The Nephilim Incident (Part One)

(I found Nick Dwyer's drafts about this. They were terrible. I deleted them from scratch and rewrote them. It was necessary. -Maiden)

Nick does not talk about this incident, or any of the incidents relating to it, because there is no good explanation. Even among those who have seen beyond the edge of the world, those who run in his circles, would dismiss it as being the fantasy of a lost soul. I can tell you however, without any shadow of a doubt that this story happened.

It is complicated. When this occurred is a time between when The Presence was kidnapped and when Nick became fused with Usurper.

Nick Dwyer was ascendant. He has overcome his past self when all design was made to force him to succumb. He did not mention this, did he? He was supposed to be the delivery system through which Usurper could act upon the world. In turn, he took Usurper and turned him into just another aspect. The first of seven changes.

In any case, he'd gained all of Usurpers talents. On the astral plane, He was faster, stronger, his senses were more effective, and most importantly he had become tough. Wounds that would have left him helpless with an unending migraine before would heal in minutes. There was nothing he could not defeat, at least, that was what he felt.

Two days after he was fused with Usurper, The "Rogue Wizard", in his own inimitable fashion, broke through his wards on the astral plane and killed his guards. Nick stood there in his shower late in the evening, completely defenseless.

This had not been the first time this would happen, nor would it be the last. If you want to put someone at a psychological disadvantage, even if you're only attacking on the astral plane, you attack them when they're naked or showering. Their mind is not focused, they've got water pattering on their skin which distracts one further, and they can't move with their physical body too quickly without causing a mess.

Perhaps that last one is not so important if someone is trying to kill you? I can't say.

For his credit, Nick just forced a grin and said, "I beat your thugs and broke your toys. Go home before I break you too."

And that was when Rogue Wizard threw a black knife. It struck Nick with such force, that his physical body actually collapsed in the shower.

For five minutes, the water pattered off of Nick's empty, lifeless shell of a body, before he breathed in sharply. Gasping for air he spent another five minutes laying there, praying to whatever gods he could think of that he might survive.

On the astral plane, spirits went to work. What they did not tell Nick was that he'd encountered one of the ancient weapons. You see, there are weapons in the world so powerful that they have transcended mere physical construction and become ideas. Longinus, Excalibur, Mjolnir, ideas potent enough that minor mystics call on them to defend themselves or attack their enemies in difficult times. Simply invoking these ideas correctly can make you more dangerous.

Nick Dwyer had been struck by Corruption. The idea wasn't invoked, it was literally picked up and thrust into his chest by someone actually capable of wielding it. You've heard the name Corruption several times over the course of all of this. Corruption would eat away at his insides, tearing him apart and rebuilding him as a monster with one purpose: the destruction of all life. At least, that's what the medics believed. That was after all, the fate of anyone struck by Corruption.

The Rogue Wizard had finally decided that if Nick Dwyer would not fulfill his original task, that he had to be eliminated. Without any doubt, this method would destroy him and take him out of the picture. The Presence had nothing to do with this.

This was also the first hint to everyone involved in our story that Nick Dwyer was beyond merely strange. After all, his body held the impact of Corruption in stasis at this point. As Nick pulled himself up out of the shower, and forced himself into bed, all entities prepared to kill him should he awaken as some sort of spirit devouring beast intent to feast on the world.

They were still waiting two days later.

And that was when Nick Dwyer received a phone call from Alan. ("Time Lord")

Argh

Rainbowbitch stole my laptop. Communicating with phone. We're okay. Pissed, but okay. I owe you Presence story. We'll be back soon.

He tries so hard. It's time to talk about the Nephilim, while he's busy, I think.

They're Hard to Kill

I spent the last week trying to kill our mutual friends.

They ARE persistent. Skilled even. This is important. I think I'm done with them for now.

I'm sure they'll tell you all about it sooner or later.

After they've complained a bit, I think I'll repost old material that Nick seems to have worked on at varying points over the years. You cannot understand the story of The Presence without it. In fact, none of what happened makes any sense unless you discuss the "Nephilim" situation which occurred before her capture.

My what tangled webs we weave.

-Good Day-

Who is Ellen?

Ellen Knowles is 24 and deeply disturbed. She was born in a hole in the ground, and taught the ways of warfare from the time she could walk. Her duties were simple: Hell would come to earth, and she would lead the way.

Both the "Upstairs" and the "Downstairs", the Higher Planes and the Lower Planes, made use of Proxies to do their fighting in the physical world. They were not unlike the flawed shells that your faceless nemesis employs in concept, except the idea was to take a soul and enrich it for your purposes, as opposed to breaking it down into a fighting, terrorizing drone. 

The truth of the matter is that Nick is a Shaman, like any other Shaman on earth. It's just that anyone who took part in the conflict that we keep coming back to was on some level changed and altered to better suit the "side" they found themselves on. Nick received the most changes on record, six that he is aware of, and a seventh that he is not. Well played Ben and Amy. Can you guess which one is the one he is unaware of?

To return to the point of this discussion, Ellen Knowles was changed into something brutal and dangerous. Unfortunately, despite her enhancement, she was not made any less human.

The first kills were the easiest, as always. After all, she did not have to perform them. Ellen was a young, cute girl, and made the perfect distraction for a number of operations. She reminds me of my youth in fact.


The first person she killed for the purposes of her masters was an elderly priest in North Philadelphia. She had gotten to know him by posing as a young drug addict at a homeless shelter that he had worked in. She had grown to like him. She killed him in the confessional using a knife. She moved through the screen separating them and slit his throat in one smooth motion. 


Ellen Knowles spent the next day crying into her pillow, pretending that she was sick. She was not supposed to know fear, pain, or remorse. This display would be catalyst for her departure for the ranks of the demons. After all, subordinates around her had found out about her weak heart. That meant that she was weak, and that meant that she could be replaced by someone ruthless enough. One of them in particular had his very specific opinon about her. This underling there was born without conscience or humanity. 


Throughout all of this, Ellen's life only made sense on the Astral Plane, where she met her old nemesis Nick Dwyer and found peace in her conflict with him. When they fought to the death again and again, they felt the conflicts of a different life where the world made sense. It was a release, and that was supposed to be that.


Ellen was not with her comrades on the day they went to collect The Presence. She had awoken that morning, bound to an operating table. The underling without conscience I alluded to had smelled weakness in her, and known that her immense power could be a boon to someone willing to take it. Nothing a ritual involving heart surgery without anesthetic could not accomplish.

This underling, this weak little gremlin, was mere inches away from taking power from a legendary warrior. But there was one thing he didn't know: this was after Ellen had saved Nick Dwyer from Rogue Nemesis. And Nick had been seeking a good match after that.


Imagine Ellen, laying on that table, sluggish from drugs and livid with fear. She knows she was the strongest person in this group of hell-bound men and women, and she knows that all of those years of cooperation, friendship, and backstabbing have finally lead to a knife in her own back. She knows she will die, and she knows that the underling will take his time. He wants Ellen to suffer slowly, to know that she was not worthy of the power she wielded, to know that he was truly superior. The truth is, that gaining her power was merely a side benefit. The underling just wanted an opportunity to tear into her piece by piece.

The first cut is a slow, shallow thing along Ellen's arm, barely enough to prick the skin. The underling wants her to anticipate. He wants to see her slowly become more and more frenzied as she realizes that there will be no one to save her. He wants her to know the power he has in this moment, and that he will slowly, carefully exercise it on her again and again until she is nothing.


As the underling warms up to the task and begins the second cut, he does not notice the amalgamation of armor and weapons behind him. It does not see the thing in the patchwork armor. Nothing is uniform, and everything is sharp and bleeding something black. Ellen sees it. She smiles up at underling like the predator she is.


Underling is shocked by this, he steps back uncertain as to what is happening, and the restraints on Ellen suddenly come undone.

Ellen hears Nick's voice in her head say, "Now we're even."

There is not much else to say. Ellen killed the underling slowly, and precisely. She slowly broke his fingers, one by one. She did everything to him that he wished to do to her. And then she discarded him.


She left her "family" of fellow killers and monsters, aware that she was also a monster, but a different kind of monster. One that wanted a normal life.


She would never have a normal life. What she would have is ten years of psychological counseling and an inability to connect to others around her. She is not demon or human. And she is not at fault for the fate of The Presence.

Who is The Presence?

Nick Dwyer grew up as an over-privileged white person outside of Philadelphia. When dealing with his potential insanity, he didn't have many problems worth noting. I find nothing of interest in his story.

"The Presence", as he calls her, is different. Her real name is completely unknown to him, lost to the sands of time and the actions of Mastermind. That truly is what aches at his heart: so much anguish, and so much loss, and yet he will never know her name. He mourns her this year, but if he was logical he would have begun mourning her eight years ago on a very different month. If he survives to old age he will mourn The Presence every year. After all, she died last year about five days from this date.

What he has not said is that he is the cause. What might have been The Presence was killed at his command. There were reasons. You may even understand them when our story is through.

What he does know of the Presence is simple: she existed within one hundred miles of Philadelphia during the conflicts that occurred from 2002 - 2004.  She lived in North Philadelphia, better known as the bad part of town. North Philadelphia was once a center of manufacturing and business, gutted when companies came across the concept of "outsourcing."


Philadelphia is a hard town at the best of times. She and her family lived as best they could on the edge of the hardest part, an inch from any number of hives of scum and villainy. I do not understand such places in this world, they move differently than they did in mine. But what can one do?

The Presence and he, as I communicated previously, came together in spirit. They could interact with each other over a connection they shared, and through that connection they could feel the others thoughts. They couldn't always understand them, but they always knew what the other was feeling, and could exchange general  ideas. They often exchanged the idea of finding each other, and finally knowing each other in the reality they knew for fact was real. 


More than any truth you must gather from this story, is the disconnect between what is there and what is here. The astral plane is a confusing place that could well only be the imagination of those who go there. It is ephemeral, like the wind or the future. It may well never exist at all. What is the loss of a person in such a place? Ideas made real, lost forever without ever having felt real at all.

I digress. The two wanted to see each other, and exchanged ideas and thoughts and love and caring and hope. They were very real to each other.

So when someone began hunting The Presence in her very real, physical world, Nick Dwyer knew. When the Presence began watching over her shoulder and going to and from school in new and varied routes to avoid detection, Nick Dwyer knew why. He could feel her aching fear, and she felt his concern. It was touching to her. He could help her against demons and spirits, but this was not something that an ephemeral, surreal creature like Nick Dwyer, who she knew could never exist in the physical world, could ever possibly help with.


You might wonder why Nick jumps to the chance to rescue anyone? We could spend all day desperately searching through your primitive "Hyper-links" and determining how many times he's foolishly stuck his nose into someone else's problem. This entire blog is Nick Dwyer leaping to one person's defense or another, desperately trying to save anyone he can. 

It is in keeping with his flaws. He's always trying to save the person he's lost.

When the attacker finally revealed himself, Nick and The Presence both determined that he was a problem on every level. He was a human, his mind had been corrupted and co-opted by one of the ancient demons they dreamed of, and he had desires that needed sating. The Presence was always at Nick's level. she utterly crushed this monster.

Having investigated the situation myself, I know that this was not the only one that had been possessed. The monster was carted off by the police, who called it a clear case of self-defense, and praised The Presence's skillful handling of the situation. The reprieve would not last long. There was a group in Philadelphia, a collection of monsters. They were demons in human guise, who had long since been tracking down those like The Presence or Nick. They remind me of the one he calls "Ellen." One by one, they had hunted down each of the others in Philadelphia like Nick and The Presence. After her attacker was arrested, The Presence came home to find written in spray paint on her door two simple words:

FOUND YOU.

Who is Nick Dwyer?

Who is Nick Dwyer?

He has told you stories. They are the ramblings of a man who has seen too much. The study of him is the study of time and pressure. We start with a piece of coal, a child that can see far too much. Most pieces of coal burn bright, and then turn to ash after briefly shielding the world from darkness. They last for an hour or so, and their time passes. Hardly the tool needed by the forces at work here. Something more was needed. Outside forces mold and twist this coal into something sharp and hard. Pressure makes diamonds, as many will attest. A diamond can cut through anything, and many devices use them to cut what otherwise cannot be pierced. However, a diamond is also very easy to destroy, hard yet brittle, a paradox in their strength and their weakness.

He has told you of a war. This history has been pondered, and he spends much too much time trying to pursue a miasma of death and decay that allowed our current situation to exist. Let us cut to the heart of the matter.

Imagine these dark times, the ones he's spoken of from nearly ten years ago. This is not a man, but a boy, and a lonely one at that. He remembers feeling the presence of others like him, but he has felt them fade. The coal is burning out, and he is surrounded by darkness.


But another yet remains, and the boy loves this girl. Whoever she is, she is closer to him than anything else in the world. At night,  the boy and the girl wrap themselves around each other in their minds and hearts. They will never meet in person, but on the Astral Plane, their minds will connect and they will feel whole. They know they will die any day now, but in these moments they think nothing of it. They have found their peace in a mad violence that no one around them can see. When heaven and hell go to war, and the shamans and priests take part, there is no quarter and no haven. This is the eye of the storm, built on love and despair.


At times, Nick will consider the rest of humanity outside their temporary peace in a war none can see. They do not see what seeks to end them, and could not hope to understand or oppose it. He dreams of a time when they can. When humanity will rise up and own the world, in balance with the heavens and hells and everything in between. He dreams of a time where the world will know peace, and all will be in harmony, and he dreams of this.

The world will know peace, and all will be in harmony. These words haunt him now. You should always be careful what you wish for.


The eye of the storm would not last. Six months after they first held each other in spirit, they would be thrown into the fire as yet another two pieces of coal might be. The world would soon know the terror brought by diamonds.

Call me Maiden. It is a sobriquet you've already used. It will serve.

Stay Tuned

The holidays never last, and there's always a new problem.

Yes.

Of Obelisks and Order

I'm in a small, messy looking abandoned building on the outskirts of Philadelphia. I feel like I'm part of some big "How I spent my summer vacation" special. I've done more driving in the last year than in my entire life. I'm glad I have.

I sit here in this abandoned building, barred from hobos, but not from an industrious young man with a crowbar of his own, to pay my respects to the fallen. A gentleman by the name of Michael, also known as "Snore De Bliss." He and I have had our adventures. He's dead now, but a friendly spirit made a request.

It and I talked. I'm in a trance, in this abandoned building. The shadows are long and the day is short. Time has no meaning when you're in this kind of trance. You see my friends, Michael's dead, and an Abomination known as the "Obelisk" is running around on MY astral plane, causing trouble. The fact that it IS it's own plane of existence complicates things a little, but it's nothing I haven't seen before. Okay, scratch that, I haven't seen anything on this SCALE before, but otherwise it's nothing I haven't seen before.

I've got "King of the Rock/Sucka MCs" by No More Kings on loop as I sit here. My fingers roll off the keyboard of their own volition. I don't know what this will actually look like when I'm done, but I'm hoping that I'll wake up in a few hours with all my objectives complete.

-SPOILER ALERT!- YOUR HAUGHTY LITTLE HOUDINI IMITATOR ONCE AGAIN PULLS OUT A VICTORY AGAINST THE MOST LOATHSOME OF OMNIPOTENT COSMIC HORRORS THIS UNIVERSE CAN BEAR THE BRUNT OF SUSTAINING. UNFORTUNATELY FOR THE AUDIENCE, I HAVE RELINQUISHED THE WIND FROM HIS ASTRAL SAILS IN ONE FELL SWOOP, AND REALLY TAKEN THE DRAMATIC TENSION OUT OF THIS ENTIRE TRANSCRIPT, WITH THE ABOVE. HOWEVER, MY OPPORTUNITY TO WAX POETIC ONLY WIDENS IN REGARD TO THIS, AND I WILL NOW SHOW YOU THE FOLLY OF THE HUMAN RACE.
My objectives:
-Give Michael and Lucy a chance to go wherever they're heading in the next life.
-Give the Obelisk the fucking boot.

WHY, OH PENSIVE YOUNG NICK, WOULD I -EVER- LET YOUR NEAR YOUR FLITTING, PATHETIC ASSOCIATE HAD I A USE LEFT FOR HIM? WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU ARE CAPABLE OF AN INCURSION INTO -MY- REALM VOID OF A GUARANTEE OF COMPLETE ANNIHILATION UNLESS I SO DESIRED TO PERMIT YOUR ENTRANCE? I MIGHT AS WELL HAVE TAKEN OFF THE DOOR HINGES, TORN OFF THE FOUNDATION AND BORED A HOLE IN THE ENTRANCE-WAY BIG ENOUGH FOR ONE OF YOUR TRACTOR TRAILERS TO ALLOW EVEN AN IOTA OF YOUR BEING TO CROSS THE THRESHOLD. BUT I- HMM. ANOTHER. WELL, HELLO THERE YOUNG LADY. MAY I ASK YOUR NAME?

Good plan, right? I know I like it. Time to go to work. I can feel the vast plane that is the Obelisk. It's a scary fucking thing, when your mind brushes against something like this. But it is what it is. I'm seeking out Michael's soul in all this morass. Wherever he goes, he doesn't deserve to be trapped in THIS shithole.

There was once a Maiden. She observed all the comings and goings with a critical eye. Confusion reigned as she viewed the newcomer, but she was getting more used to this. This world was a complicated thing, filled with complicated people. At least the Obelisk was something she could understand.

I think I've been sitting here for hours. I'm used to waiting. For spirits, for people, for the truth. Learning to be patient has been hard, but I've gotten used to it after a lifetime of waiting.

STEAMING IN A POOL OF YOUR OWN ARROGANCE, I SEE. AS USUAL. HOW -DIFFICULT- IT MUST BE TO SIT ABOUT ON YOUR BUPKUS! SUCH HALLUCINATIONS OF GRANDEUR ARE THE DETRIMENT OF A SPECIES PROPPED UP BY THE HOPE THAT THEIR PERSONAL STRENGTH CAN OVERCOME ALL OBSTACLES, AND THE CRUTCH SUCH CONSIDERATIONS PLACE UPON THE ACQUISITION OF POWER. THE HARANGUING OF YOUR PAL WAS NOT A SADISTIC ENDEAVOR. OH, NO - YOU SEE, MICHAEL HAD A PART IN HIM I REQUIRED TO ACCOMPLISH...PERSONAL GOALS.

The otherworldly entity is a world unto himself. The Maiden has observed such thing before, and is impressed.. It is a very rare thing for an entire world to become a living, thinking creature. The questions she could ask of it! But it is not to be.

I awaken in this strange, strange world. It is an ashen wasteland. Even the skies are gray. The debris of long dead trees lie here and there. The only sign of any kind of civilization is a lone obelisk rising in the distance. That is where I must go. I walk for what feels like hours, before I remember that I'm a shaman visiting another world with my astral form. I picture this place being much closer in my mind, and feel my body shift to match the image. I'm right at the base of the Obelisk now.

I feel Michael's presence. His features are dull and complacent. His mind and soul are still intact, even if his body is gone. It's time to set him free. I can feel the Obelisk all around me. It sees through me, it knows me, but I know what it does not: The soul of man is always a million times stronger if even one person believes in it.
 

I realize that I'm smaller. My hands are smaller, my body is smaller, I'm in my other body again. I'm whoever I was in that past life that gave me this body. I can feel the weight of this entire world on me. It doesn't want me here. The Obelisk nearly burned me alive last time, this time it will want me to know and understand pain everlasting. I really, really want to get out of here.

But I always remember rule one: Keep laughing.

"Hey Mike! Why are you tied to a big freaking pillar? How about you come down here so I can take you to Lucy!"

Mike looks dazed and barely conscious.

"Ughh...oh...what? STOP FUCKING WITH MY HEAD, YOU WHITE PIECE OF SHIT!"

He's also delusional. Shit.

Observe the plight of the forgotten man. Lost within the realm of the damned. Tormented by thoughts of those long past. Pathetic, awful, yet one cannot look away.

MAN, YOU CAN SURE MAKE A NERVE-WRACKING SCENE DOUR. DOES THE HACK KEEP YOU AROUND TO KEEP HIM DOWN TO EARTH OR SOMETHING? BECAUSE YOU DO A HORRIFIC JOB AT THAT.

I shout, "Damn it! okay! I'm a woman right now, I get it! Can't your friendly neighborhood Shaman cross the divide between our world and this one and try to pull off an overly simplistic rescue??"

After a minute, Mike gets it.

He says, "Holy Jesus...Nick? Is that you, Nick?" He laughs madly, "Thank my lucky fuckin' stars! Help me out here!"

Chains start flying up at me. But I'm not where they land. I swapped places with a nice cloud. The chains are confused inside it for only a moment as I start falling downward. It's time to get tricky. Teleportation on the astral plane is easy if your head is on straight, and suddenly I'm on the ground again.

The 'Hack' has no bearing on The Maiden's existence. She is who decides if he lives or dies. The deadliest weapon is the one that is self-directed.

YOUR ASSURANCE IN YOUR LACK OF CONTROL IS AMUSING. I AM ALMOST POSITIVE THAT ONCE THE HERMAPHRODITE-HYBRID BEGINS THE HUNT WITH YOUR SCENT ON HIS MIND, YOUR TUNE WILL QUICKLY ALTER.

I start running in a long circle around the Obelisk. I'm hoping the chains will wrap around it and become useless. Instead, they stop and wait for me to come back around. When did evil attack chains start getting Genre Saavy?

The Obelisk speaks in jibes and threats. It does not understand. What it does not know, is that the Weapon will never act against the Maiden. The act of questioning why he would not seek me would be impossible for him. To address my existence would be to threaten his own. For all the ages it has lived, the Obelisk has not learned to understand.

A FAILURE TO ADDRESS CONTINGENCIES, TO ACCOMMODATE FOR UNCONTROLLABLE CIRCUMSTANCES, TO EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED, AND TO MISS CHANCES IN WHICH TO GLOAT OF SUPERIORITY. I'D HAZARD A GUESS THAT YOU ARE ANOTHER BIPEDAL, SENTIENT MEAT BAG FROM THE PLANET EARTH? MAY I REMIND YOU THAT, AS DEMONSTRATED ABOVE, I AM PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF THE HUMILITY NECESSARY TO ACHIEVE WHAT MUST BE WROUGHT, AND THAT IT IS QUITE DANGEROUS TO UNDERESTIMATE WHAT YOU PERSONALLY ESTEEM BELOW YOUR ABILITY.

   

 Mike shouts, "They burn, Nick! Don't let'm grab you!"

The chains fly high up to meet me, which is exactly where I want them. I explode down toward the ground, blue fire pulsing off me. I smash into the chains, continuing downward toward Mike. The chains MELT, the metal forming into a molten steel ball around me. Commanding molten steel to do what I ask? On the astral plane, it's easy as hell. I spin it, forming it into a big sheet of bladed steel, hack off a portion of the chains on Mike with it.

The Maiden considers this statement. She would hazard that she is in fact a bipedal, sentient meat bag. She is most certainly not from earth, and even more so not what you would refer to as "Human", if that is what bipedal sentient meat bag refers to. She is still technically a bipedal sentient meat bag. She is what she always was, a weapon bound to a machine like a thousand gears spinning in perfect unison. But she was the gear that chose to spin the other way. She finds this interview to be fascinating, however short-lived it might be. The maiden has so few chances to speak with someone on her history.

I yell, "The fire in my soul burns hotter than any chain!"

Mike attempts to free himself of the rest of the chains, but they only tighten their grasp and burn more marks onto his soul's skin.

SO CONTENT WITH YOUR STATUS AS A TOOL. IT IS STRANGE, YET AN ENLIGHTENING VISTA INTO THE SENTIENT CONDITION. YOU TREAD A PATH WALKED BY FEW BUT HARRIED WITH MANY FAULT LINES, AS DOES YOUR SUBORDINATE. SPEAKING OF OUR LITTLE SHAMAN, HOW RUDE OF YOU TO DELIVER THIS MENACE FROM HIS PENANCE! TSK, TSK. HIS ENTRAPMENT IS A KARMIC NECESSITY, NICHOLAS DWYER! YOU ONLY BURY YOURSELF IN THIS MEANINGLESS DISPLAY OF POWER!

I form the sheet of steel into a sword, and starts hacking away at the chains, shouting as I do:

"You know what Mike? I had a lot of things in the works for today. I was going to visit Ryuu, get drunk, Relax a bit. My Girlfriend broke up with me the other day. You DIED something like a month or two ago, and what a ridiculous way to go THAT was. Then some spirit goes, 'Hey Nick! Bail him out!' Jumping Jesus Christ on Crutches, Mike! HOW DID YOU MANAGE ALL OF THIS!"

Subordinate? she considers this concept. She takes another moment to contemplate if the weapon counts as a Him, a Her, or an It? She settles on Him as a general pronoun. If it was as simple as him being a subordinate, it would not be nearly so complicated. Sadly, it IS more complicated. One thing is certain however. The Maiden is no shaman. She is a killer.

"Long story, boss...man?"

Oh right. My astral form is Female. He throws off the last of the chains, and they retract into the Obelisk. The ashen world around us begins to rumble, and the ground below our feet starts to crumble and crack as a crevasse begins to tear itself into existence.

He says, "Uhh, Nick? I think it's time we HAULED ASS!"

OH, FOR CERTAIN. THE AIR, THE ATTITUDE, THE UNCARING CONFIDENCE. A BEING WHO RADIATES DEATH AND DECIMATION, TO BE SURE. BUT THE AUDIENCE! I MUST APOLOGIZE PROFUSELY FOR LOSING TRACK OF MY MAIN POINT. AS YOU WATCH THIS SPECTACLE UNFOLD, A BEAUTIFUL CACOPHONOUS CLIMAX TO A TALE WHOSE COURSE HAS RUN OUT AS WOULD A SHRIVELING RIVER'S ESSENCE, WHAT DO YOU TAKE AWAY? WHAT DO THEY, THE ACTORS, TAKE AWAY AS WELL? A SOUL, A MEASLY SPIRIT? THE REAFFIRMATION OF A MAD WITCH DOCTOR'S ARROGANT ATTITUDE? INDEED, NOTHING COMES OF THIS FACADE BUT A MINOR MIGRAINE AND A NOSEBLEED IN THE TRUE REALITY WITHIN WHICH OUR PROTAGONIST DESPERATELY ATTEMPTS TO ESCAPE. WHAT IS HE THERE, MIGHT YOU ASK? HE AMOUNTS NOW IN THAT DESPICABLE PLACE TO WHAT MICHAEL BLIGHTWELL DID UNDER MY UNWAVERING POWER - ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.

I grabs Snore's hand, and give the air around us a gentle push. This world is like the astral plane, and that means I can do all manner of fun things. We go blasting across the landscape, the land crumbling underneath us.

Sometimes, for want of a nail, a kingdom is lost. Sometimes, the only battles that matter are those in the world of dreams and nightmares. The Maiden observes, and she notes: he's still holding the metal he formed into a sword. Why?

The rest of the ashen waste falls away in a moment, and darkness descends on us. Where are we? A bountiful forest springs up around us. The trees are enormous and gorgeous, spiraling miles into the turquoise sky, polka-dotted by suns and stars all over. Mike's face is overcome with horror as we see it all.

Mike wailed, "No, no, fuck no! Not here again, jesus christ not here again!"

From the bushes descend a terrifying swarm of animal limbs - doe legs, goat heads, wolf bodies and tails, lopping and skittering and prancing across the forest in pursuit of us. They're weird pseudo-animals, made of an amalgamation of a different parts from different animals, a weird Frankenstein's Monster style parade of a mad doctor's wet dream. At its head, there stands a monstrosity with the torso of a man, the head of a wolf, and the legs and horn of an enormous goat.

AHH, YES. MY MOST FAVORITE ALLIES! FOR WHEN THE ANKHALANKHS RANGE FREE, NOT EVEN MAGIC IS SAFE TO KEEP ONE'S MIND IN PLACE!

The trees begin to shift around the tide in impossible ways, joining with the beasts in one moment, at the next being dragged across their surface as an enormous log would be buffeted by the ocean. I wasn't in the mood. I hand the giant sword I formed from the chains to Michael.

I say, "Don't be confused by the weight. It weighs nothing because this is magic. You don't need to explain it, it just is."

Then I draw my sword.

Then I say, "And I don't care HOW terrifying this place is, TREES BURN."

With that, I feel the energy in the world around us. With a snap of my wrist, I propel both of us forward at the horde. We swing our swords as we go, blue fire arcing through the air around us as we charge.

That one with the goat head looks particularly delicious. Mmmm. You find many odd morsels when hunting on the trail.

The horde parts way as we scythe their way through, the magical fire scaring the primitive beasts back. Around us, reality becomes hazardous. I can see universes where we are both massacred, skewered and torn piece by piece in awful spectacles of gore and chaos. In a moment, as the last bit of the horde falls away, burnt or slashed, melted or vivisected, we burst into a clearing, and there it is - the Obelisk, ascending high into the sky, shaded only by the enormous canopy above.

WELL, THEY AREN'T THE SMARTEST OF CREATURES, TO BE SURE. ALTHOUGH I EXPECTED THEM TO KEEP THIS DUO DELAYED A BIT LONGER, THIS WILL HAVE TO DO. WELCOME, NICOLAS DWYER AND MICHAEL BLIGHTWELL! OUR AUDIENCE IS DUTIFULLY WAITING FOR THE COUP DE GRACE. WITH BAITED BREATH, THEY HAVE FOLLOWED YOUR RECKLESS ADVENTURES, PENNING THEIR HOPES ON THE RESOLUTION OF AN ULTIMATE FINALE, A FANTASTIC CLIMAX, THE ORGASMIC RELEASE OF EMOTIONAL TENSION THAT SO PERMEATES THE THEATRICAL ATMOSPHERE UPON WHICH WE PLAY! OH, I CAN TASTE THE INTENSITY! IT BURNS ME NOW, SO CLOSE TO THAT INIMITABLE PRECIPICE OF FREEDOM!

The Maiden considers the nature of the Obelisk. She determines that perhaps he needed to get out more? Paradoxically, there is no way that he can. He's a giant building within a world of his own creation, after all.

    I say, "You've GOT to be shitting me. Mike, we've got to go through it to get back to the exit, don't we?"

    Mike says, "Seems like the perfect way to round this off." He glances over to me, and grins hopefully. "Well, Mr. Sage-man, you ready to head home?"

I RESENT THAT LITTLE JAB, MISSY. I MANAGE MY HEALTH PERFECTLY IN RELATION TO MY PERSONAL NECESSITIES. BUT I SHALL NOT BE DISTRACTED! YES, THIS IS THE TRUE FINALE. MY PARTING EPILOGUE FOR THE VIEWERS AT HOME, SITTING ON THEIR COMFORTABLE CHAIRS, PERUSING THIS MASTERPIECE AS IT DRAWS TO A CLOSE. I PROMISED YOU A TWIST BEFORE, AND ALTHOUGH I AM NOT THE MOST MORAL OF INDIVIDUALS, IT WOULD PAIN MY CONSCIOUS TO BREAK A PROMISE OF SUCH CALIBER. YOU ARE ALL SUCH WELL BEHAVED PARTICIPANTS, TOO, WATCHING WITH SHOCK AS THE TRAGIC FIGURE OF SNORE-DE-BLISS STRUGGLED FOR PEACE, GASPED IN SOLITUDE, AND PASSED AWAY. YOU OBSERVED WITH AWE AS HE AND MARLEY ESCAPED MY GRASP IN CALIFORNIA. BUT WHAT DOES THE NIGHTMARISH MONSTER CHASING HIM HAVE IN STORE THAT WOULD SO THOROUGHLY RATTLE THE FOUNDATIONS OF THIS ENDEAVOR? NAUGHT BUT THIS ONE FACT: I -AM- THE STUPDENOUS MENACE HIMSELF, SNORE-DE-BLISS, ALSO KNOWN AS MICHAEL BLIGHTWELL, AND I EMERGE VICTORIOUS, EVEN THROUGH DEFEAT. GOOD NIGHT, DEAR FRIENDS IN REALITY. GOOD NIGHT, DEAR MAIDEN. I HOPE WE GET TO CHAT AGAIN. UNTIL THEN, STAY  NOSTALGICALLY DREAMING!

Time moves in mysterious ways. And so the case of Michael Blightwell flows onward. Saving a soul today causes chaos in the past, as well as the future, while having no affect on the present. One circle is complete. Now on to the next.

And suddenly, I find myself awake, staring up at Mike.

I say, "Time to go find your girl in the afterlife." 

We were out of Obelisk land and back in something like reality. Michael was floating around me, and ready to go on to a real afterlife. 

"What...Lucy? Oh jesus christ this is going to be strange. But...I can hear her. Hee hee, I can hear her now. She's serenading me, in that lovely voice of hers. Nick, can I talk to you for a second before I leave? I need to clear the air about some things."

I manage to say, "Fire away. I'm not just a taxi service to the great beyond. I take the spiritual guide thing pretty seriously."

The air around us is covered in a fine mist, and two doors can be seen on either side of me. Just like always, one white, and one black.

Mike says, "Well, I gotta say thank you for all the help you've given me in this ridiculous bullshit. Although I'm let down that my normal life's completely over now...to be frank, the fear that death equated to nonexistance lingered over me almost every day of my adult life. So I did things that I really shouldn't have done in the past, and really mired myself up in some events I could have avoided, because I thought I needed to see it all before I became meaningless. But now I have this second chance, and I'm not intent on wasting it. So thank you for that opportunity."

"Not a Problem. incidentally, you'll notice a door to the right of me, and a door to the left of me. One white, one black. The black one doesn't lead to hell, and the white one doesn't lead to heaven. Where they go I can't tell you...as I have no idea. But I know that the dead go through one or the other at the end. Go through the one that you feel is right."

"The right one, huh?" Mike grasps his chin for a moment, deep in contemplation. "Well, I'm not a man to choose based on whimsy."

Reaching into the back of his pocket, he pulls out a spiritual quarter. It's amazing the things people bring into the land of the dead.

He says, "Heads, we go to Olympus. Tails, into the Land of the Dead."

With a ting, the coin goes sailing into the air, and after a few rotations comes sailing down into Mike's outstretched palm. He flips the coin onto the back of his other hand, and reveals the face of George Washington, emblazoned upon soul-colored silver.

"Well, shit. Heard her voice coming from there anyway." A smile graces his face as he walks up to me and gives me a firm handshake. "I'm just sorry we couldn't knock some booze down together. Promise you'll visit?" 

He pauses, watching the White Door nervously. I don't blame him. Nobody wants to admit when it's time to go. Not at first anyway.

I shake his hand, breaking him out of his reverie, and say, "I'll stop by some time. Although...it always looks weird. Keep in mind, it's a place for the Soul, wherever it is. The living can't really comprehend it."

"Hey, whatever works best for you, holmes." Striding over to the door, Mike reaches for the handle before remembering something and turning back to me: "How's Slim Jim treating you?"

"No better, no worse. It is what it is. Goodbye Mike. I wish you luck. You deserved better."

"Terrible thing, isn't it? You get chased by a fat guy, or you get chased by a skinny fuck. Bulemia or anorexia, and you can't even take your pick!" He laughs, although it sounds insincere. "See you too. And hey, I'm not out of it completely! I still got Lucy to deal with. You keep safe, alright? And stop by for a round if needed."

The door closes swiftly behind him.

------


I woke up five minutes ago to the vast supply of What The Fuck that is this post. I don't really understand any of it, and when I look at anything "Maiden" wrote, I get a massive headache.Michael is off to the afterlife, and that's what counts.


And Redlight is playing with Tree Juice that cuts holes in the Veil or Barrier or whatever the fuck have you between this world and the astral plane. Fuck.

Fuckedy Fuck Fuckerson. Son of Anal Sex. There are no words to describe how bad this is. I've got MORE work to do.

Operation: Willy Nilly -/|\- Hours 19 - 15

 Operation: Willy-Nilly

I'm much better after the pain that was Operation: Wintergreen. Woke up half dead, having clawed my way from the entrance to the vortex to the exit. It's good to actually feel alive, I've healed up nicely. One life saved. Time to help all the others.

First: I did not answer some questions that were asked in the post before last. I'd like to get that out of the way. Ryuu has already heard this rant. I'm putting this out publicly, to make life easier on everyone.

"Analyze the Corruption" ... "Different Purifiers."...

Le Sigh, as the French might say. Not to be an ass everybody, but this isn't Science. This is MAGIC. It's not precise, and it definitely doesn't follow the rules of the Scientific Method. I mean, if it has a signature, I'd call it Essence of Slenderfucker. It's dark, it's mean, it doesn't like people. There's a hint of wood.

I mean, the Chinese believed that there are five elements, Earth, Wood, Metal, Fire, and Water. The west believed in Earth, Air, Fire, Water. I've always believed in Earth, Wind, Water, Fire, Darkness, and Light. I mix systems when I have to in order to describe something, hence "A hint of wood."

Mostly, this Jade is bad news, and now that you've seen it: I'm going to purify it so hard that the guy who carved it will sit up in bed and say, "My word! My hands feel as though they've been washed by the unending river of time with the soap of eternity and perfumed by the sweet scents first made for the Pharaohs of Egypt." That shit will be PRISTINE by the time I'm done with it. End of story.

As per your questions, Keiken...I need you to be more specific. What dreams are we talking about here? Link me? List me? What've you got?

As per your statement, Arsoness, you can go burn and die in a fire. Alex (of all people) has grown up, and he's coming to save the day.

Meanwhile, what am I doing? I'm putting an extremely important plan into action. I'm trying to get around the damn filter. I do not know what's going on here at all. As near as I can tell, it adapted to me. And maybe you're right Ryuu. Maybe I should just listen to Time Lord this time. But you know something? If he is performing some ridiculously convoluted mega-plan, he should have brought me into the loop. Since he hasn't, my assumption is that he needs me to run around willy-nilly, causing all manner of insane shit to happen. Admittedly, it's a much, much more complicated plan than that...but for the moment, it's very straightforward. Therefore: Operation Willy-Nilly is going into effect.

Current Guidelines for Operation Willy-Nilly:
1: Brute force the fucking entries through my blog with extreme prejudice
2: Smite Evil
3: Be Heroic.

Stupid? Maybe. Effective? Certainly. No matter what I do, I know for certain that if I follow Operation: Willy-Nilly, it'll get SOMEONE'S attention. And then I'll know where to go from here.

Why am I going so hard against common sense? Because I had a talk with Weaver today. Her, Spinner, and Cutter have been working at the local movie theater near the apartment. She had been coming in from work while I was writing this entry, and then:

Weaver said, "What the fuck are you doing?"

I looked up from my laptop, blinked, and asked, "Writing another entry?"

Weaver said, "Will that help you find (Timelord) and allow us to go back to Buffalo?"

"Well...no..."

"It's been Months! Now I know all kinds of crazy shit is happening, but what exactly have you been doing for Months?!"

"It's complicated."

"What is it that you're not telling me? I may not have known you for all that long, but I know you don't SIT. It's not what you do, so why are you?"

I decided to let her in on the secret as to why I've been sitting still for all this time:

"(Weaver). I know who's behind this. I know everything I need to know. And I know that if I move right now, we'll all die. It will be horrible. It will be gruesome. It will involve torture. (Time Lord) is what this has always been about, and it all connects back to a woman you'll never know. She's been dead for a few months now, and I saw what she's been hiding from me for eight years. And when it all comes to pass, there will be no defense. I have two choices: Choose where to die, or find a way to keep us alive. (Time Lord) put something into action for just that, but I think I've got a better plan. I need you to trust me for now, alright? You just need to live your life and not worry for a little while longer."

Weaver stared at me. After about thirty seconds, she said:

"Can we run?"

I said, "There's nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide. The man who interrogated you in that room, the one I've been calling Mastermind... he's known where we are for a while. And he knows that we know he knows. This isn't something you can run from. It's too damn big. He's leaving us out in the open as bait to lure out (Time Lord). And so long as we stay out in the open, he'll leave us alone. He doesn't even care if we know we're bait, because he knows I know what he'll do when we outlive our usefulness. We're trapped. But not for long."

Weaver was silent.

I said, "I had a War Council after all this started. We came up with Operation: Willy-Nilly. Just keep living Weaver. Whatever happens next, this game is going into overtime."

And then I figured out how to break the filter on the next few segments.

------

At least, not until I GO OVERBOARD AND FUCK SHIT UP!

Needless to say, I've been feeling very pissy as of late regarding perception filters on my blog. It is, as they say, Go time.

Let me know if you can actually read this entry. I've left Editor's notes where necessary.

-/|\-

Hours 19 - 15

Nothing quite says fun like riding to a Hotel after coffee. Weaver was driving, I was riding shotgun. We'd found a pretty cheap one. Before anybody guesses, yes, it was the same hotel from "Hotel Room." And the same damn room. Mindwash gave us our keys, and we headed up to room 215. The first thing I noticed about room 215 was the fact that it felt lived in. My third eye, sixth sense, call it whatever you will, is open all the time. I literally can't turn it off, and that means that I pick up on all kinds of things right off the bat. And in this case, this room had been home to someone for a while before I got there. It just felt...Homey. I felt more comfortable there.

It was a room with two beds, a TV, an alarm clock, all the things you'd expect from a half-way decent hotel room. I won't say what the inn was, but Wifi came with the package. Got to love having good internet.

Weaver and I laid down on our respective beds. The sun had been down for a while now, we'd eaten something at Weaver's before we ran out this way. Between getting Weaver packed and out the door and getting the hard cash to pay for a night at a motel. (Editor's Note: I wasn't letting her use her credit card when something was after her. I was just that paranoid. I was also a cheapskate, we used money she'd had laying around her apartment. Like hell I was using MY money for this mess, Timelord was reimbursing this shit when it was all over, I intend to see to that.) We were both pooped. and by some unspoken agreement it was time to talk about things.

At about this point, Weaver said, "You grabbed me, jumped out a window with me, rolled over a car, and then got me to safety in the face of a vicious mantis entity attack."

I said, "Yup."

Then she said, "Then we went to get coffee so you could feel more alive, and you completely destroyed an army of the things surrounding the coffee shop."

"Yup."

She said, "Why the hell are these things trying to kill me?"

"Us, Weaver. And I don't know. You were here when this started."

Weaver was silent for a minute.

Then she said, "We had no idea. We went to (Time Lord)'s to hang out, like always...and then they were there. Why are you here, anyway?"

"Because he took something from me. I'm not leaving until I get it back."

She asked, "What did he take from you?"

"Peace of mind."

We were quiet for a while.

Weaver said, "That's important enough to come running all the way to Buffalo from Philadelphia?"

I thought about it. Then I said, "Peace of mind is precious. It's like solid gold in this profession. I don't expect you to understand at this point."

He's not wrong. I have achieved understanding on this matter, now that I have read that.

That's when I noticed a bit of motion out of the corner of my eye. I reached over the side of the bed slowly for my duffel bag. I slowly unzipped it. (Editor's Note: I think back on this moment, and it seriously confuses me. I'm a perceptive guy, but would I know at a glance that we were being spied on by something? I'm about ninety percent sure now that something had managed to get through my head and make a "suggestion", and that means that I'm about one hundred percent sure that Timelord was nearby, performing cosmic head-fucking shenanigans.)

Weaver said, "You're not going to have to hurt him to get it back though, are you?"

Then I pulled that lovely Cold Iron Longsword out of the bag.

(Editor's Note: Yeah. THAT Longsword. The one that I had Forgemaster make for the express purpose of giving me a close combat weapon for when SlenderSuit McFuckDoucher came to town. It hadn't gone missing yet at this point in our timeline of lost memories.)

His dependence on weapons will get him killed.

That's when Weaver screamed as I rolled over with the sword drawn and leaped at the window, and the window crashed inward, revealing a man in a blood red mask with a blood red cloak.

(Editor's Note: REDFUCKER THE MASK GUY! Who got us both teargassed! It's THAT Fucker! Argh.)

He should treat his honored enemies with more respect.

He was going for the traditional, "I land in a crouch, and then stand up while unfurling my cloak dramatically" approach. I responded by slamming my boot into his gut, and holding the tip of the sword at his throat. He looked very surprised at all of this.

I said, "Who are you?"

He said, "Behold? I am the Masque of Red Death? I herald the fall of this fortress?"

Weaver said, "What the fuck?"

I said, "You're an Edgar Allen Poe fan. Cute. Slenderfucker, right?"

Masque said, "Uh. Yeah. Put that sword somewhere else, or you shall know his limitless fury?"

I said, "You sound about as confident as the Boom-Goes-The-Dynamite kid."

That's when the whole thing went straight to hell. A booming voice cut resounded through the room:

"LAUGHING HYENA DISPATCHES YOUR FACE AND PUTS YOU IN YOUR PLACE!"

Ladies and Gentlemen, Crouching Tiger had arrived. As in Morningstar's lackey, Crouching Tiger. As in Mr. Calls-His-Attacks-Ever-Time Crouching Tiger. When Lucy Ricardo first wrote about his acquisition of Crouching Tiger to his team, I honestly skimmed the post. After the first two, I figured it was all some kind of stupid joke. But no, I encountered the same gods-be-damned Crouching Tiger X months ago. And the very first thing that happened was a trio of quick punches that drilled into my head and knocked me on my ass. I did not see that shit coming. Now, Crouching Tiger has a serious weakness: he can only move as fast as his mouth. But his mouth moves pretty fast.

That was about the time that Weaver stepped up to the plate. As it turns out, she knows a thing or two about Hand-to-hand combat. I asked later, and found out that she had spent a few years studying Wing Chun. Now, anybody who doesn't know Wing Chun just needs to know this: Lots of punches. Just about everything moves in a straight line. All the blocks turn into punches. It always moves forward, even when it moves backwards. You know, how about I shorten this whole damn description down to, "Watch a Bruce Lee movie", because that's what the basis of his Jeet Kune Do ended up being.

So Masque of Red Death went down with one punch from her. While all this is going on in the background, I'm desperately trying to pick myself up off the ground. And I realize, that even if I DO pick myself up off the ground, there wasn't anything I was going to do. Crouching Tiger had hit me three times before I had even realized the bastard was in the room. How was I going to match that?

In the background, I heard:
"Eagle swoops low!"
"HAH!"
"Snake strikes the squirrel!"
"Hoo! foo. Foo."
"Toad hops over companion!"

I heard Red Mask groan as someone stepped on him. I bet you can tell who was saying what above pretty easily. After all, only ONE of them was using correct noises, and attempting to use Kiai style shouting to get her blood pumping. The other was saying random silly phrases. But in spite of those random silly phrases, his movements were perfect. His technique was fantastic. I had managed to crawl to one of the beds, asking myself the entire time: "What the hell am I supposed to do?"

Amalgamation Sage knew exactly enough about martial arts to get his ass kicked in new and interesting ways. We needed someone who actually knew his business, and knew it well enough to keep up with this crazy Kung-fu shenanigan-o-rama. And that's when I saw it. There was a belt. Right there, under the bed, a traditional Karate belt. People don't really THINK about the Belt System that most martial arts use. The origin behind all those red belts and blue belts and black belts and such, was that you would give a student a white belt at the outset...and then, as the student trained and trained hard, it would get dirtier and dirtier. If you fought a martial artist who had practiced long enough and hard enough that his belt had turned black, it meant that you were fighting one hardcore skilled son of a bitch. That's where it all came from. And this belt? Whoever it had belonged to, it was NOT the pristine belt of a student.

I lunged for it. People didn't just leave that sort of thing laying around in a Hotel room. A real martial artist treated his belt as sacred. I grabbed the thing and felt exactly what it was. Someone had prepared this thing as a goddamn Totem. We were back in business.

I hastily grabbed it, and started tying it as fast as I could. I didn't quite know what totem this would end up being, but I had the tool. As I tied it, I looked up, and saw the big problem I had to deal with.

Right now, Crouching Tiger was using something that looked like Hung Gar. Hung Gar is a fighting style with five animals (Crane, Snake, Tiger, Leopard, and Dragon when you put it all together.) To give you an idea of how this style operates, here's what you need to know: Just about every series of attacks is designed so that you can hopefully end it with a move called "Tiger Rips Out The Throat." It's self-explanatory. But this guy was also throwing out stuff like Eagle and I swear to god I thought I saw Monkey for a minute there. Right as I finished tying the belt, Weaver got him with a series of punches to the chest...which he took, stumbled backward, and turned that stumble into a kick to her face:

He said as he did, "Drunken Monkey disciplines wild dog!"

She stumbled back. That one took a lot out of her.

And then whoever I was stood up. We all heard a gong go off somewhere. I wish I was kidding. Weaver and Tiger stopped what they were doing to trade glances between me and the TV and the Window and...


I disapprove. He should fight using his own strength.

Crouching Tiger said, "Confused Tiger listens for gong?"

Then I said, in a voice that was not my own, "The Student has arrived."

The Student. This one confuses me. The belt was a faded, dark gray. I guess the idea was that he was a person who knew he would never be the master, but tried and forced himself to learn and push forward anyway. He took his lumps, and gave back a few more, learning as much as he could as he went along. The learning never stopped. He wouldn't start the fight, but by the gods he would end it.

From outside my body, I watched as he took his stance. All he did was bend his knees a little. This was some kind of Tai Chi stance.

Crouching Tiger lunged forward, but The Student caught his arm, pressing forward without force, but with perfect precision. Crouching Tiger found himself spun around, his arm was caught in a very awkward position. I saw my body kick him hard in the ass, sending him backward, tripping over the fallen figure of Red Mask. Crouching Tiger came up in a roll, and I saw my body and Weaver move forward at the same time.

WHAM. Two fists impacted hard into Crouching Tiger's face. He caught himself on the wall next to the window. The Student knew that Weaver would kick low, so he chose to kick high. My leg CAN'T connect with someone's jaw at that height, it's physically impossible for me to do so. But The Student brought my leg up that high anyway. Crouching Tiger ducked that, and found himself ducking into Weaver's kick. He stumbled a little to the side, placing himself right in the frame of the broken window.

That's about when the Student calmly received a punch from Crouching Tiger, which he redirected off to the side, allowing Weaver to come in with a perfect jab to Crouching Tiger's gut, which The Student followed up by calmly pushing Tiger out the window.

Crouching Tiger landed on the sidewalk, rolled, and stared up at us. I heard the door open and shut behind us. That was Red Mask slipping out while we were busy. Crouching Tiger bowed, and calmly started walking away down the sidewalk.

He shouted, "Panther retreats to the Jungle!"

Then the Student took off the belt, and said, "Leave it here for next time."

I shivered when I was in my own body again. I put the belt back under the bed, wondering when and how Next Time would come about.

Weaver meanwhile, just stared at me.

I ignored her, saying, "Kung fu is important to the Reinforcement Fairy's training regimen."

Then I went to sleep. Weaver said something about calling hotel security and paying for damages. I told her to fuck off and that we'd deal with it tomorrow.

(Editor's Note: Yeah. I have no doubt. Something was influencing my actions. None of this feels right at all.)

Reckless and Foolish. Is that all he is?

Engaging Murderfists

So I tried connecting into this other dimension. It didn't want me to. I didn't care. I'd never felt anything like this. The dimension was actively keeping my ass from entering it. It was the only explanation. I felt the brush of those damn leeches as I tried to get through, and with a bit of force on my part, they exploded into flame. The house smelled a bit like a barbecue for a while, but I wasn't complaining.

I saw our Slender Suit Wearing Tentacle Douche outside the window during one of our breaks. I didn't tell Ryuu. I just flipped it off and went back to work. When I ignored it, I found myself privy to an illusion of being stabbed by a thousand tentacles as the living room turned into a classic medieval dungeon. I shrugged it off, forced myself not to puke, and told Ryuu it was nothing. He was gone when I looked back out the window.

I'm not having a good day. I would hazard a guess that you haven't had a good day in nine years.

I finally broke through, and found myself in this place that Kay's stranded in. I couldn't move. The very dimension itself didn't want me in it. I could feel anger and something all too alien all around me. Trying to stay in it for more than a moment was like trying to breathe water. I coughed a bit, returned to my body, downed a bottle of coca-cola, and tried again. This fucking third degree broken down pissant Pain Dimension wasn't getting the best of me.

It's nearing midnight, and I'm a twitchy, neurotic mess. I can maintain a projection over there now, but moving around feels like I'm walking in a lead suit. It's slow, cumbersome, exhausting, and sweaty.

But I'm getting it down. I'm building myself up to a point where I can do this. I'm going to find Kay, and we're going to bring her back, and I'm going to murder the living shit out of anything that gets in my way with my fucking murderfists.

God I need more time.

Your plan with Weaver, Spinner, and Cutter really is quite good. You really do need to relax. Wouldn't you all agree?

]| Breakdown |[

All had proceeded as planned. Then, with the blink of an eye, all was different. He had disappeared from the maiden's view. That was impossible. There was no way for him to hide, no hope for him to evade. How? How was it possible?!

Her anger grew as she sought the one place that he would always return to: a depository of sorts for his thoughts and dreams. Connected to this place was a strange realm where he and others revealed all their innermost secrets.

Her anger had become force. It had nearly destroyed this realm of secrets. That could not be allowed. Especially not when it made him so easy to track.

Patience was mandatory. She had waited this long, she could wait a bit longer. His "Records" must remain intact.

Soon. So very soon. Still, it was through her error that these events came to pass. A story was still owed, so a story would be told.

Room to Manuever

Turned in my resignation at my job a few days ago. They were nice about it, I gave them a cock-and-bull story about how I'd gotten into my grad school of choice. Incidentally, I've been doing a lot of jogging as of late. Not because I particularly enjoy jogging, but because the Jersey Devil caught my scent. I slingshotted him into Slendy, and he's feeling particularly sore about being used as a decoy. I'm just amazed it took him this long to track me down. It's a really good thing I'm split off from my new pals right now. They're not nearly so well versed at this sort of thing. Keep in mind gents, the last time the Jersey Devil went on a proper rampage was in 1909. He was shot with all KINDS of ordinance, went around killing and terrorizing all across New Jersey and Pennsylvania, and generally caused seven degrees of trouble. If I don't play cat and mouse with him, he'll just take it out on everyone in my area. So I'm preparing to One-Man-Army my way through a goddamn monstrosity that single-handedly keeps the NRA afloat in New Jersey and willing to fight for the right to keep their M-60 squad-support machine guns.

Beasts are no threat.

Fortunately, I have a cunning plan. Seeing as Tao appears to have disappeared off the face of the earth, (Again), maybe it will get his attention that I'm going back to the Desert for this one. If the Devil wants to take this to the max, then I'm going to give him one hell of a show. The thing about the Jersey Devil, is that while he's a powerful son of a bitch, he's not exactly known for his staying power. He'll haunt you for a little while and make your life hell, but then he'll get bored and go back to the Pine Barrens. When it comes to Supernatural threats, he's more like a brawling, mass murdering fourteen year old with ADD. He'll focus in on you for a few days, but then he'll see something shiny and go kill something over there.

So. While I'm doing this, I owe you guys some hardcore explaining regarding:
1: Who is Mastermind?
2: Did you find out what happened during the remaining 20 hours missing from your memory?
3: What the hell is your grand plan to deal with 1 and 2?
4: So you've got those six things inside you. How'd they get there, and what do they do?
5: So are Mastermind and his people looking for you? What did they want with Time Lord and his people?! What exactly is going on?!

If I've missed anything, feel free to append it in the comments section. I've suddenly got all kinds of new readers, and I don't mind you guys saying things. That said, I've gotten into something of a devil-dodging rhythm, so when I can in the next week, I'm going to start putting up excerpts from my past, which will explain a lot of things.

Remembering hurts. Forgetting hurts more. Here goes nothing, eh?

I'm also going to update "Current Status" and "Recap of the Present" in the next few days. Lord knows anyone just walking in on this mess will need it.

Soon. Soon.

Keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times, ladies and gents. It's going to be a bumpy ride.

 Almost time. I will tell you a story while we wait.

Regarding Recent Events -/|\- Club (Suspect) Entry -/|\- The Old Monster Yet Lives

 

Today, we were visited by an active and interesting computer AI. Guess is also getting into business something fierce. Everybody's having all kinds of fun. I personally get all kinds of nervous when a hyper-intelligent computer starts analyzing me and everyone involved in this seventh degree fracas. Especially since it outright stated that one of its builders was "redlight". Was it THE Redlight? I don't know, but I do know that hyper-intelligent AIs don't sprout up out of nowhere, and real life supervillains don't just leave them around for anyone to find. Then again I'm a potentially insane Shaman being lead around by the nose by a definitely insane time-manipulating asshole who is coordinating a deadly operation involving multidimensional entities and vast worldwide devastation. More on that later, the point being that I don't have much right to call something "unlikely." I'm just afraid that it's going to go Skynet on us and wipe the floor with our sorry asses.

That said, if nothing else, what happens next will likely be interesting as all hell.

-/|\-

Club (Suspect) Entry

It was a cold night in Buffalo. I was busy trying to gain access to a dance club. Club (Suspect) was just another big damn building in downtown Buffalo, and I was determined to gain entry. As anyone who's ever been clubbing before will tell you, people running the show have issues with someone bringing in things like, say, Tear Gas. So I had to improvise. Fortunately, I had my 100 feet of climbing rope. Fun Fact: You can buy decent grappling hooks at any army surplus store or wilderness supply store.

As I entered a nearby alley to begin my improvised entry, I thought about what I was doing. I've done a lot of things in the last few weeks that I never thought I would ever do. I never thought I'd get in a fistfight with a proxy during an attempt to rescue an internet friend from the bowels of extradimensional hell. And I never thought I'd be pulling a B&E to get into a nightclub in order to get in armed and dangerous in case things went south. My life of hunting entities had always been weird, but it had never put a strain on my life like this was here and now. Then I asked myself the question: did I really want to be anywhere else right now?

Was Time Lord on the up and up? My years of friendship and experience with him said yes. My gut said yes. It was time to roll the dice.

I screwed up tossing the grappling hook about five times before it stuck. You'd be surprised how hard it is to throw one of those bastards. I managed to hit a second story window-ledge. Then I put on some winter gloves I'd left in my coat. Fingerprints would be bad right about now. Of course, if I had been smarter I would have left the gloves off until I'd gotten into the damn window. I briefly considered how much easier this would be if I wasn't attempting to be "stealthy" with my entry. Jumping Jesus Christ on Crutches, some asshole bouncer was probably going to round the corner any minute now, wondering what that clanging was. I was really glad about my dojo's insistence on "Physical Limitation Exercises". Six months ago, all of this would have been impossible. As it was, I was scrambling to push open the window and not accidentally break it or dislodge my grappling hook. After a long moment of uncertainty I managed to climb my way into some kind of small side office, slip, and fall onto my face.

Your hero, ladies and gentlemen.

The lights were off, and nobody was home. I picked myself up off the ground and there once was a maiden. started toward the door. I was in some kind of back-room office. I didn't have nearly enough light to work with, but there was a desktop computer it took her many years with its tower next to the desk-chair, and its monitor and keyboard on the desk. Some photos, I didn't get a good look in the light. I mean, I might have taken a closer look around as I neared the door and what I assumed was a light switch next to it, if I had gotten some light. But no, I clicked the switch back and forth, and the light just wasn't going on. I sighed. I didn't know why I was here, but Time Lord wanted me here for a reason. There might be something important in this office. But now she would complete the cycle. One of the guys at the dojo gave me a little key-ring flashlight for my birthday. I pulled out my car keys and turned the little thing on, turning back to look at the desk.

I didn't understand it at first. I mean, it looked like someone was standing outside the window. I was disoriented for a brief second, but every once in a while my body moves faster than my brain. My hand had already shot behind me and tried turning the doorknob. The knob wasn't turning. Close. It was so close, she could feel it. You see, someone should not be able to stand up and watch you disinterestedly after a twenty foot climb with no way to support their footing. IT lazily brushed my grappling hook and rope off the window ledge. IT was here. I could feel the dark vines pulsating around it and see the tendrils spreading from its core across the world. IT had no face.

You know what IT is. I don't need to say what IT is. It is IT. Sharp pain ran up my arm, and I saw that the doorknob had become razor sharp vines. Tree roots were exploding through the floor, wrapping around my legs. I could feel the sheer weight of IT's presence bearing down on me, and I started screaming. First it was in panic. Then in fear. And then I felt that familiar rage pouring through my mind. The fire. Yes. Show me the fire. Burn. It's so beautiful, isn't it? Not here, not now, I had work to do, and I wasn't letting some Johnny-Come-Lately Spooktastic Slender Suit Machine end me.

I could feel the black vines touching all along my skin. They wanted to pierce me, take me, use me as sustenance and turn me to compost. It wasn't my time. The fire in my soul burned hotter than anything this faceless bastard could ever know. Blue flames radiated around me, burning away vines, roots, branches, everything. You're nearly there. I am waiting.  I can feel the weight of ITs power on top of me, and I cast it aside. The fire in my soul burned, and I felt the floor melt and the desk explode and the pictures evaporate. I saw IT looking down at me. Was it thinking something. Curiosity? Wonder? Anger? I couldn't tell you. I detonated, the club was torn asunder, and I pointed up at IT.

I screamed, "Burn in hell What music would be most appropriate for our upcoming encounter? you son of a bitch! I will fucking end you!"

And I don't really remember what happened next beyond the massive inferno and...

...I woke up on the floor. I shot upright, and my right arm was killing me. I pulled up my jacket sleeve. I had a dozen cuts along the length of my arm. They were small things, as though I'd shoved my arm into a pricker bush. I looked around. I was laying in front of the door out of the office. It was slightly ajar. I shook my head, blinking rapidly. I looked at the window. There was nothing there. I hurriedly jogged over. Nothing on my sixth sense, my grappling hook and rope were on the ground all the way down on the pavement. Then again, I might have accidentally kicked that off the ledge when I dropped into the office like an idiot.

Yes. I think this is appropriate. This musician is quite skilled.

I was afraid of this. Most people have a strong core of mundanity, of disbelief, of generally being able to say "this is reality, and that is not." I don't have that. I'm an insane shaman, I believe in things that most people would never even think are possible. My third eye sees well beyond what most people do. Guess said it best, my Perception Filter has a big damn hole in it, and that means that something as powerful as IT can just attack my mind directly. No games, no messing around, just straight up leap right to the kind of stuff you don't see unless someone's been haunted by IT for a while. I'm a big fat target.

Fortunately, as you saw, I have other defenses. Like being a freaking Shamanic Lucid Dreaming Astral Combat Mega-bastard. Yeah. That'll fucking do. Three things I can tell you for sure: Everything on the astral plane within about a hundred yards of Club (Suspect) was burning down. The astral portions of the club were all kinds of messed up. I know I felt IT watching me. IT was not amused. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

It will all end soon. The cycle will be complete.

-/|\-

The Old Monster Yet Lives

I stumbled around the back rooms of Club (Suspect). Even before I'd exploded all over the place, the inside of the club had felt wrong. I'd gotten about twenty steps from that back office before I felt that familiar migraine pouring into my skull. On cue, I popped one of my But/Apap/Caf tabs and drank from the can of sprite I'd strategically left inside my right jacket pocket for just such an occasion. But/Apap/Caf tabs were not nearly as effective as my Maxalt, but the Maxalt made me dizzy. I needed my head about me. Armed with superior headache deflection, I surged forward, checking doors here and there. There wasn't much I could tell you about the back rooms beyond that there was some dark and twisted cosmic mojo there. They didn't feel used or lived in, besides that one back office.

Then I rounded a corner and found a pair of massive steel doors, as well as another door which lead into the main part of the club dance floor. I could feel the dull thudding of the club's speakers in that direction anyway, so it's a good guess. The steel door room though? The energy felt all wrong. A thousand pains had been wrought here. I started to reach for the two suddenly ominous doors. Then I noticed the doorway to the club start to open, and I ducked around the corner. Four of the biggest, burliest bastards I've ever seen walked in, carrying two club-goers who were both very unconscious. They opened the Pain Room doors, and walked in.

Inside the Pain Room, I heard an older man say in the kind of voice a seven foot tall man who has been smoking all his life has:

"Ah. (Weaver). These are your friends (Spinner) and (Cutter), yes? Sorry to reunite you all like this. Now, you can answer the question, or you can all be part of the next ritual in the basement. Your choice. Answer my questions."

I gritted my teeth. Great. This was going to get tricky. I pulled my bokken from my belt.

I heard Weaver's tired voice, "You wanted to know about the cushion...and the bullet casing...in my purse?"

She sounded so weak. What had they done to her?

"Yes."

"...The Reinforcement Fairy. You put your shell casings under your pillow...and then he shows up to destroy your enemies. I had just enough time before your people took me."

I paused. What the fuck? I remember saying something like that, but what the fuck did I do to put that kind of confidence in her voice? I was kidding! I mean, what the hell did she think I was?

There was a long silence. Then the seven foot smoker's voice said:

"You're not lying to me. But I don't understand what you're trying to say."

"He's coming. (Time Lord) told me. He'll be here soon. The blue flame will scour the club's soul to ash."

Silence. Seven foot smoker sounded worried now.

"...blue flame. What I felt a moment ago...yes. Yes?" He paused, considering it a moment, "Yes! Oh my, now things are going to get interesting! Gentlemen, keep them company. We're likely under attack. I'm going to go and get the circle ready. Ahhh, Blue boy, I've missed you so! What glorious fun we'll have together!"

The older guy ran out of the Pain Room and started onto the dance floor. I caught the side of his face from my shadowy spot around the corner. I...

I knew him. I didn't know how I knew him. Then I did know. I remembered The Presence, and what they did to her. I remember the one who tore into her insides. I couldn't believe it. He was the right age, in his late sixties maybe with male pattern baldness. He was pale enough. He had the glasses. I could have used a closer look at his right arm to be absolutely positive, but I didn't need to. It was him.

I unloaded Surprise 2 from my shoulder. Fresh from Forgemaster's Workshop with Green Man's fine tuning, ready to kill the son of a bitch with the most glorious surprise of them all. I'm not a killer, but some people you just can't give a chance. You give them that chance, and they'll take your life. The door closed behind him before I could take the shot. I won't miss my chance next time.

I took stock of the Pain Room's doors. They locked from the outside. Steel security doors, for a small room to torture people in. It made sense. When you weren't working someone over, you wanted them good and trapped. Of course, the problem was extricating three people from four large and deadly people who manhandled rowdy people out of clubs for a living. I'm not horrible at the whole martial arts thing, but I'd have trouble with one of those guys, let alone four. I had a solution though. Weaver, Spinner, and Cutter haven't forgiven me yet.

I finished my can of sprite, readied a tear gas grenade, and tossed it through the double doors. I slammed the doors shut and locked them. As I heard the coughing, screaming, and the pounding on the doors start inside the Pain Room, I walked away to find a recycling can. No one would hear these guys over the sounds of the dance floor speakers next to the Pain Room. I had another reason not to like whoever these club guys were. Torture, weaving dark magics, and attacking my friends are one thing. But these assholes didn't do recycling, and that's just wrong. Anyway, I gave up on finding a recycling can in the offices after a minute or so, tossing the sprite can in the nearest available trash can. Then I returned to the Pain Room. 

I opened the doors to the Pain Room, revealing four very tear-gassed bouncers. One of them reached for my leg in his tear-gassed stupor. I gave him a boot to the head for his trouble.

Weaver was still conscious. She was banged up a bit, but nothing that would require a hospital. She was crying when she wasn't coughing. 

I said, "Reinforcement Fairy, at your service. I am really, really sorry. The only way I was getting you all out of there was by removing your guards. The only way I was removing the guard was by tear gassing everyone in the room."

She gave me this bleary eyed look that said something along the lines of, "If I wasn't tear gassed, I'd be beating the shit out of you for putting me in this much pain."

It was then that I realized that my glorious plan, while glorious in that it had defeated a whole bunch of bouncers, had a fatal flaw: how the hell was I going to get Weaver, Spinner, and Cutter to my car? I'll tell THAT part of the story tomorrow.