Revelation 25

He should hear me soon.

I’ve already conceived my plan. When he finds me, I’ll offer a drink. But I’ll dissolve one of the pills in it.

I hope it’ll be painless.


 

Jesus Christ, what am I doing?

I've seen the destruction, the death that drugs can cause. Withering to nothing, fading away. One day here on this earth, the next day gone forever.

I experienced it firsthand.

I almost died. I survived because somebody up there thought I should live.

If i do this, Omar will most definitely die, no chance of saving him, no turning back.

Oh, Christ! What do I do?

 

 

I can’t do it. I just can’t.

I'll just talk to him and leave, that'll be the end of it. I hear him coming.

Revelation 24

On my way to find a cab to the airport, Judgment and Legion appeared before me.

“Are you finally ready to do your job?” they asked.

“Yes,” I said. “I know what I have to do. But I don’t like it.” I spit at their feet. “Why don’t you do it?”

Legion sounded like he was speaking with an ignorant child. “Even we have rules, Frank.”

They opened a Door. Now I’m back at Omar’s apartment.

Revelation 23

A warden wearing a hooded robe silently guided me down a hallway and she indicated a door with the number 11 on it. I found myself inside a stomach.

Acid and half-digested food were flying everywhere. Then I saw another door. After doing my best to stay balanced in all the gunk around me (my feet getting caught a time or two), I reached it.

I couldn’t open it at first; my hands were too slippery to turn the knob. Finally I forced my way through.

I was in a small room, pure white on all walls, floor, and ceiling.

I felt like I was desecrating some pristine place.

There, in the center of the room, stood a young girl. Her dress was almost a purer white than the room itself.

I could tell I disgusted her, but she tried to be kind anyway. She smiled friendlily.

Breathing for a moment, I thought of what to say.

“What do you consider most pure?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but her eyes went wide and she began to wretch.

Squeezing my eyes tightly, I listened for her vomiting to stop.

An eternity later, I cracked open my eyes. The room was, surprisingly, still clean and white, but she was gone.

In her place were a handful of pills.

I’d read the file, I knew what these did. They caused someone to wink out of existence. I didn’t like using something like this against another human being, especially in the form of drugs.

But I couldn’t help myself. The whispers had compelled me.

But knowing what I have to do, I feel nauseous.

Revelation 22

Last night I heard whispers in my sleep.

They told me to go to the Hushed Monks.

Jack is showing me the Door to get there.

Revelation 21

Shortly after that, I was back at HQ and learned I’d been “missing” for about a day.

I was promptly escorted back to my room by armed guards (I’d accidentally left my own weapon on that rooftop when they shot at Omar).

After I wrote the last post, I found that Omar’s site was no longer blocked.

I know what he’s been up to. He’s been killing indiscriminately. And not just STAB agents, but civilians too.

I have to stop him.

He’s become what I could not.

He's become what I have to stop.

Revelation 20

Yesterday Jack told me he would turn me solid again only if I went to the Archive.

I had no other choice. Again.

He led me through the dank tunnels again, filled with bone spiders. I’d since learned that they were the domain of Grandfather, who directly oversaw the Archive.

Though the Eye theoretically did the same for the Panopticon, I had rarely seen it, save for the periodic run-ins with Judgment.

Once we arrived at the Archive, we were led by a few of the Gifted to a chamber where Grandfather sat at a large mahogany desk, scribbling unceasingly into his book.

His eyes were covered by a bandage tied at the back.

Impossibly high stacks of books lined the walls on every side.

We approached the graying “man.”

Jack took his place beside his elder across from me.

I cleared my throat. “I, uh, I would like to be solid again.”

He stopped scribbling and looked up. Though he had no eyes, he stared right at me, through me. He turned his book toward me and tapped the blank page, setting a feather pen and inkwell near my hand.

“He wants a deal,” Jack explained, all too exuberantly.

“What deal?”

An image of Her appeared on the page. The woman without a face. The woman with an umbrella.

Jack continued, “Solidity for a memory. It will slowly fade without you noticing a thing.”

I realized what was going on. My memory of Her. I couldn’t live without it; I had to be wary at all times.

Yet I could do nothing to stop the Entities or the End they would bring about while it still held me back.

I signed.

Revelation 19

The trail of handprints led back to the auditorium where I was inducted into this nightmare, where it had all started.

The place was empty, save for a lone figure standing on stage, staring straight at me as I walked toward him—Jack.

He did this. Somehow, I don’t know how, but he did this to me. Maybe one of those Objects Legion has in keeping?

But as I drew closer, I could feel it.

He was one of them, one of the Entities locked in their eternal struggle.

“You’re one of them,” I said.

He smiled.

“Why? Why would you do all this to me?” I showed no anger. Not because of my training, but because I didn’t feel any. At this point, I just wanted to know: why?

The smile became a twitching smirk and a twinkle appeared in his eye. “To have fun, while I still can. I’m lesser among them, but I can still have my day, my anarchy. Before the End.”

“But—” I thought for a moment. “You tricked me. No, you forced me to come here, to the Panopticon. I had no other choice. Omar and those morons would’ve gotten me killed. And you made it sound like where we were going was better.”

He didn’t bat an eye.

“It was worse. You tried to make me a monster like you!”

The hall was silent for several minutes.

“Why would you force me into this organization? You want chaos, not enforced order!”

Jack tilted his head slightly, then half-whispered:

“Sometimes we’re all hypocrites out of necessity.”

Revelation 18

Upon our return, an alarm was blazing. They had discovered my room empty.

Given that I was intangible, they couldn’t do anything to me, but I was still worried—what had happened and why?

As I wandered aimlessly through the barren corridors, I heard on the building-wide intercom that an Eliminative Team had been dispatched to search for me.

The ET led by Judgment.

Then I noticed a smeared red handprint on the wall to my left. No one else seemed to notice.

Revelation 17

Before heading to Nakamura’s office, I retrieved my invisible armor and rifle and stealthily made my way down the hall and through the foyer.

I could only hope I wasn’t too late.

I waited outside Nakamura’s office for a time, occasionally peeking in to see him sitting silently at his desk, alone.

Finally they arrived—my partner and…my handler wasn’t there. Instead, Judgment led my partner into the office, along with some chick I’d never seen before.

I slipped in behind them before the door closed.

“I trust you all have no problem with this mission? No conflict of interest?” Nakamura was saying.

Everyone else remained stoically silent.

The Door appeared; I quietly walked toward it behind their backs, hoping I wouldn’t accidentally let out a tell-tale breath and give up my position.

I stood right next to the Door, holding my breath, awaiting the signal.

They went through and I followed. No one noticed.

I was surprised to find that I had arrived at the destination before them. I looked around. Had to still be in America somewhere.

Searching for Omar, I heard the others arriving.

We were on a rooftop and across from us was a rest stop. There he was.

“Omar!” I yelled. “Omar! Look out!” He didn’t move in the slightest.

I had to act before it was too late.

I rushed toward Judgment and smashed the butt of my rifle into his temple. The rifle went through his head, as though he or I were intangible.

I tried to tackle my partner (Judgment had moved past) and ended up face planting.

Was I a freaking ghost!?

My armor made me invisible, but I still had weight and mass. Confused, I shed it anyway. I should have been visible to everyone.

I should have gotten into more trouble.

No one could hear me, I couldn’t stop them. I was about to watch one of the few people who was remotely nice to me in my life lose his.

The team members took their positions, the woman on standby. The shot rang out.

I closed my eyes.

When I dared to open them again, I saw Omar, still standing. He was looking straight at us.

Swearing, Judgment herded the team back through the Door. I followed so I wouldn’t be left behind.

Revelation 16

I absolutely had to get out of my room.

I had to do something.

I had to end this.

That’s when Jack showed up.

“Looks to me like you’ve gotten yourself into a bit of a jam again.”

I looked at him straight in the eyes. “Will you help me?”

He winked, then answered, “Let it never be said that ol’ Jack-in-Irons wouldn’t help a fellow prisoner of this world who was in need.”

And that was that. I was out and he was gone.

Now I have to find the new ET they’ve sent out and figure out where Omar is.

Revelation 15

I’ve been confined to my quarters for insubordination. My door is completely sealed, like it was my first night here. No windows. I’m trapped.

Frankly, I’m surprised they haven’t killed me. It’s like they need me, despite all their threats. I don’t get it.

I have no way to contact Omar and warn him. One of the other ETs is probably going after him now. If only I could get out of here, I could do something about it.

All I have is this phone.

I should probably explain that.

No one else here at the facility knows about it. I found it a few days (objectively) after I first arrived. It was here in my room, on my bed. It had a message that said it was from a friend. It has a completely private, secure connection to the Internet, so they can’t easily discover it. It’s what I’ve been using this whole time.

However, direct communication via phone is disabled, and I don’t know the ins and outs of electronics to do anything about it. I’m not sure why this has been done, but there have been rumors about listening devices in our rooms. Also, whoever this strange “friend” is, he or she didn’t bother to get a plan with texting. Just Internet. Weird.

And before you suggest I warn Omar about the hit via his own blog, I already tried that. Apparently the site is being blocked by Them. Probably because of my breach of protocol.

Wait. How could they block a site on my…? That means…

Shit. They know about my blog.

Revelation 14

After I got dressed again and was released from the infirmary, I had a special invitation by the man himself, L.G. Probably not a good sign.

I was right.

I was made to go through a Door that was more ornate than usual, and found myself in a large chamber, with ground to ceiling mirrors on every wall. On the ceiling was a depiction of the Wicked Witch of the West from the original book The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Her eye was reflected in all the mirrors unto infinity.

It reminded me of Judgment. He was once a normal man, but the Eye chose him. Now he serves as its agent in the world. No one is sure where he goes or what exactly he does, just that it involves killing people. The only human side to him left is that sometimes the sound of a guitar is heard emanating from his quarters.

“Hello,” said a voice. “I am Legion.”

“That’s what L.G. stands for?” I asked sheepishly. “Or are you just a secretary or something?”

“I am he. You can also call me Mr. Mirror, if you like.” He didn’t seem all that angry or perturbed. Apparently my summons wasn’t so he could chew me out.

“Why’d you call me here?” I asked.

“To tell you why it is very important that you do your work, and do it thoroughly, Mr. Adams.”

He came into the light and I started. Legion or Mr. Mirror or whatever the hell he wanted me to call him was covered in what looked like fresh wounds, but they didn’t seem to bother him. I swear I could see movement of little tiny insects or something in them. But worse, and what bothered me far more, was that he had no legs.

His top half was human, but his bottom half was that of a serpent.

“Do not be alarmed,” he said. “I am simply Their servant.”

“Why? Why would you agree to become something like this?”

He twitched involuntarily for a moment. “To be perfectly honest, I was somewhat tricked into this position. I cannot remember why exactly I agreed to go to the place, but in the long run, it has been no trouble. Once they took me to the Eye, I was shown the truth.

“Behind me is a large vault within which are stored 2000 of the Ancient Relics that will repair and release our God. I was able to vanquish the many Holders through the powers They lent me. It was almost a breeze, really. Just a matter of a few hundred left to go. And word is that most of them are being closed in on as we speak. To be sure, some of them will be claimed by our Enemies, but we have agents on standby to retrieve them.”

I asked, “Why do you want to sow chaos in the world? Why is all this work, including mine, so important to you? If everything is meaningless as you say, why not leave well enough alone?”

“Because we all have done wrong. Look at nature. Creatures constantly killing and maiming each other, mothers eating their own children, predator toying with prey. We humans are the biggest bastards of them all. Nothing deserves to exist. And no amount of so-called ‘good’ will ever make up for it. Even the Entities themselves have done unspeakable, unimaginable wrong. Nothing deserves to exist. And so shall it be. When He comes. A void.”

Just then a thought occurred to me. “Why all this organization and control, if you’re promoting Chaos and Disorder to the point that everything breaks apart, why run such a tight operation?”

“Efficiency and Order are necessary to defeat Order itself. Long terms plans must be made or no progress will be gained. Once Order is conquered, Chaos can rule unbridled.”

Letting his words sink in, he continued, his voice now stern instead of friendly, “You will do your job, no questions asked, from now on or Judgment will come down upon you prematurely. Don't fuck with me, Frank!

“Look at it this way, you rboss’s boss Mr. Nakamura used to be a psychiatrist. He, too, was brought against his will. But he’s not complaining! He’s getting the job done! And a certain former patient of his is being groomed to join us as well. She’ll be a great asset to the team, being a Receiver. Just as we chose you, Frank.”

“But why did you choose me?”

“That is our business alone. Now will you do as you are commanded?”

I paused, thinking it all over. It wasn’t right. What I’d already done wasn’t right. No more.

“No.”

Revelation 13

After the argument with my handler, I was called to Nakamura’s office. On the way, I saw that marble woman on the stairs. Calling to her, I started up them.

Not the smartest move, I admit, but I had to know what she was up to, why she had targeted me.

She started moving further up the steps, away from me. I skipped steps 2 at a time.

I was almost on top of her when my foot slipped.

I went over the railing.

They say I’m lucky to be alive.

My arm fractured above the elbow but my head is where the real problem is—bad concussion. Even some brain swelling. I may not get out of this without permanent damage to my brain.

This sucks.

EDIT: That guy in the bird mask I mentioned before, the one that healed me. I know more about him now. He’s known as the Plague Doctor. He generally causes problems like major epidemics and stuff. And the beak isn’t a mask. In short, he’s one of the supernatural motherfuckers. I thought for sure I was dead, especially after explicitly defying orders.

But he actually healed me again. Guess they think they need me or something.

Revelation 12

After another period of rest, like that I mentioned before, wherein I took a nap and watched TV (and of course, wrote on here), there was that fateful knock at the door.

The next target.

I was handed the papers.

It was Omar. Omar Friedman and a couple of others, but Omar was the important one.

I know Omar’s a shithead, but he did let me stay at his place to escape the stress of the marble woman, and when he (wrongly) assumed I was on drugs again, at least he showed an ounce of empathy and wanted to help me.

And in any case, he’s still a human being. The only two times I’ve killed someone, it was mostly an accident.

“I know these guys,” I said.

“What difference does that make? A job’s a job. You gotta do it.”

“No, I can’t. Forget it.”

“You’ll be reprimanded!” he warned.

“I don’t fuckin’ care! I’m not doing it!”

The handler left without another word.

Revelation 11

After that incident everybody went back to work, but Judgment and Nakamura seemed to have ended their talk. I accelerated my gait to catch up to him and follow him into his office.

“Good,” I said jovially. “So I’m right on time for the daily briefing.”

He did not smile.

A few minutes later my handler and my partner arrived and Nakamura sat at his desk. He handed the day’s file to our handler who looked it over as Nakamura spoke to me and my partner.

“I know your first two missions could have gone a bit better, but you have shown competence both in your training and in your preliminary work. Today, once again, you have two targets. Your handler will give you the details as necessary.”

We learned of our first target, a middle aged woman who was an ex-agent of STAB, like that Torrance guy I met briefly with Omar and them. She was hiding in the mountains of Tibet, apparently using stolen STAB resources to set up a solitary, makeshift camp for herself, free from observation. That’s why it took so long for us to find her, a few years. She was good, left no trace.

Soon we had suited up in thick coats and breathing masks to keep us from fainting in the high altitude and were stepping through to just outside her camp.

The first thing I saw was a fire glowing with the backdrop of a dark sky. We used nightvision, but she wasn’t there.

Suddenly there was the slightest of noises behind us; somehow she had learned of our arrival or happened to be behind us when we came through; either way, she rushed at us with a big, serrated knife.

More out of shock and a self-preservation instinct, I jerked my gun up and shot her.

I was told I would get a reward for such good, swift work. One shot, no hesitation. This was just my 3^rd mission, and the second where I’d shot someone. I was confused, but it turned out she had been really high up in STAB and still had some connections there. But her philosophy had changed; she and her cohorts were working against STAB’s interests. Which are the same as the Panopticon’s interests: chaos.

STAB isn’t under the umbrella of the Illumined’s influence, but what they do often times turns out to help us with “our” goals.

Turns out my bonus was an extra hour of down time. Apparently the next hit isn’t so urgent.

Revelation 10

Today that target from the other day showed up. The former Nest. I don’t know how he found this place. I mean, I don’t even know where it is, seeing as I’ve only come and gone through supernatural means.

I think he also arrived through one of those domains, but how he could without being associated any longer with any of Us or any of Them is beyond me. And how did he figure out how to get the road to lead to where he wanted, this building? Hell if I know.

Then again, the papers did say he was strong-willed and strong-minded. Don’t know if that really counts for much if you’re a lone rebel against impossible creatures that want to tear the world apart. But maybe he can still use the Birds’ road?

The ex-Nest appeared in the middle of the main lobby, where everyone goes to and fro their jobs. He made his way to Mr. Nakamura (who was busy conversing with Judgment—I’ll get to him later). Must have singled out Nakamura since he commands the Eliminative Teams, rather than any higher-ups; it seems he thought the TE Division is important enough that his message would inevitably get to the boss we grunts only know as L.G.

The guy says, while picking at his scar, “What you do is in vain. Neither You nor They will succeed. This world belongs to us, the people. Not some damn power-hungry creatures out of a demented version of Oz! I will personally see to it that you all fail.”

Mr. Nakamura said nothing. He stood his ground.

The ex-Nest continued, “If you guys continue doing what you’re doing, I will not be pleased. I will have to take drastic measures.” And with that, he turned around and walked away.

He exited through the large, transparent front doors. We could still see him as he descended the steps (where a statue of the rabbit with the horn stands) and started down the front path lined with trees. There was a large bird visible in one of them (possibly spying on us?) and once he saw it, without hesitation he drew a glock and shot it dead.

He quickly paced back to the doors and mouthed to us that even if we temporarily allied with Them that it would do no good; we could never stop him.

As he went down the steps a second time, the statue unexpectedly slid out of place and nearly fell on him, but he was quick—just before it would have crushed him, a doorway opened up and he went through. Not a Door like we use to travel, but sort of a hole or window to somewhere else; all in the blink of an eye the statue toppled, the window appeared, the ex-Nest went through, the window vanished, and the statue crashed to the ground.

In that split second, though, I glimpsed unending darkness and a flash of light.

Revelation 9

“You did well, if a bit unorthodox, Mr. Adams. Next time don’t hesitate.”

That was our handler’s boss, Mr. Nakamura, the man who decided I was an assassin. He was a stickler for punctuality in everything. And I think he knew I didn't do it alone.

“I’ll give you some lenience this time, since this was your first outing. If it happens again, however, we will be forced to carry out discipline.” Discipline in this case being a ceremony in which all your deepest, darkest secrets, or “sins,” were shared with the whole of the organization.

He put on his glasses and looked back to the stacks of papers on the desk before him, signaling that we were dismissed.

After a few hours of rest and relaxation, I heard a knock on the door of my quarters. “Dammit,” I whispered.

Sighing, I opened the door. It was, of course, my handler.

While I was in preliminary training in the City (which felt like months, though when we emerged it was only a few days later), I had learned to control my emotions, so I didn’t make the mistake of swearing or showing any sort of disrespect to his face.

Anyway, it was time for another mission. He gave me the file on the new target. A former Nest (a servant of the Convocation; I believe Omar discussed them in his blog, if you can find it). Identifying mark: large scar across his neck from a self-inflicted wound. Apparently the bird bastards had never returned to claim him. Rumors were that he forced them out.

But that was the problem: the possibility that one day they could return. You see, the Panopticon works toward an ever-increasing state of chaos in the world, and the Convocation and its allies are the Enemy. The most important one to deal with, anyway.

If this ex-Nest who was seemingly strong-willed enough to forcibly eject them all from his body were ever re-infested with the great bird menace, his mind could be a powerful asset. To Them.

Their side isn’t about Chaos but Order. Sounds like a dream for me, who’s been plagued for ages by that marble bitch. Complete Order? Control? That, my friends, equals safety.

That’s why I’m trying to find a way to undermine the Panopticon. Too dangerous, too immoral. I’d be falling to pieces right now after what I witnessed—after what I did—if I hadn’t learned to suppress emotion.

Even so, I wasn’t quite ready to kill—to murder again. Another one in the same day.

But I had to, lest something happened to me. If they were to severely punish me or kill me, as far as I know there would be no one else here that could sabotage their plans.

After taking a few minutes to suit up and gather everything, I met up with the handler and my partner. I never have learned his name.

We went through a Door and emerged in Washington, D.C., in the shadow of the Abe Lincoln statue. Given the extremely sensitive nature of the location, we were wearing suits that rendered us virtually invisible courtesy of (read: stolen from) STAB, the same group that kidnapped Omar’s sister (I wonder how that’s going—is she safe?). We also had rifles with silencers and specially-made ice bullets that would melt quickly due to body heat. If we aimed right, it might even look as though his wound re-opened on its own.

We awaited his arrival. The Eye had seen evidence that he was going to be part of a tour to see all the different monuments and see the interior of the White House. Perhaps he wanted to live out a normal life again, going on vacations he never had before? Who were we to take that from him?

We continued waiting for half an hour, then an hour, then two. No sign of this man. The mission had to be aborted.

Though stone-faced to everyone else, I rejoiced inside that I had not been made to kill again.

Revelation 8

After I don’t know how long (since time in and out of the city was so different) I was actually an expert at something. In my case, I had a knack at being a sniper. When I got assigned my first mission, I got a sort of buzz, I was proud of accomplishing something like this, something new, something major. Fortunately, I didn’t let this feeling get out of hand, since I did keep in mind that this place wasn’t, you know, legit.

So my first assignment was to kill this guy in Egypt, an agent for something called the SCP Foundation (apparently one of the Panopticon’s biggest enemies). When me and my team walked out of the office, one of the Doors appeared in the middle of the floor—our transport.

When we went through, we found ourselves on a rooftop in Cairo. Our handler had us spread to different corners, all facing the same market square below, crouched down of course to reduce visibility. The SCP man was expected to show up and deliver sensitive information to a contact at a stand selling clothes and jewelry. That contact, of course, was one of ours.

The information pertained to illegal activities that the Panopticon was involved with, and also proof that the Panopticon actually existed in the first place. He thought the info was going to get to the White House and other world governments. He was wrong.

The job was simple enough: I was to take out the SCP agent just after he handed over the data, then my partner would use his semi-automatic and just unload it into the crowd to make it seem like a random terrorist attack, given recent unrest.

My target came into view. I aimed. I shook. In training, it was all simulated; the practice targets seemed real, but they weren’t. I could see the strings controlling their movements, and their skin was shiny and smooth plastic.

But these were real people. This guy and others in the crowd were alive like me, with their own hopes and goals, like me, and with their own fears and frustrations, like me. And they had families.

I couldn’t do it.

“What are you waiting for?” the handler started to ask.

A tiny moth flew into my field of vision, and I was startled, which caused me to accidentally kick a pebble into the air, ricocheting off the TV antenna nearby and severing a wire holding it up. The whole apparatus then tipped over and almost landed on me; I got out of the way just in time, accidentally firing in the process.

The target was hit square between the eyes. My partner did his part and the mission was completed.

I knew why it happened, but I didn’t know why She was helping me ingratiate myself with this organization. I supposed it was because we were on the same “side” now.

We shortly returned to HQ.

Revelation 7

On my first day of training, it was real simple. Basic boxing techniques (in case it ever came to hand-to-hand) and learning how to disassemble and reassemble handguns. The boxing didn’t go so well for me. I was all bruised up and sore, I could barely move. They said it would get easier over time. I was hesitant in believing that at this point, but they ended up being right this time.

After that, we were brought into like another dimension or something, a city that they said would save real-world time while we trained. Freaky Doors popping out everywhere, the city itself is some kind of goddamn maze.

If I didn’t know any better, with everything that happened up to this point, I would have been convinced I was on drugs again. It all really messed with my head.

Revelation 6

I don’t have any idea why they’d pick me to kill people. Sure, I’m a big “scary” black man, but that doesn’t mean I’m violent! I don’t know the first thing about guns. Racist mofos…

The rest of the meeting went into more detail in the organization’s long-term plans. They want to bring together two thousand-something objects together. They say it’ll bring back their god (surprisingly not the Eye, or anything bird-related, for that matter). Seal his fragments back together, make him indestructible.

The really creepy thing, though? Those Objects? I remember Omar talking about them at one point. Like they were a big deal. Now, I knew some of the things he put on his blog could be real, but just didn’t seem like it. I know, I know. A bit of hypocrisy. I see that I was wrong now. Apparently these things are real. I’ve even heard chatter from other recruits about things like a large deadly dog that can't be killed.

But anyway, I wanted to know more about these Objects. Maybe I could get word to Omar somehow and he could maybe find some and keep them out of the wrong hands. Or worse hands, at any rate. Maybe even myself could try something like that. But when I asked for more details from the leader of the meeting, he refused to say any more.

My whole life is a shithole.

Revelation 5

I knew they were not what I was led to believe. Keeping their prospective workers imprisoned in their own quarters, swearing an oath in a cult-like ceremony, the marble woman being there despite Jack’s promises. Not to mention that corrupt drawing from a children’s book and that messed up place we went through to get here.

I decided to stay, though, even so. For one thing, I had no way to contact anyone, no way out (not that they’d let me go), and if I left I might be attacked again by the marble woman. That is, if I wasn’t attacked anyway. 

Besides, if I stayed maybe I could stop whatever they were doing (it couldn’t be good).

An hour or two after the induction, I was taken to a meeting where I’d learn more about the organization and what my role in it would be. On the way, though, I saw a phone on the wall and asked if I could make a call real quick. Even though Omar wasn’t the greatest guy, I knew he’d be worried about me. So I told him I was alright and not to worry. I didn’t tell him anything about what was going on here, though. Since this is a secretive organization, I doubt they would allow that.

I was seated at a long table, with others who’d been inducted with me on either side. An important (or self-important) looking man sat at the head.

We were told that we were working for the Panopticon, the main branch of the Illuminati, overseeing all the others, like the Hushed Monks and the Archive, whatever those were. And we were all under the supervision of "L.G."

Then the man talked to each of us one by one, going down the line, telling us what our jobs would be.

When he came to me, he said, “You, Franklin Adams, will be joining our Threat Eliminative Division. You will be tasked with getting rid of our enemies.”

Revelation 4

At our destination (which is a huge place; if I ever tried to explore it all, I’d probably get lost), wherever it is, I was taken to the infirmary.  But instead of a doctor coming in and stitching up the wound or anything (the handprint was fading away), this creepy dude in a long black cloak (so black it hurt my eyes) and a weird bird mask, came in. The beak looked like it could slice through flesh like butter. No idea why in the hell he would wear something that freaky. Figured it must be some symbolic nonsense or something.

I had a really unsettling feeling about this guy. Just thinking about him makes me shiver.

He placed his hands on my leg and I could feel skin and muscle and nerves moving back into their proper places. The pain vanished and there wasn’t even a scar!

Jack said I could rest for the remaining hours of that day, and showed me to a suite that I could live in while working for this organization, the “Illumined.” At one point I tried to leave and explore a little, but I found the door locked and there was no phone. Fortunately I had everything I needed there with me.

The next day I was taken to a large auditorium. It had pictures from Alice in Wonderland everywhere, for some reason. Well, all of them were the same picture. Looks like this:

 

Yes, the rabbit’s eye is leaking blood.

Lots of people were in the audience, wearing various uniforms, and I was with a small group of people on stage.

This was our induction ceremony, instead of a job interview or background check or anything. Kind of weird, but I decided to go with it for the time being, see what happened.

We didn’t have to dress a certain way or anything. We just had to kneel before an image of the All-Seeing Eye and repeat a short speech about promising our hard work to the Eye and none other while the audience chanted something over and over, something about a void of no purpose. Definitely weird.

Before exiting the stage and the auditorium, however, I saw a familiar figure in the back--Her.

Revelation 3

He stepped toward me with his gloved hand extended.

“I’m Jack of the Red Hand,” he said, smiling. “I know of your problem and sympathize. We can protect you.”

“Yeah? Who’s ‘we?’”                                              

He produced a card and handed it to me. “We are the Illumined. We know things no one else knows. We are working for a better future. We can protect you from Her.”

The card looked all fancy and everything, but I wasn’t sold. Who the hell was this guy? How did he know these things? “Why should I believe you? How are you gonna protect me from a poltergeist that tries to kill me through freak accidents?!”

“You will be in our custody,” he said. “And our trained professionals will handle everything. While you’re with us, though, you might even be able to help us attain our goals.”

“I need proof, dude. I’m not just going with some random guy who, for all I know, could be a delusional stalker!”

“Fine, fine.” He absentmindedly stared at his glove. “If you accept the deal, help for help, you’ll have your proof. If it’s not good enough, just say so and the deal’s off.”

He held his gloved hand close, and I shook it. Hey, what else was I going to do? Wait for those idiots outside to come to an obvious solution? I couldn’t call 911 myself, lost my cell phone in one of her “accidents.”

As soon as I shook on the deal, the nail slid painlessly out of the wound and the board flew off to the side somewhere. I could see a faint handprint over the wound, which must have been holding it closed, since I wasn’t bleeding no more.

He helped me to my feet and we walked into a strange corridor I hadn’t noticed before.

It seemed like those underground tunnels under monasteries in Europe, catacombs or whatever. Skulls were embedded in the walls all over the place and there were huge cobwebs in the corners. As I limped along behind Jack, I could see into some other passages opening off on either side. These were full of books. I mean FULL.

I stopped lingering and looking in these rooms after I noticed in one of them were a bunch of gigantic spiders made of bone. Made of fucking bone.

They started skittering after me, and I limped as quick as I could, but it hurt too much. I called to Jack, who turned around and held up his gloved hand. The spiders stopped chasing me, but I was still creeped out. I’ve always hated bugs.

We had walked down these dark, dank pathways for what seemed like hours when I saw a light ahead of us.

Revelation 2

I eventually moved to LA and got a job as a garbage man. It was stinky and no one envied me, but it had to be done. Someone had to step up and do it.

Because of that weird experience, I was always on edge. Sometimes I was sure I saw her again, the lady with the umbrella. Even when it wasn’t raining. But I couldn’t be sure if my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me cause of the trauma.

Over time, though, things started happening. They seemed like accidents at first, like my OD. But as time went on, things like that started happening more and more (once I was nearly crushed in the back of the truck) and they were more improbable and more dangerous.

I started to get really scared.

I started looking into ghosts and apparitions and stuff, cause I didn’t know what was going on with that woman.

Then one day, I saw her up close.

Something on the truck broke, causing the dumpster to fall to the ground, scaring a stray cat. The cat climbed up a telephone pole, getting to the top cause it was slightly leaned over, got fried, and the carcass fell into the middle of traffic. Some cars narrowly avoided hitting each other, but others collided, smashing into each other.

Glass flew through the air and cut my face, just under my eye. Grabbing my face in my hands, I ended up turning around, where I saw the woman standing only a few yards away. She looked like marble, even the umbrella, which was connected to her hand so that you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

And she had no face.

I blinked and she was gone.

I was scared shitless.

The next day I saw a flyer asking people to join some silly group investigating paranormal stuff. I hoped to get some answers (no such luck), and it turned out they let me come to their unbelievably nice apartment whenever I wanted to.

It was always neat and tidy--no risk of accidents anymore.

These people, a guy named Omar and his sister and a couple others, turned out to be looking into strange stuff that didn’t have to do with my problem. I didn’t tell them about it cause I was embarrassed about why I was over there all the time. Not sure they’d believe it—they might think it’s just coincidence, you know?

I didn’t know what was going on, they never made clear what I was supposed to be doing, they never made me feel like part of the group. Then that Omar guy kicked me out!

He said I never did anything.

No. Shit!  1. No instructions, 2. Wasn’t there long enough to do much anyway!

After I was out, my problems escalated again. I couldn’t sleep--anything could happen at any time. I tried to go back, I tried to explain, but he wouldn’t listen. Full of himself, no good piece of shit! Just cause he was rich…

Soon enough, though, he was begging me to come back. His sister was kidnapped by some thugs and he wanted me to help. I guess he didn’t have very many friends. No idea what they got themselves into there. But I try to be a nice guy, so I agreed to help. She was never rude to me, at least.

After traipsing all over the place, getting nowhere, I saw her again in a picture in some art gallery with some kind of disturbing paintings. Then we went to some abandoned building that I guess had fire damage. There was a smoky smell in the air.

On our way out, I lost my balance and fell through a wall (not the most sturdy; no wonder everyone left it) and a board with a sharp, rusty nail came toward me, nearly tore my face off. Ended up getting my leg when I tried to get out of the way.

The jerks left me alone while they went outside to discuss what to do. With the nail still in my leg. Uh, hello! Call an ambulance! For GOD’S SAKE!!!

Out of the shadows stepped a strange man. He seemed fairly average, except he was wearing a deep red glove on one hand (but his other was bare) and when I looked into his eyes, there was something there. Not sure what. He unsettled me, this eccentric man.

Revelation 1

I hope they don’t find this. They might not be very happy about it. But I think I need to get the word out.

I am keeping this account in between training sessions and missions.

 Here’s my story from the beginning.

My name is Frank Adams. When I was younger, I got pressured into drugs. I did marijuana, crack, meth, you name it. I got in deep.

Like a lot of folks, I ended up turning to stealing to get my next hit. My health was deteriorating. My folks were upset with me and kept trying to get me clean. But I resisted.

Even a bunch of my closest friends died. Wasting away after a wasted life. I don't like to think about it.
 

Then one day came my wakeup call.

Now, even though I was a junkie, I was always obsessively careful not to OD. I wanted to get high, not die. This also meant my stash could last longer. But I knew it was only a matter of time before I got so desperate for a fix that I didn’t bother with caution. And I’d seen what this shit does to people long-term.

But on this one day, things took a turn for the worse.  That was the first time I saw her. The lady with the umbrella. I didn’t think anything of it then, cause it was raining. And I didn’t see her features. She was too far away.

I only glimpsed her, but I remember shivering at the sight of her. I mean, I thought it was from being cold and wet. Soon enough I would know better.

A little while later, I was buying my next batch of meth at a mobile home in the middle of nowhere from my new dealer (the last one got nailed by the cops and got shivved in the showers) with money taken from my little brother’s piggy bank (I was a huge asshole back then). That’s when things got deadly.

Some guys, I guess rivals or whatever, started shooting up the place through the windows. Those dealers went down like flies and I got my ass into the next room. Turns out that was where they made the stuff. I quickly ducked behind a counter with all kinds of stuff on it. Pitchers, beakers, measuring spoons, glass pipes, lots of stuff. There were even used needles. I guess they used some themselves.

After a few moments the shooting stopped and there was a sudden, eerie quiet. I began to creep from my hiding spot when I bumped my head on the table and some stuff rolled off the edge.

Back in the other room, everyone was dead. My heart was pounding so hard, I was sure it was a heart attack. Sweat ran down my face, making it hard to see.

 I had to pull back and hide behind the edge of the door, cause the killers were now in the place, making sure their targets were dead, nudging them with their feet, their guns ready in case they needed to finish the job. “And that’s why you don’t fuck with us, piss-ants!” one said.

I could hear their footsteps coming closer to me, closer. I held my breath.

Just before they would have found me, they left.

I didn’t know what to do. Call the police? But I would go to jail, since I was buying at the time. I began pacing, since I think better when I walk.

I couldn’t decide what to do. Save my own skin, or do the right thing? I couldn’t go to prison again. I couldn’t do that to my brother (I wasn’t a complete asshole).

And I couldn’t live my life knowing I let a bunch of murderers free.

I started walking to the phone in the other room, but my foot slid on something and I fell. I fell on all the syringes that had fallen on the floor. Some of them were partially full.

And now the needles were sticking deep into my skin, on my arms, my stomach, even my face. I would’ve yelled for help if the world hadn’t faded away.

Fortunately I woke up in a hospital bed. Police found me after there was another call about the gunfire. I knew after that that the path I was going down was one I didn’t want to go down. And so I’ve been clean for years.

Not to say I haven’t had a craving from time to time. My memory isn’t so good anymore, either. That’s why I’ve gotta write as much of this as possible before I start forgetting important bits.