I want you to disregard everything you think you know about the world for a moment. Imagine a world that exists alongside, possibly above and below, but mostly parallel to this one. Forget what you learned in the Abrahamic Religions (Judaism, Christianity, Islam) for a moment, and briefly ignore everything that modern science tells you. Except maybe String Theories. Those might help you.
I suppose the point I'm trying to get across is that this isn't about religion. You'll find your share of old men in robes spouting dogma, but religion doesn't cover it. This isn't about science and the people who think that everything can be quantified, proven, and tested with one hundred percent accuracy, although you'll find people who'll say that there are universal concepts you can get behind. This is about Magic. I'm not some goth chick who'll throw a "K" at the end of it to make it sound more mystical and dignified. There are hard and fast rules, but for the most part it's a crazy cosmic turkey-shoot of give and take and hit and run. Not necessarily in that order, but lets cut the pseudo-philosophical bullshit, shall we?
My story begins in deepest pits of hell. Not fire and brimstone, goat-men with pointy horns hell mind you, I mean an actual cosmic location that exists alongside the religious hell we all believe in. At the end of the day, the hell of religion is something that exists because all of us believe it exists. The hell I'm from exists because we fucking live there, and there's nothing metaphorical about it. It was somewhere in the great scheme of dimensions below the planet Earth, and a little to the south.
Some of the greatest warriors in history came from places where it should be impossible to survive. The Mongol Hordes came from a place in Mongolia where the ice consumed them from the moment they were born, and lived on horseback until the moment they died. They took over half the planet because at the end of the day, you can only live on nothing for so long before you'd kill to have SOMETHING.
And so it was with my people. We lived in a barren wasteland, where crops barely grew and there were monsters that would laugh if you shot them. How does anything survive in a place like that? I wonder sometimes. What I know for certain is that reality was not nearly so rigid as it is in this world. Magic flowed freely, and survival comes easier if you can flash fry something with your mind. There were never a lot of us, but the ones that survived were warriors beyond compare. We were versed in magic and the fighting arts, and the beasts of our world became our tools and weapons. We were what Nick has referred to throughout as "Demons."
People think of "Ivan the Terrible", the Russian Czar and conqueror whose alternating madness and genius transformed that nation into a force to be reckoned with, and they don't realize that "Terrible" is a bad translation into English. The proper translation is "Ivan the Awesome." Awesome is a much misused term in our day and age. It means to be filled with Great Awe at something. Awe relates to being overwhelmed with emotion, positively or negatively. This is why they mistranslated him as being Ivan the Terrible. English-speaking scholars from beyond Russia only remember his evil, but none of his good. They forget that often, old Ivan was quite Amazing.
I was a demon. And I was awesome.
Any questions? Because I'd like to move on and talk about how I ended up on earth as a human when I can.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Who is Nick Running From?
Simple question. I don't have an answer for it.
I've been tracking his movements over the last month or so. He's been posting on various blogs using a smartphone. None of the material he's posted relates to him or his situation, so there's no point in me linking to it.
Since he started running, Nick's been shadowed by several people who've been identified to civilian authorities as "Secret Service", "FBI", "Department of Homeland Security", and other such federal agencies. The supposed "Agent Fisk" I keep hearing about has nothing to do with this.
A friend of mine in the Philadelphia Police Department informed me point blank that I should stay the hell out of this. His exact words were:
"Ellen. You stare into the abyss, and the abyss stares back. And it isn't a hole, it's a mouth. Walk away."
That detective is quite the bibliophile. Sadly, I can't walk away. I've given up on tracking Nick. He'll show up again when he wants to. In the mean time: I can tell you the story of why we're here now. And that's what Time Lord has told me to do. I'll pick up where Nick left off, from my perspective.
Some of you may be friends with Nick Dwyer, the AmalgamationSage. Don't go looking for him. Don't make a scene trying to find him. This is only going to get worse.
I've been tracking his movements over the last month or so. He's been posting on various blogs using a smartphone. None of the material he's posted relates to him or his situation, so there's no point in me linking to it.
Since he started running, Nick's been shadowed by several people who've been identified to civilian authorities as "Secret Service", "FBI", "Department of Homeland Security", and other such federal agencies. The supposed "Agent Fisk" I keep hearing about has nothing to do with this.
A friend of mine in the Philadelphia Police Department informed me point blank that I should stay the hell out of this. His exact words were:
"Ellen. You stare into the abyss, and the abyss stares back. And it isn't a hole, it's a mouth. Walk away."
That detective is quite the bibliophile. Sadly, I can't walk away. I've given up on tracking Nick. He'll show up again when he wants to. In the mean time: I can tell you the story of why we're here now. And that's what Time Lord has told me to do. I'll pick up where Nick left off, from my perspective.
Some of you may be friends with Nick Dwyer, the AmalgamationSage. Don't go looking for him. Don't make a scene trying to find him. This is only going to get worse.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
The Buffalo Interrogation
(This post took MUCH longer than I thought it would. Verifying it was a bitch. In the mean time I've been investigating a lead in Harrisburg.
I love your comments by the way, everyone. I just haven't had time to respond to them. I'll comment on the backlog when I can.
In any case, while I was investigating the situation in Buffalo, I ended up being pulled off the street by Green Lady and some of her friends. This is basically what I remember from the interview I had afterwards.
I was sitting in a dingy basement opposite of Green Lady, zip tied so I wasn't going anywhere, and tied to the chair. They weren't taking any chances.)
Green Lady: "Two knives, pepper spray...I'd say we were very lucky to get the drop on you. Your wallet says you are Ellen Knowles of New York. Ellen Knowles, you've been looking for information on a very narrow, and specific set of topics that very few people should be looking for. I'd like to ask you to stop."
Ellen: "You've had some practice at this. The Zip Ties are tight enough to hold, but not so tight as to cut off my circulation."
Green Lady: "Why are you asking all of these questions regarding the last year or so, anyway?"
Ellen: (In my best Godfather Impression) "They made me an offer I could not refuse."
Green Lady: "Who made you the offer?"
Ellen: "So it's you, versus a guy in a Red Mask, versus a bunch of secret agents of some kind. Some kind of shadow war over the fate of fucking Buffalo, a renowned shitstain across the panties of New York?"
Green Lady: "Do you want me to kill you?"
Ellen: "I'd like to know why. Don't cut my throat please?"
(We were quiet for a minute. I'm fairly certain she was seriously considering slitting my throat.)
Green Lady: "Well, since you ask nicely? It all comes back to a war a few years back. The Upstairs versus the Downstairs for the fate of the world. Traitors and spies and people like me in the middle trying to profit. The guys in the suits made it out ...effectively in control of the world. And nobody knew it at the time. And guys like Red Mask and the creature he represents want a piece for themselves. And I...find myself as one of the 'good guys' for the moment. The OLD good guys left some things laying around, and somebody has to keep them away from everything else."
Ellen: "Where does (Time Lord) fit into all of this?"
Green Lady: "He and his friends formed another faction in all of this. The 'old heroes, trying to stem the tides of darkness'. It's funny to think about. They don't matter any more. One way or the other their pieces are off the board. It's sad to think about, Ellen Knowles. The old heroes are gone and dead, and we all had a part in killing them. I did it out of greed, the Suits for ideology, and Red Mask out of fear."
(At this point, I noticed the glass of whiskey on the counter. Green Lady had been drinking, pretty heavily I'd say. My favorite kind of witness.)
Green Lady: "I have a brother you know. He stayed on the sidelines, except to help out this guy from Philadelphia. The War Without End and the Defiling Druid. What strange bedfellows ... how do I tell my brother that I killed his best friend?"
Ellen: "You killed him? How?"
Green Lady: "Mmm...Did a working that would completely rip reality apart, and let it loose on the hotel you visited a few hours ago. Then I dropped a ton of lava in this area without Veil. Then I reestablished the veil making everything look like it used to be as everything that was living burned to a crisp. We confirmed that (Mastermind), the slippery fucker, made it out. But The War Without End has ended. Nothing could have survived that."
(One of the unusual facets of the last of the Missing Hours posts, is that the actual amount of material covered doesn't cover more than the first five minutes of the last set of missing hours. It confused me greatly when I read it, and I'm surprised no one said anything. But to translate what she said in her above statement, Green Lady has basically said she sundered the Veil around the Hotel. Seeing as she had a thousand-odd murderous mantis with her at the time, and had dropped a whole lot of magical lava in an area that had nothing to defend against magic anymore, that basically meant that anything in that area would be burned to nothing and THEN hacked into a thousand pieces, not to mention the psychological effects of having the veil shattered in an area. There are still traces of the damage, as seen in entries like "Hotel Room." Except that NONE of this explains how Nick managed to reappear at his home, in his room, with his car, and... well, on the other hand, EVERYTHING is explained if Time Lord was nearby when the veil break occurred. The kind of power that people like Nick and Time Lord have on the other side of the veil is ridiculous. But Time Lord would have STILL needed a similar break to occur at Nick's House for any of this to make sense.
Believe me, I haven't even BEGUN to cover how insane this is. She literally shattered the veil in an area JUST to make sure that both Mastermind and Nick died. Risky, Ballsy, Dangerous, and there are a MILLION possible outcomes when you break the veil. Needless to say, I'm looking into it.)
Ellen: "...Huh."
Green Lady: "I need to go figure out how to dispose of you. I'll be back."
(After that, I got the fuck out of dodge. I'm not a smooth talker, I'm an escape artist. I'm about ninety percent certain she WOULD have killed me if I was still there when she got back. In any case, if I couldn't break a chair and slip out of the zip ties, I wouldn't have any right to have survived for this long. See you next time.)
I love your comments by the way, everyone. I just haven't had time to respond to them. I'll comment on the backlog when I can.
In any case, while I was investigating the situation in Buffalo, I ended up being pulled off the street by Green Lady and some of her friends. This is basically what I remember from the interview I had afterwards.
I was sitting in a dingy basement opposite of Green Lady, zip tied so I wasn't going anywhere, and tied to the chair. They weren't taking any chances.)
Green Lady: "Two knives, pepper spray...I'd say we were very lucky to get the drop on you. Your wallet says you are Ellen Knowles of New York. Ellen Knowles, you've been looking for information on a very narrow, and specific set of topics that very few people should be looking for. I'd like to ask you to stop."
Ellen: "You've had some practice at this. The Zip Ties are tight enough to hold, but not so tight as to cut off my circulation."
Green Lady: "Why are you asking all of these questions regarding the last year or so, anyway?"
Ellen: (In my best Godfather Impression) "They made me an offer I could not refuse."
Green Lady: "Who made you the offer?"
Ellen: "So it's you, versus a guy in a Red Mask, versus a bunch of secret agents of some kind. Some kind of shadow war over the fate of fucking Buffalo, a renowned shitstain across the panties of New York?"
Green Lady: "Do you want me to kill you?"
Ellen: "I'd like to know why. Don't cut my throat please?"
(We were quiet for a minute. I'm fairly certain she was seriously considering slitting my throat.)
Green Lady: "Well, since you ask nicely? It all comes back to a war a few years back. The Upstairs versus the Downstairs for the fate of the world. Traitors and spies and people like me in the middle trying to profit. The guys in the suits made it out ...effectively in control of the world. And nobody knew it at the time. And guys like Red Mask and the creature he represents want a piece for themselves. And I...find myself as one of the 'good guys' for the moment. The OLD good guys left some things laying around, and somebody has to keep them away from everything else."
Ellen: "Where does (Time Lord) fit into all of this?"
Green Lady: "He and his friends formed another faction in all of this. The 'old heroes, trying to stem the tides of darkness'. It's funny to think about. They don't matter any more. One way or the other their pieces are off the board. It's sad to think about, Ellen Knowles. The old heroes are gone and dead, and we all had a part in killing them. I did it out of greed, the Suits for ideology, and Red Mask out of fear."
(At this point, I noticed the glass of whiskey on the counter. Green Lady had been drinking, pretty heavily I'd say. My favorite kind of witness.)
Green Lady: "I have a brother you know. He stayed on the sidelines, except to help out this guy from Philadelphia. The War Without End and the Defiling Druid. What strange bedfellows ... how do I tell my brother that I killed his best friend?"
Ellen: "You killed him? How?"
Green Lady: "Mmm...Did a working that would completely rip reality apart, and let it loose on the hotel you visited a few hours ago. Then I dropped a ton of lava in this area without Veil. Then I reestablished the veil making everything look like it used to be as everything that was living burned to a crisp. We confirmed that (Mastermind), the slippery fucker, made it out. But The War Without End has ended. Nothing could have survived that."
(One of the unusual facets of the last of the Missing Hours posts, is that the actual amount of material covered doesn't cover more than the first five minutes of the last set of missing hours. It confused me greatly when I read it, and I'm surprised no one said anything. But to translate what she said in her above statement, Green Lady has basically said she sundered the Veil around the Hotel. Seeing as she had a thousand-odd murderous mantis with her at the time, and had dropped a whole lot of magical lava in an area that had nothing to defend against magic anymore, that basically meant that anything in that area would be burned to nothing and THEN hacked into a thousand pieces, not to mention the psychological effects of having the veil shattered in an area. There are still traces of the damage, as seen in entries like "Hotel Room." Except that NONE of this explains how Nick managed to reappear at his home, in his room, with his car, and... well, on the other hand, EVERYTHING is explained if Time Lord was nearby when the veil break occurred. The kind of power that people like Nick and Time Lord have on the other side of the veil is ridiculous. But Time Lord would have STILL needed a similar break to occur at Nick's House for any of this to make sense.
Believe me, I haven't even BEGUN to cover how insane this is. She literally shattered the veil in an area JUST to make sure that both Mastermind and Nick died. Risky, Ballsy, Dangerous, and there are a MILLION possible outcomes when you break the veil. Needless to say, I'm looking into it.)
Ellen: "...Huh."
Green Lady: "I need to go figure out how to dispose of you. I'll be back."
(After that, I got the fuck out of dodge. I'm not a smooth talker, I'm an escape artist. I'm about ninety percent certain she WOULD have killed me if I was still there when she got back. In any case, if I couldn't break a chair and slip out of the zip ties, I wouldn't have any right to have survived for this long. See you next time.)
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tried to get away. Didn't take. -/|\- The Missing Hours: 14 - 7 -/|\- the Missing Hours: Final 6 hours
I tried to get away.
I'm not some hero, and I don't have a dog in this fight. When I started driving up to Buffalo to verify the leftover Missing Hour posts, I realized I wanted out. I wanted out right the hell now. Getting acquainted with "Nick" and his "Friends" (IE: You guys) and your blogs was possibly the creepiest thing I've dealt with in some time. Yes, I've heard stories of the "Fears" and similar entities. They're up there on the list of things you do not fuck with, and about 99.9% of people worldwide will never, ever have to worry about them. If you know about them, you don't even say their names out loud, in case doing so attracts their attention. Like I said though, for most people the Fears are purely academic.
Not for "Nick" though, and now I'm stuck in the middle of this.
I stopped for gas at the same gas station that the whole "Missing Hours" debacle began. I know this because when the guy was filling my tank, he said:
"I should go into Sticky Note delivery. More money well earned."
And he handed me the stack. The top sticky note said:
"You wouldn't happen to be thinking of running, would you?"
I reached into my glove box to pull out my lighter from when I smoked. On top of it was another sticky note that said:
"Read the damn stack."
That got my attention.
I said to the stack, "Well, I was thinking about it."
I tore off the top sticky, "Don't."
I said, "Look, it was nice to find out who he really was, but this is out of my league. I'm no hero."
I tore off the top sticky, "You want to watch Nick, me, and everyone else die? Go ahead."
"Fuck you."
"You are cute. I'll think about it."
"Go to hell you son of a bitch!"
I looked up at the guy who was pumping gas. He was giving me a weird look.
I said, "Haven't you ever seen someone talk to a bunch of sticky notes before?"
He shook his head slowly. I shut up, handed him his money, and tore off the top note to reveal the final message:
"Stay on the case. Or else."
I really hate Time Lord.
Incidentally, does anyone know what "-/|\-" means? "Nick" uses it for all his breaks between segments, and I still don't know what it means. In any case, here are the rest of the Missing Hours information, with edits where necessary. I did some poking about in Buffalo during the last week or so. Found a lot of things you wouldn't expect.
For those of you who need a refresher:
1st: 5 of the Missing 29 Hours
2nd: Hours 24 - 20
3rd: Hours 19 - 15
This took MUCH longer than I thought. There were complications. I'll explain later.
-/|\-
The Missing Hours: 14 - 7
Hours 14 to 7. I'd love to say some kind of action packed extravaganza occurred, but no. For the most part, me and Weaver spent that time trying to sleep. I was an arrogant fucker, wasn't I? We'd kicked Crouching Tiger the fuck out, I felt like I was some kind of badass. And I was tired and filled with the wrath of almost an entire day of migraine.
(Editor's note: Okay. Something is seriously wrong with this post, AND Hours 19 - 15. If this post was written during the time frame I had it in, then that would mean that Nick knew Crouching Tiger was referred to as Crouching Tiger. Crouching Tiger didn't actually appear on any of the blogs for at least two months after this incident. Maybe Nick just updated it when he reposted it? That seems unlike him somehow.)
I didn't sleep peacefully. I remember walking down the streets of Philadelphia with an old revolver and a leather duster with cowboy hat. The streets faded, and I was in The Desert again. The Desert faded, and I saw Tallsuit McMotherfucker. He faded, and I saw myself in the mirror. I looked like I did when my astral form was female briefly.
(Editor's note: This is obviously before he found out that it's always been Female. Except that it hasn't. That one is something of an odd story that you probably already are aware of.)
Me and this female me pointed our guns at each other. And suddenly I WAS her, and I shot the real me down. And now I was this woman walking along, and then I heard Weaver.
She said, "Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck...Wake up!"
I woke up, and felt Weaver rushing me away from the bed. I complied as best I could, banging my head against the bedpost on my way out of it.
Weaver said, "Guys with guns outside. Lots of them!"
I said blearily, "The Police?"
"The police don't wear suits and carry submachine guns!"
That woke me up. We grabbed our stuff and ran for it.
(Editor's Note: Finding the hotel they stayed in wasn't hard. I just had to find the only hotel in town with a manager who'd had his brain brutally fucked in. "Nick" might not tell you this, but he's always been something of a joke with the mental manipulation aspect of things. Me, not so much. I checked room 215, I checked local police records, and I checked with the staff. Apparently, the US Secret Service was looking for counterfeiters. I believe that about as much as I believe in Santa Claus.)
-/|\-
The Missing Hours: The Final 6 Hours
There comes a moment, when you realize how absolutely fucked you are. Me and Weaver were running through a hallway, trying to come up with a way out, we heard the door to the outside of our motel room quietly open as we tried to vacate the fuck out, and then had the joy to round the corner to the stair well, where I saw a guy slowly starting to look up to the top of it as we started to go down it. Weaver was more alert than me, and smart enough to pull me out of his sight. So we were standing at the top of this stairwell in a crappy motel, effectively surrounded on all sides, completely unarmed.
Ladies and Gentlemen, your hero, right before he decides to do something completely fucking stupid.
I whispered to Weaver, "Listen. I'll be back. TRUST me. Just remember to put some shell casings under your pillow. The Reinforcement Fairy comes to all little boys and little girls who have big fucking enemies that need a whuppin."
She had just enough time to say, "Whaaaaa-?"
Then I had leaped over the railing and onto the guy coming up the stairs. My weight, plus the impact of his head against the stairs, meant one unconscious gun-toting asshole. And then I was face-to-face with Mastermind.
(Editor's Note: The timing of this feels strange. The guy sits at the bottom of the stairwell looking up. Weaver pulls Nick out of his line of sight. WHY does stairwell guy wait so long? And how did he not hear any whispering? There's a Flatscreen TV near the Manager's Desk, which is near the Stairwell, which as near as I can tell the Manager watches pretty damn near all the time. It might have covered the noise? Distracted him while it was at it? That's my guess on the time lapse.)
He reached for his gun, I threw an elbow into his face and spun him around. Suddenly, we weren't fighting anymore. What was happening now was that I had a hostage in a chokehold as two other men in suits with guns in the lobby pointed them right at me. I don't even remember HOW I got him into that hold so quickly, but I did. I finished drawing Mastermind's gun from behind him, and jammed it into his side and said:
"One wrong move, and douchey gets it."
So. Picturing this scene: A bunch of suit wearing assholes with guns aiming at me and shouting for me to put my weapon down as I hold the key to this ENTIRE fucking thing hostage, as Weaver scampers down the stairs behind me.
I say to her, "You heard me. Get out of here."
She just gives me this look, taking a moment to marvel at the scene, and think about what action movie I had jumped out of. I have to admit, I was feeling nervous as hell, but pretty good about myself.
She started to say, "I'm not going to-"
I cut her off, "Shut up. Go."
(Editor's note: "Nick" does a shitty job of describing how this must have worked. Then again, like everything else saved on this blogger, this appears to be a first draft. After examining the Motel where this happened, Here's how things probably worked. If "Nick" was standing in the doorway to the stairwell, there would be a partition that would have kept the gunmen from seeing Weaver behind him. There was a back door just a little ways from said partition. "Nick" tried his best to keep everyone who showed up on this blog anonymous, but if Weaver is who I think she is, she's short enough, and "Nick" with a hostage is big enough, that their bodies could screen her until the point that she was about to exit out this back door. The gunmen couldn't have threatened her until AFTER she was gone. And gods know they must have been focused on "Nick.")
The Assholes start to point their guns at Weaver for a brief moment as she headed out the door, and tried to fire off a shot at them. I pointed MY gun at them for long enough to distract them, and then back at Mastermind.
Mastermind said, "Well, this is a surprising turn of events."
And I had just enough time to realize EXACTLY who Mastermind was. Having experienced that revelation again recently, I can tell you, it sucks doing it twice. There is only ONE reason I did not immediately jam the gun into him and unload the clip in the most violent and brutal fashion that I could manage.
The safety was on.
Mastermind stomped on my foot, pulled it out of my hand, and kicked me in the face. For an old guy, he's an awfully spry motherfucker.
And this is where the story should end. I should be shot dead or executed in a backroom by Mastermind and his goons. I shouldn't be talking to you now. But that's when I got lucky as fuck all.
Between the Jersey Devil, the Slender Man, and everything else I've run into over the years, this was bound to happen sooner or later. But the next thing I know, we're knee deep in Giant Mantis trying to pierce the Veil and tear us all to shreds. Mastermind's a canny operator, and loves him some Necromancy I think, because the spirits of the dead started swarming them. Mastermind's men formed up around us, and pulled out salt packets. In seconds, we were in a circle of protection.
And with that, Green Lady entered the room. You don't know her, because I haven't talked about her. You see, Green Man has a sister. And she is a manipulative, nasty, murderous bitch when she wants to be.
Her exact words were: "I'm here for what I'm owed, (Mastermind.)"
And then the world was an explosion of pain and light.
(Editor's note: I've been held up for so long because I was the Green Lady's prisoner for a few days. I'll tell you all about that in a little while. For now...lets say that he's not lying about how much of a bitch she is and leave it at that. She ripped the veil, time, and space a new one. My bet as to how "Nick" ended up back at his apartment? Because Time Lord was watching, and pulled his friend out of trouble. Beyond that, I'm still investigating.
So far, there are three factions in all of this: The Proxies, Mastermind, and Green Lady. I'll have something more concrete for you soon. After I've healed up a little.)
I'm not some hero, and I don't have a dog in this fight. When I started driving up to Buffalo to verify the leftover Missing Hour posts, I realized I wanted out. I wanted out right the hell now. Getting acquainted with "Nick" and his "Friends" (IE: You guys) and your blogs was possibly the creepiest thing I've dealt with in some time. Yes, I've heard stories of the "Fears" and similar entities. They're up there on the list of things you do not fuck with, and about 99.9% of people worldwide will never, ever have to worry about them. If you know about them, you don't even say their names out loud, in case doing so attracts their attention. Like I said though, for most people the Fears are purely academic.
Not for "Nick" though, and now I'm stuck in the middle of this.
I stopped for gas at the same gas station that the whole "Missing Hours" debacle began. I know this because when the guy was filling my tank, he said:
"I should go into Sticky Note delivery. More money well earned."
And he handed me the stack. The top sticky note said:
"You wouldn't happen to be thinking of running, would you?"
I reached into my glove box to pull out my lighter from when I smoked. On top of it was another sticky note that said:
"Read the damn stack."
That got my attention.
I said to the stack, "Well, I was thinking about it."
I tore off the top sticky, "Don't."
I said, "Look, it was nice to find out who he really was, but this is out of my league. I'm no hero."
I tore off the top sticky, "You want to watch Nick, me, and everyone else die? Go ahead."
"Fuck you."
"You are cute. I'll think about it."
"Go to hell you son of a bitch!"
I looked up at the guy who was pumping gas. He was giving me a weird look.
I said, "Haven't you ever seen someone talk to a bunch of sticky notes before?"
He shook his head slowly. I shut up, handed him his money, and tore off the top note to reveal the final message:
"Stay on the case. Or else."
I really hate Time Lord.
Incidentally, does anyone know what "-/|\-" means? "Nick" uses it for all his breaks between segments, and I still don't know what it means. In any case, here are the rest of the Missing Hours information, with edits where necessary. I did some poking about in Buffalo during the last week or so. Found a lot of things you wouldn't expect.
For those of you who need a refresher:
1st: 5 of the Missing 29 Hours
2nd: Hours 24 - 20
3rd: Hours 19 - 15
This took MUCH longer than I thought. There were complications. I'll explain later.
-/|\-
The Missing Hours: 14 - 7
Hours 14 to 7. I'd love to say some kind of action packed extravaganza occurred, but no. For the most part, me and Weaver spent that time trying to sleep. I was an arrogant fucker, wasn't I? We'd kicked Crouching Tiger the fuck out, I felt like I was some kind of badass. And I was tired and filled with the wrath of almost an entire day of migraine.
(Editor's note: Okay. Something is seriously wrong with this post, AND Hours 19 - 15. If this post was written during the time frame I had it in, then that would mean that Nick knew Crouching Tiger was referred to as Crouching Tiger. Crouching Tiger didn't actually appear on any of the blogs for at least two months after this incident. Maybe Nick just updated it when he reposted it? That seems unlike him somehow.)
I didn't sleep peacefully. I remember walking down the streets of Philadelphia with an old revolver and a leather duster with cowboy hat. The streets faded, and I was in The Desert again. The Desert faded, and I saw Tallsuit McMotherfucker. He faded, and I saw myself in the mirror. I looked like I did when my astral form was female briefly.
(Editor's note: This is obviously before he found out that it's always been Female. Except that it hasn't. That one is something of an odd story that you probably already are aware of.)
Me and this female me pointed our guns at each other. And suddenly I WAS her, and I shot the real me down. And now I was this woman walking along, and then I heard Weaver.
She said, "Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck...Wake up!"
I woke up, and felt Weaver rushing me away from the bed. I complied as best I could, banging my head against the bedpost on my way out of it.
Weaver said, "Guys with guns outside. Lots of them!"
I said blearily, "The Police?"
"The police don't wear suits and carry submachine guns!"
That woke me up. We grabbed our stuff and ran for it.
(Editor's Note: Finding the hotel they stayed in wasn't hard. I just had to find the only hotel in town with a manager who'd had his brain brutally fucked in. "Nick" might not tell you this, but he's always been something of a joke with the mental manipulation aspect of things. Me, not so much. I checked room 215, I checked local police records, and I checked with the staff. Apparently, the US Secret Service was looking for counterfeiters. I believe that about as much as I believe in Santa Claus.)
-/|\-
The Missing Hours: The Final 6 Hours
There comes a moment, when you realize how absolutely fucked you are. Me and Weaver were running through a hallway, trying to come up with a way out, we heard the door to the outside of our motel room quietly open as we tried to vacate the fuck out, and then had the joy to round the corner to the stair well, where I saw a guy slowly starting to look up to the top of it as we started to go down it. Weaver was more alert than me, and smart enough to pull me out of his sight. So we were standing at the top of this stairwell in a crappy motel, effectively surrounded on all sides, completely unarmed.
Ladies and Gentlemen, your hero, right before he decides to do something completely fucking stupid.
I whispered to Weaver, "Listen. I'll be back. TRUST me. Just remember to put some shell casings under your pillow. The Reinforcement Fairy comes to all little boys and little girls who have big fucking enemies that need a whuppin."
She had just enough time to say, "Whaaaaa-?"
Then I had leaped over the railing and onto the guy coming up the stairs. My weight, plus the impact of his head against the stairs, meant one unconscious gun-toting asshole. And then I was face-to-face with Mastermind.
(Editor's Note: The timing of this feels strange. The guy sits at the bottom of the stairwell looking up. Weaver pulls Nick out of his line of sight. WHY does stairwell guy wait so long? And how did he not hear any whispering? There's a Flatscreen TV near the Manager's Desk, which is near the Stairwell, which as near as I can tell the Manager watches pretty damn near all the time. It might have covered the noise? Distracted him while it was at it? That's my guess on the time lapse.)
He reached for his gun, I threw an elbow into his face and spun him around. Suddenly, we weren't fighting anymore. What was happening now was that I had a hostage in a chokehold as two other men in suits with guns in the lobby pointed them right at me. I don't even remember HOW I got him into that hold so quickly, but I did. I finished drawing Mastermind's gun from behind him, and jammed it into his side and said:
"One wrong move, and douchey gets it."
So. Picturing this scene: A bunch of suit wearing assholes with guns aiming at me and shouting for me to put my weapon down as I hold the key to this ENTIRE fucking thing hostage, as Weaver scampers down the stairs behind me.
I say to her, "You heard me. Get out of here."
She just gives me this look, taking a moment to marvel at the scene, and think about what action movie I had jumped out of. I have to admit, I was feeling nervous as hell, but pretty good about myself.
She started to say, "I'm not going to-"
I cut her off, "Shut up. Go."
(Editor's note: "Nick" does a shitty job of describing how this must have worked. Then again, like everything else saved on this blogger, this appears to be a first draft. After examining the Motel where this happened, Here's how things probably worked. If "Nick" was standing in the doorway to the stairwell, there would be a partition that would have kept the gunmen from seeing Weaver behind him. There was a back door just a little ways from said partition. "Nick" tried his best to keep everyone who showed up on this blog anonymous, but if Weaver is who I think she is, she's short enough, and "Nick" with a hostage is big enough, that their bodies could screen her until the point that she was about to exit out this back door. The gunmen couldn't have threatened her until AFTER she was gone. And gods know they must have been focused on "Nick.")
The Assholes start to point their guns at Weaver for a brief moment as she headed out the door, and tried to fire off a shot at them. I pointed MY gun at them for long enough to distract them, and then back at Mastermind.
Mastermind said, "Well, this is a surprising turn of events."
And I had just enough time to realize EXACTLY who Mastermind was. Having experienced that revelation again recently, I can tell you, it sucks doing it twice. There is only ONE reason I did not immediately jam the gun into him and unload the clip in the most violent and brutal fashion that I could manage.
The safety was on.
Mastermind stomped on my foot, pulled it out of my hand, and kicked me in the face. For an old guy, he's an awfully spry motherfucker.
And this is where the story should end. I should be shot dead or executed in a backroom by Mastermind and his goons. I shouldn't be talking to you now. But that's when I got lucky as fuck all.
Between the Jersey Devil, the Slender Man, and everything else I've run into over the years, this was bound to happen sooner or later. But the next thing I know, we're knee deep in Giant Mantis trying to pierce the Veil and tear us all to shreds. Mastermind's a canny operator, and loves him some Necromancy I think, because the spirits of the dead started swarming them. Mastermind's men formed up around us, and pulled out salt packets. In seconds, we were in a circle of protection.
And with that, Green Lady entered the room. You don't know her, because I haven't talked about her. You see, Green Man has a sister. And she is a manipulative, nasty, murderous bitch when she wants to be.
Her exact words were: "I'm here for what I'm owed, (Mastermind.)"
And then the world was an explosion of pain and light.
(Editor's note: I've been held up for so long because I was the Green Lady's prisoner for a few days. I'll tell you all about that in a little while. For now...lets say that he's not lying about how much of a bitch she is and leave it at that. She ripped the veil, time, and space a new one. My bet as to how "Nick" ended up back at his apartment? Because Time Lord was watching, and pulled his friend out of trouble. Beyond that, I'm still investigating.
So far, there are three factions in all of this: The Proxies, Mastermind, and Green Lady. I'll have something more concrete for you soon. After I've healed up a little.)
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Now I know the score
It took me a while to understand who exactly "Nick" is. When I did, I nearly peed my pants. After all these years, definite and obvious proof of his continued existence. To explain how I know him would take far too long for tonight. Lets stick to the basics however.
If you divided one year in seven, then one seventh of every year I've lived for the past eight odd years was spent trying to piece together who exactly this man was. He has listed in his fanciful passages such nicknames as "The War Without end", "The Weapon that Walks", and "The Man In Blue." Although, It was actually "The Woman In Blue", although that was what he was when I met him. This is my first real lead in a long time.
Allow me to add the following to the list: "The Blue Death", "The Abomination", and my personal favorite, "The End." On some occasions, he has been referred to as "Oh God, It's Her, Run!"
During the nine year period that "Nick" has been in operation, after year one there has been a one hundred mile area in which the vast majority of NEB (Negative Energy Beings) (AKA: "Demons") will not operate. No one has even been certain if "Nick" has been alive for the last 8 years (until very recently, a moment that was actually transcribed by "Nick".) In any case, he's sneakier than he'd admit, and no one could actually be sure if he was there. Nobody wanted to find out either. No one ever sat down and said, "Stay exactly one hundred miles from this place at all times", it just sort of happened. These are the precautions you have to take, even with the supposedly dead.
I watched him die. They broadcasted his death across time and space, to anyone who had the senses to feel it.
It didn't take.
This is the guy I injected full of drugs and tossed in a coffin. He'll get a kick out of it when he finds out who gave him the knockout drugs.
Now that I've got all that out of the way, I'm going to start editing and posting information he left behind. I don't think all of this makes sense. Then again, I have started receiving $100 a day, apparently to handle this stuff. I'm not a writer. I'm a detective. So I'm going to earn that pay by fact checking where I can, even if it's just my own experience I'm checking it by. There's always something you can do to verify information, and I'll find a way to make it happen.
My name is Ellen Noir. In this blog, I was referred to as The Samurai. I've shown up a few times on this blog prior to now in the "Past" sections. I never thought I'd see someone else right about that stuff. Now you get to read about it all from my perspective.
This is going to suck.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
What Happened The Other Day
I think the first thing I should tell you is that I'm not "Nick". That out of the way, maybe the rest of this will get easier. Probably not though.
Lets start with the important things, shall we?
That said, you're all wondering about where "Nick" is. On Saturday, someone named Spencer decided to make a deliver from Philadelphia to New Mexico. Your "Sage" Ryuu reported on what she thought happened, and what she learned from "Nick's" roommates.
I'm keeping "Nick's" habit of linking items of note. It's a good habit. Cuts down on confusion.
All of this said, I am not a writer. I'm an accountant. This isn't something I want to be doing, but I don't have a choice in the matter.
On Friday, I received a phone call. I am assuming it was from the man you call "Time Lord." He mentioned a number of illegal things I've done over the years, and that evidence of them was stored somewhere regarding them. He in fact, listed ALL of the illegal things I've done over the years. Then he told me what I needed to do for him to keep my life.
1: Go to the location of "Nick Dwyer." Inject him with my knockout drugs of choice, load him into a cheap, light, inexpensive coffin (conveniently located at a nearby Mortuary for pickup.) Do so within a VERY narrow period of time.
2: Transport said coffin to a specific street corner.
This is where a snag in the plan happened. Namely that whoever was attacking "Nick's" house. Unmarked cars, unmarked men in suits, lots of guns, and they tried to lock down the area. I made it through, I dropped off the coffin, I nearly killed two people, and I got out. This was problematic, but according to Time Lord, "An acceptable amount of Risk."
I am not happy.
3: Edit items currently on the blog "Records of an Impossibility", use a password that I'm not placing on the open internet, Present them after I have some kind of revelation (Gods only knew what he meant by that), and have fun. Oh, and edit them and add my own notes. Also: Apparently, the men in suits will not see these due to a perception filter. I hate perception filters.
If you have questions about me, I may answer them. I have familiarized myself with SOME of "Nick's" reading material, but not all of it. If you would like to know where "Nick" is, I can't tell you. What I can tell you is that he is very much alive, and if what Spencer said is true he is very capable of walking out of that coffin and continuing on with his life. I will point out however, that you people are NOT my responsibility, and that this isn't my problem. I'm just doing my time until this "Time Lord" says our deal is through. As per why I am not simply posting this as "AmalgamationSage", lets be honest with ourselves. It wouldn't be respectful, as I am not actually this "Nick Dwyer."
As per why I'm writing his name entirely in quotations, it's because that's about as appropriate a name for him as calling a toaster Clarice. I don't know WHAT it is that it reminded me of, besides a loaded gun, but his spiritual form is familiar to me. It's confusing.
Like I said before, I'll answer questions if you'd like. In the mean time, it appears there's a VAST stack of posts that I've been ordered to read through that "Nick" never posted. I've got a lot of reading to do.
Lets start with the important things, shall we?
- I'm not a "Proxy."
- I'm not a Mortal Enemy of some kind of the writer taunting him.
- I'm not replacing "Nick" as the blogger. I'm supplementing him in this current situation.
- "Nick" is not dead.
- Do not come pouring out of the woodwork to declare that you will kill me, that you are superior to me, and that you represent some kind of god. I'm aware of the existence of the "Fears", and the Slender Man is just another one of them. They are not gods. Be insane somewhere else.
- I'm not a nice person. I apologize for everything I'm going to tell you.
That said, you're all wondering about where "Nick" is. On Saturday, someone named Spencer decided to make a deliver from Philadelphia to New Mexico. Your "Sage" Ryuu reported on what she thought happened, and what she learned from "Nick's" roommates.
I'm keeping "Nick's" habit of linking items of note. It's a good habit. Cuts down on confusion.
All of this said, I am not a writer. I'm an accountant. This isn't something I want to be doing, but I don't have a choice in the matter.
On Friday, I received a phone call. I am assuming it was from the man you call "Time Lord." He mentioned a number of illegal things I've done over the years, and that evidence of them was stored somewhere regarding them. He in fact, listed ALL of the illegal things I've done over the years. Then he told me what I needed to do for him to keep my life.
1: Go to the location of "Nick Dwyer." Inject him with my knockout drugs of choice, load him into a cheap, light, inexpensive coffin (conveniently located at a nearby Mortuary for pickup.) Do so within a VERY narrow period of time.
2: Transport said coffin to a specific street corner.
This is where a snag in the plan happened. Namely that whoever was attacking "Nick's" house. Unmarked cars, unmarked men in suits, lots of guns, and they tried to lock down the area. I made it through, I dropped off the coffin, I nearly killed two people, and I got out. This was problematic, but according to Time Lord, "An acceptable amount of Risk."
I am not happy.
3: Edit items currently on the blog "Records of an Impossibility", use a password that I'm not placing on the open internet, Present them after I have some kind of revelation (Gods only knew what he meant by that), and have fun. Oh, and edit them and add my own notes. Also: Apparently, the men in suits will not see these due to a perception filter. I hate perception filters.
If you have questions about me, I may answer them. I have familiarized myself with SOME of "Nick's" reading material, but not all of it. If you would like to know where "Nick" is, I can't tell you. What I can tell you is that he is very much alive, and if what Spencer said is true he is very capable of walking out of that coffin and continuing on with his life. I will point out however, that you people are NOT my responsibility, and that this isn't my problem. I'm just doing my time until this "Time Lord" says our deal is through. As per why I am not simply posting this as "AmalgamationSage", lets be honest with ourselves. It wouldn't be respectful, as I am not actually this "Nick Dwyer."
As per why I'm writing his name entirely in quotations, it's because that's about as appropriate a name for him as calling a toaster Clarice. I don't know WHAT it is that it reminded me of, besides a loaded gun, but his spiritual form is familiar to me. It's confusing.
Like I said before, I'll answer questions if you'd like. In the mean time, it appears there's a VAST stack of posts that I've been ordered to read through that "Nick" never posted. I've got a lot of reading to do.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Dear Redlight: An Open Letter
We had an enlightening conversation last time. Meeting you in person showed me many things, about you, what you are, and how you operate. It also gave me incredibly useful information regarding The Tree. Don't worry, I still intend to destroy or eliminate that tree, the abomination that it is. After all, I'm one of the very few people equipped to do so, and there are those syringes to worry about.
That said, you've probably noticed something rather terrifying as of late. Namely the fact that you're out of bodies.. You see, people form sympathetic connections between each other over time. Love, hate, like, dislike, and everything inbetween. It is through connections like these that old sayings such as the "red string of fate" are formed, or the idea of a bond between two people that can cross all distances in time and space. You had developed several very special connections with a number of specific people. We will refer to these as your unfortunate "Redlit" proxies. As you well know, those connections have very quickly been disappearing as of late.
When I was out finding Nessa the other day, I did some cutting. When I was laying in bed trying to get to sleep, I did some cutting. And right now as I type this and think of how to properly state my feelings, I'm doing some cutting. In a very short period of time, you will be out of bodies. There are maybe one or two that I will not be able to cut at this point. I'm not particularly worried about this though. One more body just won't take you very far.
After all, beyond the people you've already worked with, thanks to the proper cuts, you will no longer be able to "Redlight" anyone else ever again. Savor the time you have in your next body, because it's your last. Your stale, static eternity is over.
Don't worry though. As I previously said, I will be taking care of that tree. And I would strongly suggest not giving people injections of the Tree Juice. The results may surprise you.
In short: Scissors beat Paper.
Sincerely Yours,
Nick Dwyer, Amalgamation Sage, The Crazy Beastmaster
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)