Long Game. I have no idea, I thought it would be cool but I don't have any reason for it. I've got a feeling I've been being set up for a long time. Played like a piece in a game. Why? What does the Sine Corda want with me and the Sleeper? What does Slenderman have to do with it, and THE RIPPER and THE FROST? And that's got THE FALLEN after me! And why the hell do I keep using alternate names of Fears in capital letters?! Bloody mind-fucked Fear lettering.

I don't know if I should run or not. If the Sine Corda and the Archive are working together than I definitely can't stay here. I have no idea what's going on anymore, I thought I did for a while there, now I'm just as confused as ever.

-Shady

~~I Believe Introductions are in Order

It is strange how the universe works, is it not? Knowledge alters reality. What you do not know does not exist, until you know it and then it has existed since the beginning. He did not know I existed inside him and I slept for so long, I lay dormant within him and would have slept until death when I would find my way to another where I could continue. Now he knows of me, now he is aware of my existence and now this very knowledge, simply knowing that I exist, has stirred me. Of course this is an over simplification of the physical laws involved, but my very existence is testimony against the utter accuracy of the physical laws believed by humans.

You may refer to me as The Sleeper and I am what you people refer to as the Dying Man. For convenience I will keep my speech confined to between the ~~'s, as no one shall ever say I am not considerate. I am far too tired to be much of a nuisance and I despise the stereotype that we are all, as Shady so delicately put it, Cosmic Abominations. Some of us only wish to continue, just as you do. This is not to say I do not have other desires, but they are none of your concern. I shall retire for now, if anyone here desires to communicate with me comment here and I shall seize control whensoever I can and if I so desire, I shall respond.

Also, before Shady asks, I do not know why the Nevermore Accord wants me, or you[Shady]. You may not edit this post, I prefer to keep my work away from human influence.

Good slumber.~~

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

Dying Man

I was the only one there when my grandfather died, my grandmother had passed away years before. I went to visit my grandfather with my parents every month, 2nd Thursday, January to December, each year. So long ago now. We'd go out and play games, childish games. I'd hide in the woods and he'd lurk around after me, searching for me and inevitably finding me, hiding in the hollow of an old oak tree. It was once so vibrant, the tree, leaves covering the thing most of the year. Somehow it never lost its leaves in Winter, sure they'd discolour, its discarded foliage littering the ground of the clearing where it resided, transforming it to gold and brown. But its branches always looked so full.

But each year a little more leaves would be lost, a little more green would fade, a little less leaves would return when Spring dawned. Each year, the tree would die a little more, and my grandfather would do the same. He grew older, of course he did, but I was young, I knew these things happened but not why. I simply couldn't understand why every time I visited he'd walk a little slower, he'd cough a little more, his eyes would sink a little deeper.

The oak tree had no leaves last time I visited, it hadn't all year, it had aged so fast. Trees were supposed to last hundreds of years. They're supposed to take years and years to die, not a few months. Why didn't it work the same for humans? This time it did, but not the way one would want. The tree was gnarled, the bark damp and black. And my grandfather was barely able to walk after me through the woods, I fled into the damp hollow of the dying tree, containing my laughter, believing as I always did that this time he'd never find me. He never did.

His legs passed by the small hollow, where my young body was huddled, my knees pressed to my chest to conceal myself within. He had stopped outside, the sound of his hand coming to rest on the bark of the tree with a soft thud above me. He dropped to his knees, before his torso flopped over to rest on the lifeless soil, his hand clutching a clump of shirt just over his chest. I crawled out slowly, thinking he must have slipped, or tripped. It couldn't have been anything more serious.

He had done it. He had taken as long as a tree to die, but the tree was dead now too. I grabbed his hand, and he grabbed it back, he wasn't a dead man, simply a dying man. He pulled me closer, trying to pull his head towards me but unable. He simply whispered to me where he lay, whispered his dying words, words I'd file away in my sub-conscious, unimportant and forgotten.

"Let me in."

-Shady

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

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